October 12

1325

Number of coffees consumed: 5 (three black w/ sugar, two blonde w/ lowfat imitation cream. v. good considering lateness of hour.)

Number of runs in pantyhose: 2 (but one stealthily creeping along heel and I fear it will soon join others of its kind. They seem to be breeding. Must buy neutered hose in future.)

My hair smells like men's cologne right now, and while normally I would consider this a victory, basking in my post-coital transferred-cologne glow like Boudica rolling in the blood of her conquests, today I smell like a man simply because Squall's office reeks of Rinoa's anniversary gift.

"Are you able to visit D-District and interview Almasy?"

"Isn't that Zell's job?"

"It was, but Zell nearly ended up there himself after he jumped across the table and tried to throttle Seifer while he was handcuffed."

"Is that all? Seifer is still alive, right?"

"Yes, but now Zell is being monitored for potential homicidal behavior and we still have to complete the interviews. Odine is paying a lot of money for this information."

Was drowning in cologne, so agreed without thinking.

Am going to shoot self.

Entire school should be grateful administrative offices on third floor. Entire school should be grateful that I am self-sacrificing sort and faced cloud of doom and sandalwood so that they could live in freedom from olfactory tyranny of cologne manufacturers.

Am considering angry letter to said cologne manufacturers, full of righteous environmental indignation on behalf of Marlboros everywhere. Will no doubt be read on radio shows worldwide.

Wait. Strike that. Will write angry letter on behalf of whales. Cologne no longer made from Marlboros as risk of death from raw materials gatherers made cologne too expensive for consumer. Whales much easier to kill, thus cheaper cologne.

I should be grateful myself, I suppose, that Squall had broken bottle on floor instead of wearing it. Must be sign of how long since last lay that I am still sniffing my hair and dreaming blood-related sex-in-prison conquests.

Must call Xu.

October 12

1345

Number of phone calls: 3

Number of messages left: 2

Number of coffees consumed: 2 (v. bad considering only in office 1 hour. shall blame one on impatience.)

Number of callbacks: 1

Must kill Xu.

After she returned call and I lamented that I was assigned to interview Seifer, she laughed. "Come on Q! It won't be that bad. He'll be handcuffed..."

No sex in three months. Really will kill Xu when next see her.

"Besides, you've been doing all that research on what-the-fuck-ever it is..."

"Memory retention and brain damage. Related to guardian forces. Really has no bearing on these interviews."

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"Oh. Well then, perhaps you should do it anyway."

"Why?"

"Umm..."

"You hate Seifer. Don't you remember the time he tried to take me to dinner and you hit him with a baseball bat?"

"Yes, but these interviews are for the good of mankind, dear."

"Xu, I'm not stupid."

"Fuck it then. Do it for me so I can live vicariously through your tales! The thought of Almasy tied up in prison is enough to send me into a screaming orgasm."

"Just the thought?"

"Umm...yeah."

"Xu. Who do you have over there? You better not be on my bed again."

"Well..."

"That's a bit unsettling, you know."

"Well, it really is your fault. I've tried to get you to join our little games, but you always..."

"Gotta go."

"We could pretend that we're still in college..."

"Another call..."

"Uh huh. Well, call me when you're not at work..."

Really. There are times when having an obsessed roomie is flattering, but there are other times when it's just odd. Of course, now that I'm neck-deep in no-sex self-pity, it's best to have a contingency plan.

Maybe won't kill Xu. At least not tonight. She sounded like she was in a good mood, so perhaps that means she'll make dinner tonight. Must call back after I'm sure her company has left.

Must wash hair. Now that I'm out of overpowering cologne cloud, it smells really, really good.

Maybe kill Rinoa instead, in order to prevent future cologne purchases and stuck-in-office fantasies.