09.06.01 :: 2:32 pm
Plans for the birthdays of Dionysian proportions are beginning to take shape, Me and Laurie at the helm, steering our beloved friends along. I think a party and then dancing at Don Hill's on that Saturday will be the final decision. We'll see.
Miss Castro, however, has decided to throw another one of her hotel parties on that day. Lame. She threw the same thing last year, only to have it shut down by hotel security about twelve minutes after we arrived. Did I mention lame? It wouldn't have mattered to me, but the fact is that I don't necessarily enjoy the company of the people she hangs out with. Fuck it, I don't like them at all. Plus, she rubs me the wrong way sometimes because she says hellish things like "He doesn't make six figures? Dump him." So, yeah, her party is about as appealing to me right now as putting on a pair of wet jeans. So, no thanks.
And now, after going through a huge deforestation of magazines in the last hour, I finally have been given work to do.