Hey, Joey. No, I don't know what the latest . . . Will you leave me
alone? No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. No, I just . . . No, I'm not
in a bad mood. I'm sorry. Okay. I'll see if I can't find the polls, okay?
Yeah, bye. Bye Kenny. God, everytime I say his name, i wanna scream "Oh My
God, they killed. . ." But anyway. Can't be childish, can we? Noo. I wonder
what CJ's up to.

Hey Carol. She what? Do I care? Heh. Thought so. Hey CJ. Boy, you look
like hell. The door is closed. No, I won't leave until you tell me what's . .
. Toby? Oh, wow. Really? Is he okay? Are you okay? What do you mean? Who else
has asked you that? Oh, Danny. What do you mean, don't say it like that? I
said it normally. Relax. God, I've never seen anyone so clueless before when
faced with an issue of love. I wonder where Donna is. What, CJ? Yeah, I'm
here. What do you mean, outer space? That's ridiculous. Listen, I'm gonna go
check on Toby, see what I can find out. Don't lock yourself away in here.
Life goes on and Tobe will be okay, I promise. Okay, bye.

God, what was that about? She doesn't . . . *care* about Toby, does she?
Nooo, they're friends, just friends. Ooh, it's Donna. Wow, she's really. . .
pissed. What the hell? I don't know what you're . . . No I didn't break
Margaret's neighbor's cat's leg; where did that come from?? I don't even
known Margaret's neighbor, or his cat! Donna, would you stop-- Donna --
Donatella Moss! Listen to me. Calm down, breathe. What's really wrong? What
do you mean, you're confused? Well, I mean. . . Oh, boy. This is not good.
When a beautiful woman who handles the people you talk to and controls your
schedule each day storms away from you, it is definitely *not* a good sign.

Oy, safe office, nice office, comfy chair in nice, safe office. No angry
chief of staff. No hiding press secretary. No frustrated beautiful assistants
rambling about "keeping things hidden" or "being confused" about whatever. It
was just lunch, wasn't it? Did she think it was something more? Wait a minute
. . . Did I think it was something more? I don't even know.

Why is life so frustrating? I don't have a love life, though I'm always
trying. I work in a business that is full of people trying to hurt others and
in the midst of it all I'm trying to make the world a better place. "I serve
at the pleasure of the President of the United States." God, what does that
mean, really? It means so much. It means I work long hours, usually weekends
too, deal with nasty people, accept the threat of life and limb, sacrifice
any excuse for a life, and spend my days arguing with people to let me do my
job and better the society we live in. That's "serving at the pleasure of the
President" or is it? God, I love the people I work with, but right now I'm
about willing to run away to Canada or California or Bermuda or somewhere
far, far away from here.

Goddamn it. The Forbes speech. The briefing. I got ten minutes. I better
figure out what happened to Toby.