2001-04-02 :: 8:32 p.m.

I really do not know how I wound up with $4,000 charged to my credit card. This, to me, is a sign of illness. I know it. "Oniomania." The need to own things. I'm sure I can get help for this, but that costs money.

So I'm a little bit scared, needless to say. I just can't resist the temptation to buy stuff that I like.

I know this girl, she doesn't even care about buying stuff. She goes so far as practically hyperventilating when it comes to buying new clothes, that's how much she doesn't like it. I wish I could be like that. I wish I didn't care about motherfreaking shoes and seven different kinds of black pants and fourteen different kinds of jeans and every single permutation of tank top.

Maybe if I rocked out. Maybe rocking out will help. Maybe if I didn't have free time. But that's the thing. The advent of online shopping has been my downfall. You're sitting at your desk seven hours a day. And cookies. Cookies remember your credit card number and it's sooo easy, oh those sites practically beg and plead with you to hit that damned, tiny shopping cart. Those companies have clever assholes who make the page so easy to navigate and oh my god you can see the different colors and magnified oh check it out they ask you if you want anything else at the Express CheckOut oh my God the EVIL!

I am a sucker. I've mentioned that before. It bears repeating.

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