new york is killing me.
today, like a sexually repressed midwestern housewife, i tried desperately to derive pleasure from making chocolate chip cookies. after a few fist fulls of batter, i became thoroughly grossed out with my cheap endeavor, baked the rest, and, staying true to my metaphorical existence, i will not even enjoy the fruits of my labor. but that's more because i don't want to eat them and get fat. so i told my mom to bring some of them to work tomorrow so her fat stupid coworkers can get fatter and stupider, and i'm going to find someone to give the rest to. maybe i'll go hand them out to homeless people tomorrow. i am extremely afraid that this summer will afford me a largely sedentary lifestyle and i will gain weight and get ugly and fat again. i will take up bike riding or something. or maybe i should just drink coffee and smoke cigarettes every time i want to eat, and exchange cocaine for the pot and beer i love so very much. but that will be expensive. and possibly lethal. although simultaneously sexy.