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Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Jipped 

Kristi and I are going to Barenaked Ladies/Alanis Morissette on the 30th. In the past it would have been the perfect prescription to rid me of the rat bastard blues. Angry, bitter, jaded and oh so vengeful Alanis and me whaling about humankind's only failed gender - the male.

But the Alanis I'll be seeing at the end of the month is not the same Alanis I knew circa '96. This Alanis is healed, happy, peaceful. She's engaged for crying out loud. And to fu**ing Van Wilder! Coming home from work the other day I heard her on the radio sounding calm and contented. NO!!! Give me nail scratching, fire spewing Alanis. Ryan Reynolds - I am pleading with you to kick her can to the curb until the 31st. Then go off and be married, happy - whatever the hell you want.

Where's that jagged little pill when I really need it?

And for the record - while I really would like to see the old Alanis at month's end, my own bitterness and anger will be significantly dissipated by week's end. Pissed now, but not for long. After all, this guy was no Canadian.

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