AAAAAAAAAAH! I haven't had access to a computer in yonks! But I do now. Oh, and by the way, I'M HOME MOTHERFUCKERS! That's right. Back in the good ol' USA. I'm so happy! It's not like I started hating Ireland or anything but I just wanted to come home and see everyone and have some good junk food. Fucking skinny Irish people.

***

Anyway, I finished my thesis and turned it in. I don't know when I'm going to get my marks. I should email my supervisor about that, actually. Which I've been meaning to do for about a month. Anyway. I saw my wonderful nephew last night and he's so smarta and grown-up and, like, a whole person now! Crazy. I missed the transformation but you can bet your sweet ass that I'm not missing anymore. Haven't seen party queen Snap yet but her husband was in my dream last night. Nothing sexual or anything. But, in the dream, we worked at the same place and he saw me and was all cute and "Hey, you're back!" and gave me a hug. Then the other guys I worked with started making rude remarks about my breasts and he told them to stop. Of course, he doesn't actually work with me but mild sexual harrassment is something I have to look forward to when I go back to my old job. Nothing you can really complain about, of course. Just enough to make you uncomfortable. *SIGH* I really don't want to work in an office. I'm going to have to do something about that. Maybe I can figure out how to be a freelance proofreader and work out of my home in my underwear. Then only the cat could sexually harrass me. I don't suppose anyone is good enough of a proofreader to make a decent living freelancing. I mean, a proofreader is really low on the food chain: when I'm not proofreading some really important financial document, I'm, like, getting the partners' lunch or something. Another sigh. I haven't remembered a dream in forever and this last week I have been having these vivid dreams about returning to work and all my insecurities and fears are being acted out in them in great detail. I mean, last week I had one where I went back to work and they had fired the person who replaced me a year ago and hired someone else in her place already because they needed a proofreader before I came back. And the person they hired? Was this asshole who used to make my life miserable when I was 12! I haven't even thought about him, much less seen him in over ten years. And here he is, TAKING OVER MY JOB! And of course, the horrible irony about this whole thing is that I hated that job. Very much. I mean, this job was what made me want to go back to school and leave the country. I really don't want to go back to it but I figured I could make some money while I look for something I do want to do. But since I don't even know what that is, I could end up 30 years at this place before I know it. Oh god, if I stay past then end of tax season, anyone and everyone has permission to shoot me. Several times. Anywho. I have to talk to Snap today sometime so we can meet up and talk for 8 or 9 hours about nothing and get stoned. I still have to see my youngest brother too. He started school in Wisconsin today so I missed him but he is supposed to be coming home a week from this coming Saturday to see me.

***

I am going to Florida on Friday! Woo-hoo! It's actually not very hot in Chicago today so I don't know how much pre-FLA color I'm going to get. But, I have been in Ireland and I'm a naturally pale person, so my legs are practically glowing in the dark at this stage. So I'll prolly give the Naples crowd snow-blindness for a coupla days but hopefully the eerie blue-white sheen should fade after a little sun. Jeez, I have so much stuff to do. Gotta call cool Grandma Georgya-with-a-y-not-an-i-because-she's-not-a-state (as my bro-in-law, Schwartzcaster, says-"Everyone should aspire to be Georgya")and tell her when my plane gets in. I have to get a manicure and a pedicure and many books for lounging on the beach. I also want to see if I can get a nicer swimsuit at a store for fat chicks. I need one that fits me better and I want one that is strapless for no shoulder tan lines. Or, you know, bright red burn marks. But that's just semantics.