09.27.01 :: 2:10 pm

Hopefully, this gold account will fix the problem.
I'll work on it when I get home.

Drew Barrymore makes me tired. 3 covers in less than week. Go home, child.

I need six disco naps, a martini, and the girls. Soon.

From the "Sit and Spin" Department: All Ex-Boys contact me two weeks ago to find out if I'm okay and, upon confirmation of this fact, don't speak to me again. How fucking farty is that? Cue the goddamned deer. I mean, what is that?? "Oh, just checking to see you're alive. OK, you are. Bye. Forever." What's the point?

The male mind, whatever whatever.

I can't begin to dissect it here and now so I won't.

Instead I'll just chalk it up to one of those things that was not meant to be understood. Like the Great Pyramids of Giza. Or taxes.

earlier / next