By Her Satanic Majesty's Request

The title is merely a rib, so don't hold it against me. This entry is about someone special. She complained about not being mentioned in my journal (but we all know better, right? ;)), so I offered to write one especially about her. She's taken me up on it and is screaming for it like a copy editor on a Friday afternoon. Seeing as how I find her worthy of her own entry, I'm giving it to her. This lovely female person (I was instructed to not use her name, which I'm happily obliging) has entered my life, improving it to points that most human minds can't imagine. Yes, you did read that properly. If the opportunity strikes to spend time with her, I jump at the chance. The mere mention of her name envigorates all kinds of good feelings. The very sight of her is the most amazing thing ever beheld. I could continue to put her over, but I'd go on forever with all her fine qualities. She does purport to be evil, but I've seen evil, lived through evil even. And I invite whatever evil she plans on bringing. I plan on employing this one at some point also. She embodies the female character in "Smarks" that well. Look for this beautiful creature at an art house theatre now near you some time in the future. I'm not sure what else to say about this fine person. She may be bringing me mashed potatoes as we speak (or, as I type and you read). I've never met a women who would bring me mashed potatoes. Given better circumstances, I'd say the spuds would be a fine substitute for lasagne (Clerks joke). I've even been compelled to cook dinner for this one (don't laugh, I cook damn well, thank you.) And the second she lets me prepare her a fine meal, I'll slave over that hot stove like a 50's sitcom mother. Course, I'd also be willing to buy her dinner, or coffee, or ice cream, or take her to a film, or a play, or any of the other items that would fit this list (save frat party. Bad environment.) Course, once again, given the circumstances, I can merely be an innocent bystander. Which isn't too bad. So there it is, sweets. A journal entry for you, filled with many of the things I don't know how to vocalize in your presence. I figure though, if Taco is willing to propose on the homepage, the least I can do is say all that in my journal. And don't forget, you wanted an entry all your own. Hasta lumbago.