Elaine's Diary, aka Joseph Conrad Doesn't Know English

sunday, september 5

9:45am

Well, my clear skin lasted for all of three minutes. I woke up this morning with an enormous, shiny red spot on one side of my nose. It has turned that entire half of my nose red. It’s also the kind of spot that hangs out for a week and never comes to a head, so you can’t pop it.

9:50am

Tried to squeeze it but I am very bad at squeezing pimples. I ended up just grabbing my entire nose and pulling. It really hurt and made the redness worse.

9:51am

I look like a cross between Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Two-Face from Batman. It’s time for my Special Homemade Acne Recipe.

Later

It looks a little bit better now. I put my special salicylic-acid-and-toothpaste combination on it and then covered the whole thing up with three kinds of concealer. The only problem now is that my nose looks lopsided, on account of all the product I’ve used.

7:00pm

Went out to dinner with the Family Circus. I think my parents only have a ‘good marriage’ because they take their frustrations out on their poor children, aka me. I tried to communicate with them, but I am pretty sure we are not on the same intellectual plane because the conversation went like this:

Me: So we’re reading Heart of Darkness in English and I have to say that Joseph Conrad does not have a good grasp of the English language. He used this sentence, I kid you not: “The water shone pacifically”.

Dad: What’s wrong with that?

Me: Well, what does ‘pacifically’ even mean? I’ll tell you what. It means nothing. It’s a type of ocean, not an adverb.

Dad: It’s a neologism.

Me: Isn’t a neologism a type of rock?

Mom: No, you’re thinking of ‘volcanic’.

Me (confused, because I was most certainly not thinking of ‘volcanic’): So what does ‘pacifically’ mean?

Dad: It means majestically.

Me: No, it means peacefully.

Mom: No, it means ‘moving from north to south’.

Me (confused again by my mother’s response): You see, we all have different definitions and so he should have—

Dad (startled, looking up from his French Onion soup): You’re still babbling on?

You see what I have to deal with. Later, my father told me that I was the only person he knows of who thinks Joseph Conrad could have used a good copyeditor. I took it as a compliment.

7:25pm

Then I made the mistake of bringing up me and Marc’s new blog. I don’t even want to write down that conversation, except I will tell you that I tried to explain the photoshopped Orthodox Jew pictures and I didn’t know the word for ‘menorah’ so I had to pantomime it by holding my hands up and wiggling my fingers.

7:27pm

And then my parents laughed at me for about ten million years about my ‘lack of culture’.

Later

11:30pm
I had some friends over to watch The Adjustment Beureu! Bureu? Beauru? Anyway, Jake and Izzy and Mary were over. Mary kept interrupting the movie to ask if my parents were home from grocery shopping yet, because she wanted ice cream. During the last half-hour she went upstairs to eat cookies and breakfast cereal.
The movie itself was alright. It got a lot better when we pretended that the lead female was a transvestite. Then everything that the characters said took on a radically new meaning—I’d write an example but I don’t want to be crude.

11:35pm
Just looked in the mirror and my red spot has gotten worse. I wonder how my friends felt, knowing that they were watching a movie with Rudolph reincarnated.

11:50pm

Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

the witching hour

aka 4:27am
Why am I up at the cock-a-doodle-doo of dawn, you might ask? Well I’ll tell you. About five minutes ago, a stink bug started divebombing my head, which was a completely horrifying way to wake up. I tried to find out where it was by turning on my cell phone, but the light just alerted the bug to my position and it began buzzing menacingly.
So I’m now hiding under the covers to keep it off my head. It’s quite stuffy and warm in here, I might suffocate. At least I have my diary to keep me company.

4:30am

It’s buzzing again.

two seconds later

The stinkbug, I mean. Not my diary. My diary doesn’t talk.

4:32am
I wonder if people would respect me more if I became a mime.
Okay, I think the lack of oxygen under here is getting to my head. Good night. If I die, Marc can have my peacock hair accessory that I bought today.

4:35am
Jake can have my iPod and Izzy can have all my rosaries. Mary can have whatever sugary treats I’ve got stashed in my room.

4:37am

My family can have my copy of Heart of Darkness. They will laugh and cry at the same time, because I will be making an ironical, clever point from beyond the grave.

4:40am

GOOD NIGHT!

yeah, good luck sleeping, right?