2002-04-24 4:52 p.m.
Law Firm Deathmatch?

My supervisors are mock-fighting. I keep wishing one of them would stab the other with a letter opener. Would that be the same situation as when your roommate dies when you're in college, where you get an A? Would I get some paid days off in that case? Sounds like a flimsy premise for a movie.

I feel bad for my coworker Ana. She always looks so tired. Some of the time it's dealing with her son, some of the time it's just life wearing her down. It's a pity...she's gorgeous and pretty competent. She could easily be doing something else, even if it's just higher-paid office shit. (I should add that she's the one I dreamt about a month or so ago...it must've been fantasy and not precog, like that dream about the Latina transsexual who I fucked in a plastic-tarp-walled apartment underneath an overpass with bizarre lighting. Whoo. That was a headtrip. Sexy, though.)

A lot of people, I realize, have no idea of the real ceiling above them, and instead, choose a much lower one, consoling themselves by the fact that they're so busy, they don't have time to plan a step up. But they all can. Even me.

Azucena and I were joking about how I should make a business plan for selling my soul. If you're going to do it, at least maximize the profit, right?