graceland's Diaryland Diary

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Box of Rain

I had a work thing tonight that found me standing next to a celebrity and a Secret Service agent.

When the Secret Service agent was introduced to me and about 15 other people that I work with a few weeks ago, I kept the interaction to a hello. I prefer to fly below the radar of anyone who carries a gun as a profession. Later that day someone I work with came up to me and said that the agent had asked her about me and said, "I bet she's a good time." I was baffled. All I said was hello. Am I wearing a sticker that says "good time?" I'll never understand it.

Tonight he wasn't in his Secret Service gear when he came up to me and introduced me to his friend, who I suppose is another agent. He appeared to be very fit. I said, "How do I know you" and he explained the reference. "Oh!" I said, "I didn't recognize you with out the..." and I made a sweeping hand gesture to his outfit and he finished my sentence saying,"...without the gun?" "Yes, the gun," I laughed. Last time we met he showed the group of us his gun and I kept my distance until he parted his jacket and showed his holster and then I may have craned my neck over the crowd and asked, "Hey, anyone ever reached in there and grabbed that?" That's when I found out there's a safety on those holsters, so don't bother trying to grab it. I was already on government lists, I don't have to worry about asking moronic questions like that.

When I was smoking a cigarette outside the event I met a man who was just released from Rikers Island. No really, he had just gotten off the bus in Times Square and was still wearing his Rikers ID badge. I can't even make this shit up. So he starts telling me about some guy who was messing with him. "I'll tell you his name," he said to me. "I don't want to know," I replied. He told me anyway. "And when I find him, I kill him," he said. "I'm a blood. We have 6 bloods on their way here. They kill him if they find him first. I can tell you what he did in Rikers," he said. "I don't want to know," I replied. "For real. Don't tell me." The guy I was outside with was able to get rid of the guy.

I had to sneak out of my work thing tonight because this associate of mine via work likes to party on the Grace train when he's in town and I am broke and beat ass tired. I dread facing him tomorrow and making an excuse when he had just cornered me and told me that I was going out with him. Some people pushed me out a side door to help me escape. I am pathetic.

This rain is killing me. I keep playing Sigur Ros on repeat, it seems appropriate. When people at work start to complain, I put the Raveonettes on.

I feel like my face has morphed into the bloated Elvis. I have PMS. I didn't work out yesterday or today. Zero motivation. I've got to get to the gym tomorrow. Not looking forward to it.

John Stamos is single. I heart John Stamos. I feel badly for him, how is going to land another woman as hot as Rebecca? How will any other woman date him after knowing he's slept with her for more than four years?

That's one confident woman. I applaud anyone who steps up to it.

Thinking about Rebecca is enough to send me to the gym right now. I'm off to dream about being Rebecca Romaijn Stamos. Lucky bitch. I'm hoping she decides to be a lesbian. Help even things out in the world.

10:25 p.m. - 2004-04-13

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