7:41 p.m. - Feb. 22, 2005

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working IT

padthai: you're online again

Fergie: yup...working, sorta...

padthai: uh huh. working IT

Fergie: that�s a given

8:46 p.m. - Feb. 16, 2005

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bella pooch

Who could thay no to thith faith?

6:53 p.m. - Feb. 15, 2005

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half human

I absolutely could not sleep last night until I went to the grocery store for chocolate chip cookies and chunky peanut butter. This morning I woke up with stomach pains and a severe headache. Either I'm pregnant or my cycle is starting early this month.

Openly discussing my boy-period shouldn�t be a shock to anyone at this point. It�s an ongoing debate, and I easily concede that my pains are nothing when compared to female troubles. Nonetheless, I downed half a pot of coffee and chain smoked for half an hour before I felt even remotely human.

3:45 p.m. - Feb. 14, 2005

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1-Meter ATM Dash

1-Meter ATM Dash

Most of the spaces in the parking lot were filled, although the bank had been closed for hours. I found an open spot at the end of the row and walked back to the other side of the building towards the cash machines facing the street. As I was about to round the corner, some chick in an oversized SUV wheeled in and threw her black Navigator into park so quickly the tires locked and slid up over the curb. The bitch proceeded to leap out of her vehicle and make a mad dash for the ATM, almost colliding with me as she ran past.

I couldn�t help but laugh violently in her direction as I stepped up to the ATM directly beside her to make my transaction. �Really no need to cut in front of me, eh?� I quipped, sincerely amused by the situation. Obviously unaware there were two machines, she pretended not to hear my remark. Instead, she focused her attention on the pin pad with a ridiculously exaggerated look of concentration on her face.

Another driver had pulled into the lot during this time, but as he turned in from the entrance he discovered his path had been blocked by the SUV. Rather than backing his car into the street or driving the wrong way around the other side of the lot, he sat behind the wheel and honked his horn. At this exact same time, a truck pulled out from one of the parking spaces and sped down the opposite direction of the one way drive, head on towards the SUV and pissy horn-honking guy. Apparently oblivious that the shorter [although incorrect] route to the mouth of the drive was blocked, the truck skidded to a halt just before making impact.

As I slowly rolled past the scene, all three drivers were grid locked in place, each of them attempting to manically maneuver around the other without an actual inch progress. I calmly exited the parking lot and made my way home, laughing so hard I almost wet myself.

9:03 p.m. - Feb. 10, 2005

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love fest

The Thing That Started It All: V-day 2001

My Dear Diaryland Online Diary,

As the time passes, I�m ever more amazed by the speed at which it moves beyond the "grown-up" phase of my life I�d envisioned as a child. Why, it seems chronologically impossible that our little Fergie is almost four years old. I certainly had no idea how things would change after our devious creation entered the world. Where�s the adult I thought I�d be? Do I actually still believe I�m required to "act like an adult" ..??

Maybe Fergie helped me realize something over the past few years. As much as I thought I was molding his persona, I'd never really stopped to consider that the only identity I�m crafting is my own. All my life I�ve tried convincing myself of some other person I�m supposed to be. When I began lavishly adoring an image that represented extreme parts of who I really am, accepting the rest was easy.

May the love fest never end...

Sincerely yours,

Wes Ferguson

4:56 p.m. - Feb. 07, 2005

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working girl

Working Girl

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I�ve been forced to work for a living.

Like, one of those full-time job things. To top it off, thanks to some blind, idiot old woman who walked out in front of the limo, I actually have to get behind the wheel of my old deadbeat Ford and drive myself to the office. Daily.

I�ve been de-glamorized!

So that�s the deal for the new year, punching a time clock and putting my special skills to use at Condomania while writing articles about safer-sex issues. I�m a professional slut! Again.

6:36 p.m. - Feb. 04, 2005

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February-05

I was just about to post an entry about a scuffle with the dishwasher when I recalled an incident that involved being attacked by animate objects. I have no sense of chronological memory, so I searched for the event here in my weblog. Creepily enough, it was on this exact same day last year:

2.2.04
I have a giant welt on the side of my face. My shin is bruised. My wrist may be broken. I was in an aggressive mood today and got into a fight with several pieces of paper, a trashcan, and the corner of a table.

It all started on my drive home from the gym. A light trickle of acid rain began to eat through my windshield. I stopped off for a frutie with a little wheat grass and decided to hightail it back to the palace. Driving in LA is bad enough, when you add rain its completely insane.

The slow kind of insane though, not like a bunch of stuff coming at you all at once that's impossible to handle and therefore making you batty. This is like water torture, where nothing happens, then everybody shifts up about three feet, and then traffic stops again. Even if you know an alternate route and plan to turn at the next street, it takes five minutes to get there. Take foot off the brake.. and brake. Sick.

Naturally I was a bit testy when I returned home an hour later, a full forty minutes longer than it usually takes me. Fuck that. I don't care if it is the middle of winter, the wind is blowing something fierce and it's colder than a witch's tit outside. Visibility is almost perfect and the roads don't have puddles of water on them yet, so get your fucking foot on the gas pedal.

I received a bill in the mail from my old bank, which ordered checks to an account I closed and then charged me an overdraft fee because the account had no funds. I'm not a professional, but I'd say that most funds are withdrawn before an account is closed. This mess has been going on since October. I've spoken to the branch manager on the phone, sent in a fax with a detailed letter, sent a second letter to customer service, and in return I have a $108 bill.

Damn you Wells Fargo! Damn you to hell!

In my annoyed state because of the shitty traffic, the letter sent me into Hulk Mode and I raged out, ripped the letter to shreds, and slammed the torn bits into the trashcan. The flip top bin spun around and crushed my wrist. Reeling in pain I bent forward and instinctively pulled away from the attacker, at which point I ran my face smack into the corner of my desk.

I'm not going down without a fight, so I struck back at the trashcan. Still doubled over from the assault from my attackers, I kicked out with my right leg and fell on my ass, hitting my head again on the desk. The trashcan lid snapped forward and struck my shin with the brunt reciprocal force of my kick.

I screamed out a blood cry of death and clothes lined the trash can, sending the lid into the wall and breaking it into two pieces. The body of the can lay on the floor; contents spilled like guts on the battlefield.

The desk closed in behind me. I spun around on my knees and grabbed it by the two side legs, flipping it into the air away from me, where it landed on the floor with a defeated crack.

I might have a few bruises, but you should see the other guys.

10:36 p.m. - Feb. 01, 2005

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