Full Diapers and Empty Bottles

by jkatejohnston

24 April 1995

Dear Max

I’m applying for a job as Technical Writer One at a company that manufactures silicone body parts. Annie and I have always called it the titty factory. This morning, lying in bed, I asked Teresa what I should write in my cover letter. She looked out the window. “Dear Personnel Person: I am writing to inquire about the position of Titty Writer. I myself have very large breasts… ” And later I mentally added, “As well as a wide knowledge of cuisines, wines and cheeses.” [See February 1, 1995 http://wp.me/p31TvO-bN ]


Yesterday Teresa and I want out to breakfast, and before our food came I gave a loud fart. I laughed (I’d had no idea it was coming) and sprayed the large drink of water I had just taken all over Teresa and the table, real slapstick stuff, which I never used to believe happened in real life. I put my head down in shame, resting my forehead on the newspaper that was lying on the table. Teresa was laughing and so was I—in amazement. When I lifted my head, Teresa reached out to wipe the ink off my forehead.

“Your nose is running,” she said, “Things are just coming out of you all over the place, aren’t they?”


We were in the store, and Michele and Pump were there. Pump was asleep in his baby carriage, and he whimpered and cried a bit. “I think he’s having a bad dream,” I said, “I wonder what it’s about.”

“Full diapers and empty bottles,” said Teresa.

[Note added 2013: Pump is Jack Drinkwater, Croft and Michele’s son. Croft and Michele owned the store where Teresa worked, and I’m happy to say Michele is a loyal reader of this diary. Pump will be starting at USC in the Fall.]