It's Nothing Special. I'm Just Like You. Er, Now Vote Anna.
Thursday, 14 September 2000. 10:39pm

i really, really, care about this. it's nothing special. everyone cares about this. and those that don't? they don't count, do they? i mean, what do you talk about to them?

it's been my summer, that show. sitting down on that rug, in front of that tiny black and white telly. glass of white in one hand; the other, more often than not, gesticulating at the screen. clicking on the website the next morning and relaying the gossip to him over there in the corner.

where were you the moment you found out they'd found out about nick? me, i was exasperatedly turning the dial on the radio, escaping some fuck-awful dj, ending up on radio 1 where the news of ructions in the big brother house was being relayed.

i phoned friends in offices and told them. my best friend was the one in her office to spread the news, all because of me! i felt like i'd given her a special gift. emails pinged into my inbox demanding more information and i gladly disseminated it. then tris phoned from the bbc and told me nick had walked, and i told them that, too. the phone rang off the hook. the emails kept pinging. and i just thought--

yeah, i sit at this desk, alone, and stare at that little orange bitten apple under my screen, and try to think of things to say. i have no water cooler. no one makes me coffee at eleven am. but i'm still there. i'm part of the world. in the loop. involved in office gossip. i'm ordinary, just like you. just like them. i'm normal, me. it's nothing special. i love big brother.

i know, i'm sad. so... sue me, berate me, dis me, slate me. just don't ask about next week, that's all.


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