2001-07-06 :: 11:13 a.m.

It's really hard to keep this tattoo clean when the Bacitracin attracts every dingle dirt and dust particle from the streets of NYC. Really. Also, I'm not sure, but I think that having tanned feet makes it seem like they're not tanned, but dirty. This saddens my brittle heart.

Speaking of clean, I'm not cleaning out someone else's office, in other news. I just flat out refuse. I will not be held responsible for stuff that gets accidentally thrown out. How can I know what's important to another person? Isn't that a completely subjective thing?

I'm not touching your boxes, lady, cause if it turns out you needed all one hundred tiny little plastic compacts and I tossed them, it will be all your fault. All yours.

Ahhh, Friday. What to do later tonight? Paging Whorenuns, and others. I'll be picking up My Boy after he gets out of work at 8:30, and then... the town gets painted, I suppose.

This summer is making me happy and hungry.

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