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I'm in one of those moods where people acting silly--which should be goofy, harmless fun--irritates me no end.

I just wish my head would stop hurting, I could get some rest, and the sun would stay out until I can go sleep for an afternoon in it this weekend.

Best moment of last night: PunkJr was talking shit about picking SupremePizzaMan up, doing something relatively homoerotic with him, and then throwing him somewhere--possibly in a dumpster (DayQuil has blurred the details). Typically, I asserted that there was no way PunkJr could pick the SupremePizzaMan up. Not only is the SupremePizzaMan hefty, but he's a live, non-rigid load. Feeling confident, I put five dollars on...
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I think I crossed some dark line today that I never wanted to cross.

A few days ago, the last drops of my precious shaving oil sputtered out of the bottle. "No problem," I thought. "I can order more."

Except the company I ordered from was gone. After looking around, only American Crew seemed to have a shaving oil product, so I decided to brave...
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I love looking through my CD collection and muttering things like, "Guano Apes? When did I buy that," or, "Pushmonkey? What the fuck?"

A nigh-empty profile is the new black.

Sick. Relapsed. Migraine has returned. Shoulder aches terrible with shoulders like mine. Wearing most of ski outfit. Thermostat cranked. Can't get warm. So hungry. Haven't eaten all day. No food in apartment. Haven't eaten here or bought groceries in over a month. Can't stop thinking like Kirk. Will try to sleep again soon.

I've been debating buying Getaway in Stockholm 4 for about the past twenty minutes. I'm the worst consumer in the world.

I've been listening to "We Die Young" almost nonstop all week. That's probably sub-optimal.

I think the double dose of MisterSatan germs and Adore germs on top of an already overtaxed immune system was too much.

A man sits quietly and alone at a table in an out of the way club. He's obviously lost in thought--he often comes to clubs to disappear from the rest of his life and buy some thinking time. However, people still come and talk to him. He's polite to them, but his manner is brusque and signifies that he'd rather be alone.

A woman approaches...
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Goodbye monster entry.

Yesterday, I had a migraine nasty enough to make me vomit. In my ever-pragmatic way, I decided that meant I could eat whatever I wanted. You have to love a dinner that consists of extra-hot chicken wings, Chili Cheese Fritos, and bourbon.

Quickest recap for Saturday and Sunday: Adore lives up to her name, finding new ways to rub a friend's nose in a past mistake is the zenith of cool, Portland can suck my white ass, driving when you're so tired that your eyes keep blurring the oncoming headlights is fun, and Michel Gagne is a wonderfully quirky artist.

Longest recap for same: After the oddly...
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