They're coming in the goddam window
Current Song: Fugazi -- Cashout.
Current Mood: Alive.
So I talked to the landlord this morning about all my bad habits. I had to give my word as a boyscout that I wouldn't allow Tarah to smoke inside anymore, but made my point abundantly clear that Terri-Lynn suffers from compulsive lying. The only question now is how big of an asshole I can be to my CP roommate for sinking down to that level. I guess she hates the smell of my nog incense even more than the cigarette smoke. So today I bought 62 candles' worth.
Soon the room, my clothes and hers will all be infused. It's her move now.
In other words my work has yet again screwed me on wages. Evidently I was earning a cut of the waitress's tips but had never collected, so the influx afforded me a case of Canadian, a box of rubbers, an apple and a dozen one dollar American bills to stuff down strippers' pants this weekend. I need to talk to a goddam financial advisor or something.
Right -- if you don't own the album Argument, by the band Fugazi -- then you have to buy it/steal it/download it right this fucking minute. I'm literally on my ass it's so good.
That's it, I'm out. But before I leave -- my professor from Clinical Psychology was in Sobeys tonight. I guess she's thirty and single. Invited me to go dancing next week. Talk about random?
/Marc
Food for thought: pick up an object and look about it. Think about all the categories you've given it already, like grass, tree, green, edible. Then think about what that object would look and feel like without those categories.
Current Mood: Alive.
So I talked to the landlord this morning about all my bad habits. I had to give my word as a boyscout that I wouldn't allow Tarah to smoke inside anymore, but made my point abundantly clear that Terri-Lynn suffers from compulsive lying. The only question now is how big of an asshole I can be to my CP roommate for sinking down to that level. I guess she hates the smell of my nog incense even more than the cigarette smoke. So today I bought 62 candles' worth.
Soon the room, my clothes and hers will all be infused. It's her move now.
In other words my work has yet again screwed me on wages. Evidently I was earning a cut of the waitress's tips but had never collected, so the influx afforded me a case of Canadian, a box of rubbers, an apple and a dozen one dollar American bills to stuff down strippers' pants this weekend. I need to talk to a goddam financial advisor or something.
Right -- if you don't own the album Argument, by the band Fugazi -- then you have to buy it/steal it/download it right this fucking minute. I'm literally on my ass it's so good.
That's it, I'm out. But before I leave -- my professor from Clinical Psychology was in Sobeys tonight. I guess she's thirty and single. Invited me to go dancing next week. Talk about random?
/Marc
Food for thought: pick up an object and look about it. Think about all the categories you've given it already, like grass, tree, green, edible. Then think about what that object would look and feel like without those categories.