So sad . . . no romantic Ravinia picnic for me this weekend. The Irishman is on call due to some rather large thing happening at the site, so we�re confining ourselves to the city. I don�t know what we�ll do, but I�ve already dug in my heels with respect to the jazz festival. I (and I know I�m not alone in this) HATE all those festivals in G_rant Park. T_aste of Chicago, the blues festival, the jazz festival, the gospel festival, the country music festival . . . hate them all. The overpriced food, the skanky lawn with its bare patches, the overflowing garbage cans, the great crowds of loud people in inappropriately skimpy clothing--I hate all of it.

I�m tired. My digestive system isn�t working properly. Overnight I made a drastic transition from �cute hair!� to �in desperate need of a haircut.� It�s going to be hot and humid today. I�m scheduled to see Mars with The Irishman tonight.

If I didn�t have other people living in and staying at my apartment, I would just go home and curl up in a ball tonight. It�s a terrible idea to show up for a date in my current condition, otherwise known as NEEDY. I�m craving a little coddling, and I�m afraid that if someone isn�t very very kind to me I might burst into tears, which would be unfair. Maybe I can get my pseudo-caring fix by stopping in at the Ultimate Back_rub before I meet him for dinner.

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