11.26.05 :: 2:04 pm

the trick to tasty stuffing is cooking it in the juices of the cornish game hens (or turkey, or whichever bird you feast on for tanksgiving) instead of water.

I swear, you'll die.

I don't even know what day it is. We've been nested in here for what seems like weeks.

tomorrow, we're meeting with another potential minister to marry our fat asses.

mom came back from italy (florence, it turns out, not milan) with three pairs of italian leather shoes for herself, a bottle of chianti for me, and what i'm assuming is a roll full of sistine chapel pictures.
I said to her, next time, you're taking me with you. I like shoes, too.

I need to go out galavanting and cavorting about the city next weekend. I feel positively heifer-ish and slothful. A good dancing is in order to remedy all this feasting and sleeping.

off to watch more Discovery Science specials on earth's imminent doom.

gobble gobble.

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