(no subject)
Mouse shit.
You read me, mouse shit.
That's what my office is covered in. Do you know how disgusting mouse shit is? Yes, it comes in cute little pebbles, but I don't care.
Eat garbage = Poo garbage
I have to leave this job. I have to. All I have to do is get through Christmas, which I get not a single day off for thank you very much.
I watched "Storytelling" with Anita last night. I love that movie. Not just 'cause Selma Blair is naked for the first half-hour of the movie, but because Paul Giamotti isn't naked. If I learned anything last night, it's that "Rape is when you love someone, and they don't love you back. So you do something about it". I invited Anita over so I could cook up something nice for her. I couldn't cook anything nice, so I made mesquite chicken fajitas with tiramisu for dessert. I know what you're thinking, I'm just fattening her up so I can eat her. Well, you're wrong. She doesn't fit in my oven. How do you know that, you ask? Well, to tell you that we're gonna have to go all the way back to the civil war...
Today it snowed, and it's still snowing. In fact, I don't know if it'll ever stop at this rate. So, if you're reading this Nisha, damn you. Damn you and your Southern hemisphere. Sometimes I wish I lived in Rand McNally... The only thing that pleased me this morning was Anita's face, and the big smile that had settled upon it. I've been down so goddamned long, that it looks like up to me. If Graeme ever read this, I know that line would make him happy. Not happy, amused. Yeah, that's right. When you reach my age, happiness is a movie with Phillip Seymour Hoffman and a greeting card falicy. I hope I spelled falicy right, 'cause I sure as hell didn't mean a phallic greeting card. Wait a minute, "sure as hell" is a horrible phrase of assurance since I don't really believe in it. All aboard. Next stop "Off topic"...
I've been thinking about something that Graeme and I talked about the last time I saw him. We walked by a wedding dress shop, and I had to ask, "So you and Julie ever gonna get hitched the fuck up". Hey, I never said I was classy. Sassy, maybe. His response was what I would expect from old Graeme. Pre-dating-my-ex-then-moving-in-with-her Graeme (I have no problem with it, but Graeme's attitude has changed). He just said, "Phht, No! We don't even want to think about that." That's good for me. Selfish as it is. If they get married, that would be the one wedding that I would love to be a part of, but not be able to be a part of. It would be like that scene in The Graduate, except Graeme and I would be on the bus at the end. All of my old friends are getting married. Not that I really care, 'cause for the most part, I've shut them all out. I reached a point where I looked at them and thought, "what in Jebus' name do I have in common with these people?".
Nothing, that's what. So here I am. Rock me like a hurricane if you will, but I'm not lookin' back. No back lookin' for this guy. No, I'm always looking forward, not backward. Upward, not downward. And whirling, always whirling towards the future.
Time for me to cheer the fuck up. No more moping. Not mopping, moping. I still like mopping.
Sorry coach, the moon was in my eyes,
Christofear-me-cause-I'll-cut-you-like-I-cut-sodium-out-of-my-diet
You read me, mouse shit.
That's what my office is covered in. Do you know how disgusting mouse shit is? Yes, it comes in cute little pebbles, but I don't care.
Eat garbage = Poo garbage
I have to leave this job. I have to. All I have to do is get through Christmas, which I get not a single day off for thank you very much.
I watched "Storytelling" with Anita last night. I love that movie. Not just 'cause Selma Blair is naked for the first half-hour of the movie, but because Paul Giamotti isn't naked. If I learned anything last night, it's that "Rape is when you love someone, and they don't love you back. So you do something about it". I invited Anita over so I could cook up something nice for her. I couldn't cook anything nice, so I made mesquite chicken fajitas with tiramisu for dessert. I know what you're thinking, I'm just fattening her up so I can eat her. Well, you're wrong. She doesn't fit in my oven. How do you know that, you ask? Well, to tell you that we're gonna have to go all the way back to the civil war...
Today it snowed, and it's still snowing. In fact, I don't know if it'll ever stop at this rate. So, if you're reading this Nisha, damn you. Damn you and your Southern hemisphere. Sometimes I wish I lived in Rand McNally... The only thing that pleased me this morning was Anita's face, and the big smile that had settled upon it. I've been down so goddamned long, that it looks like up to me. If Graeme ever read this, I know that line would make him happy. Not happy, amused. Yeah, that's right. When you reach my age, happiness is a movie with Phillip Seymour Hoffman and a greeting card falicy. I hope I spelled falicy right, 'cause I sure as hell didn't mean a phallic greeting card. Wait a minute, "sure as hell" is a horrible phrase of assurance since I don't really believe in it. All aboard. Next stop "Off topic"...
I've been thinking about something that Graeme and I talked about the last time I saw him. We walked by a wedding dress shop, and I had to ask, "So you and Julie ever gonna get hitched the fuck up". Hey, I never said I was classy. Sassy, maybe. His response was what I would expect from old Graeme. Pre-dating-my-ex-then-moving-in-with-her Graeme (I have no problem with it, but Graeme's attitude has changed). He just said, "Phht, No! We don't even want to think about that." That's good for me. Selfish as it is. If they get married, that would be the one wedding that I would love to be a part of, but not be able to be a part of. It would be like that scene in The Graduate, except Graeme and I would be on the bus at the end. All of my old friends are getting married. Not that I really care, 'cause for the most part, I've shut them all out. I reached a point where I looked at them and thought, "what in Jebus' name do I have in common with these people?".
Nothing, that's what. So here I am. Rock me like a hurricane if you will, but I'm not lookin' back. No back lookin' for this guy. No, I'm always looking forward, not backward. Upward, not downward. And whirling, always whirling towards the future.
Time for me to cheer the fuck up. No more moping. Not mopping, moping. I still like mopping.
Sorry coach, the moon was in my eyes,
Christofear-me-cause-I'll-cut-you-like-I-cut-sodium-out-of-my-diet