I just watched the replay of the Republican YouTube debate from last night. As usual, I have some poorly thought out and superficial observations, based on my incomplete viewing because freaking Headline News Local Edition kept cutting in to tell me about Hannah Montana and the cold front that’s coming. • WTF is Mitt Romney’s hair made of? Cellophane? Robot cellophane? • I have always had a soft spot for John McCain, even though he…
It’s awesome waking up early to get ready for a roadtrip, and then noticing little cat footprints — Where did those come from? — and following them into the kitchen where THE ENTIRE FLOOR IS COVERED IN WATER FROM WHERE THE PIPES UNDER THE SINK FELL APART WHILE THE DISHWASHER WAS RUNNING LAST NIGHT AS YOU SLEPT.
… because he apparently is my neighbor: FUCK YOU. There are two lanes. You’re free to use the other one.
I don’t like the look of my blog. I tried to be all minimalistic and stuff, because I didn’t want it to be annoying and flashy, because I knew I’d get tired of it. Well, I’m tired of the silly purple-and-white blandness. I need more. So I’m out hunting blog skins, and let me tell you, I can’t find anything worth spitting at. It’s enough to make me turn my attention to Diaryland, because there’s…
Back: Gradually getting better, after days of wincing at every movement. Still hurts to bend, though. Head: Still kind of cloudy with thoughts of things I need to do, projects I need to complete, work I need to tackle. Bank account: Tragically overdrawn. I really hope I don’t have to go to my apartment office and get my bad check and pay their fee, but I guess I’ll have to. This also means I can’t…
I feel it slipping. So much is on my plate, and it all can’t fit. I’m piling and trying to make room, but things keep dropping. The three-second rule doesn’t really apply. Booked my flight to New York tonight. Actually, Patrick did it. It’s on United. I’ve never flown United before, but a giant bus hurling through the air is just as horrifying no matter what logo graces its dorsal fin.
Amber, I’m with you in misery, if not physically. Everything I touch shocks me. Thick, robust shocks that punish my nerve endings. My skin is itchy from the dry air and my neglect (No time to shave with a dull razor and then wince as the lotion stings every nicked inch). My face is breaking out from the stress. And the PMS. Oh, the PMS. My abdomen is in knots. And my teeth ache from…
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