Like eating glass

I think this journal is lacking something, and that something is an overexposed picture of me with arms crossed, smiling broadly, with big hair and maybe some of it teased over my shoulder. I should be standing in front of an old barn or something, although you wouldn't be able to tell that from the picture. Also, I should be wearing something enormously tacky like a blue jean jacket and my head should be tilted at an obviously uncomfortable angle like someone has just whacked me on the head although it won't have affected my smile at all. The picture should be featured prominently. It should look like it was taken in a previous century.

The VP of something or other took me to lunch today, but just ruined it by picking the place and ordering for me. Well, not really ordering for me, but insisting past the point of decency that I order her favorite dish even though I never like what other people like. It wasn't just that the dish was awful, but it had these hard, I don't know whats in it that defied chewing. Somehow she relished their texture but for myself I'm concerned I've lacerated my internal organs. I had just a little taste, and then I set her straight. I'm sorry, but this meal is just awful and no one should have to eat it. Well, they shouldn't. And no, that's not a picture of the vice president I'm making fun of for the purposes of this post. That paragraph's real.