� Memoirs of an Evil Genius �
Conquering the World, One Martini at a Time

� The Grudge Report �
12:30 p.m., 2006-06-15

I�ve been thinking lately that maybe I�m too emotional. Like, I get really, really worked up over things that are either a) totally beyond my control, or b) sort of insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but are based on a fundamental principle that I feel the need to defend. And I mean, just for example, that I was driving home from work the other day and started to think about something that happened to me in the eighth grade, and got so pissed off all over again that I started screaming at my windshield (because suddenly I was In The Moment and living it all over again) about badly it had mistreated me.

The incident in question � wherein the Powers That Were at my middle school wanted to shut down the school paper, for which I was a contributing writer; and I was so adamant that the paper needed to stay alive that I met with the principal to argue in its defense AND went and stood in front of the PTA and fielded questions for a solid forty-five minutes to explain why it was SO important, and how the school benefited from its presence, and why it was such a bad idea to get rid of it on the misguided belief that it was a waste of school funds and a sort of superfluous in that there was no �original� reporting, per se, (Which, come on, we were like 13, and how much �original� content are we expected to come up with? And beyond that, I still stand by all my original arguments, if only because I think it�s such a great environment in which students can learn about writing, organization, and not least of all free speech.), and in return for all of these my Herculean efforts on its behalf, the faculty advisor who served as editor and administrator PROMISED me a spot on the exclusive Board Of Editors�and then, after all of this, when the principal gave the paper the okay for another year, and EXPRESSLY STATED that my efforts were largely to thank for her change of heart, the faculty advisor? Went back on her word. She denied me my promised spot on the board. Worse yet, she put it to a vote, and my classmates and colleagues (as it were) on the paper turned me down.

I had never felt so used, so humiliated, nor so slapped-in-the-face in my entire life. (I was yet young � there was a world of face-slapping, me-using humiliations ahead, if only I�d waited.) I also felt completely impotent, because what was I supposed to do? I was 13, and the person who�d screwed me over was the person I was supposed to be able to go to for help in resolving situations in which I was unfairly treated. I never got over it. I�m STILL not over it. I think it�s shitty, and if I could go back in time, I�d tell that old bag, �If THIS is what you people are really like, I�m sorry I ever went to bat for you. You can go to HELL and you can TAKE THE PAPER WITH YOU!�

I�m glad I finally got that out of my system, but do you see what I mean about being totally, weirdly worked up over something that happened [mumble mumble] years ago? Like, what difference does all that make now? I can�t change it, and I can�t tell off that stupid whore, either, so why am I taking it out on my poor windshield? Which is FILTHY, by the way. I�ve never had a car so much in need of washing, but that�s an entry for another time.

Or is it? Why don�t I lighten the mood a bit, and tell y�all about. This thing is dirty to the point where you slam the door and leave behind a handprint in the car�s outer crust. It�s dirty to the point where it�s beginning to affect the way the WINDOWS OPEN AND CLOSE. I think if you can actually hear the dirt screaming when you try to roll down the window, you need to take your car to the carwash. I only haven�t because that costs money, you know? It�s also just about time to take it in for an oil change, and to find out what all those weird noises are that are coming out from underneath it.

THAT�S something to get worked up over, and yet I only feel a mild case of irritation. Huh.

Your Trivia Fact Is: What�s the word for a junction of three roads? �Trivia�. Go figure. I�m Watching: I finally watched The Closer, and it�s just as good as everyone said! I�m Reading: What is this �reading�? How do you do it? How many batteries does that require?

A Year Ago, I Said:

Me: Maybe Judy Greer is really a crazed geneticist playing God in her basement with canine and gorilla DNA!

Domino: Okay. But I get to be the princess.



In Soviet Russia, Dog Walks You
6-12-2005

� 2005 by Dr. No, all rights reserved; you break it, you buy it.



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