R.I.P. Peter Jennings 1938-2005

I was asleep ten minutes ago. Jan called: "Zaftig, Peter Jennings has passed," he said in a scratchy voice.

I got misty-eyed for a second. It's sad, sad news. Peter was my favorite of the Top Three Evening News Anchors. He reported with his emotions intact, unlike Dan Rather; and he was more natural than that robot Tom Brokaw.

And Peter remained HOT. He didn't even look 67!

Smoking is evil. Smoking is death.

Rest in peace, Peter.

You too, MS.

Goodbye, for Now

On Tuesday I turned 27. I am officially in my late 20s, fast approaching my early 30s. There was a local story about a woman who biked, ran, and exercised her way into her 40s. She started running a day before she was to turn 40, and by midnight, she entered her 40s with an exhaustive bang. Meh. I think I will fuck my way into my 30s, with a hopeful orgasm exactly at midnight. But that's three years away, so I can plan accordingly. Anyway, I know it's been a long time since I've updated this thing, and there is a reason: no time. Life has been quite busy. Work is more hectic than ever, and I am often working late into the evening and bringing work home. I don't even have time for a decent dinner. Dinner tonight was canned fruit cocktail in gross heavy syrup (I couldn't find it in juice) eaten straight from the can and a Diet 7-UP. I was grateful for the time to consume even that. But how I dream of spicy veggie lo mein and shrimp in lobster sauce. At 3 a.m., ...

Money's Worth

This afternoon I decided to cash in a gift certificate to a "spa" in an unsavory part of town. A co-worker gave me a $50 certificate -- not including tip -- for a pedicure and massage for my birthday. I know, that's cheap, but it was worth a try. It's my birthday week, so a free massage and pedicure is deserved. I left work early for this "pampering" session. YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR! The spa was some store-front dump that had NAILS, FEET, BODY SPA emblazoned across it. Right there, I should have known what I was in for. No one was in the "spa" except for an old Asian lady, who greeted me by saying, "What you want!?" I presented the certificate to her, which she snatched, studied, then sighed. "Sit down," she instructed me. I sat down in a leather swivel chair where the leather was peeling, and digging into my tender flesh. My pedicure was first. The pedicure consisted of dipping my feet into soapy water, prepared -- I swear -- ...

All Is Revealed

is name is *Jim. He lives in Naperville. He has two dogs. He's divorced. This info courtesy of a clueless Viv. I casually brought up the man in the blue shirt and black slacks to her and she spilled all. "Do you think he's cute?" Viv asked. (Bless her naive heart.) "Oh, I think he has a nice mouth," I said. Wink. Wink. Inside jokes to myself? I need to get a life. Night.

The Zaftig Chronicles

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