So, basically all I've been doing since I last updated is spending my paycheque. (Do you prefer "paycheck"? Okay.) I bought three new skirts, a few lovely (and hip! What the eff?) shirts, a black wallet with a completely unnecessary white strap and buckle on it, really cute black Converse skate shoes that make my feet look tiny, and finally- Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America, the Pill versus the Springhill Mine Disaster, and In Watermelon Sugar, all in one delightful book. It was at the used bookstore, and I wasn't expecting to find it there. Exciting.
(That last bit was for you, Celeste. Just so you'd be filled with glee at the mention of his name.)
Aced my Italian test this morning.
Went out for lunch afterwards with a friend. It was lovely. Talked about music, mostly, and people we either despise or mildly dislike. Mature. What do people talk about, anyway?
I mostly just have conversations that resemble- unintentionally, of course- the stuff I read on that Overheard in New York page. That is to say, they're ridiculous, not very politically correct, based largely around sex and death and robots, and seem to keep me crippled in laughter most of the time.
What do you talk about? Seriously.
As I was putting groceries away tonight, I stepped across my kitchen floor to place some bananas in a bowl and slipped on a giant fucking puddle of water. So! Our kitchen sink is leaking, and my knee- which I landed directly on- is a piece of purple and blue artwork unto itself! Bloody hell, it hurts. (And my knee doesn't exactly tickle, either! Har.)
I really like boys with pudgy bellies. They are my absolute favourite, especially to rest my head upon.
Have a good time at Prom, kids. You can think of me being too a) broke, b) busy, and c) underage to attend, okay? Tell me all about it upon your return.
(That last bit was for you, Celeste. Just so you'd be filled with glee at the mention of his name.)
Aced my Italian test this morning.
Went out for lunch afterwards with a friend. It was lovely. Talked about music, mostly, and people we either despise or mildly dislike. Mature. What do people talk about, anyway?
I mostly just have conversations that resemble- unintentionally, of course- the stuff I read on that Overheard in New York page. That is to say, they're ridiculous, not very politically correct, based largely around sex and death and robots, and seem to keep me crippled in laughter most of the time.
What do you talk about? Seriously.
As I was putting groceries away tonight, I stepped across my kitchen floor to place some bananas in a bowl and slipped on a giant fucking puddle of water. So! Our kitchen sink is leaking, and my knee- which I landed directly on- is a piece of purple and blue artwork unto itself! Bloody hell, it hurts. (And my knee doesn't exactly tickle, either! Har.)
I really like boys with pudgy bellies. They are my absolute favourite, especially to rest my head upon.
Have a good time at Prom, kids. You can think of me being too a) broke, b) busy, and c) underage to attend, okay? Tell me all about it upon your return.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
is that you guys on the patio making all the noise? or are you all the people puting shopping carts by my building
[Edited on May 14, 2005 11:41PM]
What do I talk about? At work (in a desperate attempt at trying to distract everyone from talking about football or soap operas) I tend to talk about horror films. At home when my housemate (who hates horror films) and I do talk, we talk about politics but mostly we don't talk much, engaging in brief exchanges like "There's someone on the phone for you", "This came in the post for you" and "Jesus, that was a stinky fart!!"