... I think, I think....
I think this Amadinejad type may be one of the smartest, or at the very least most riveting characters to hit the news lately. I think my eye's trained on this guy. I think if, as invited, Bush wandered over to Tehran University and was rightfully called a petty and cruel dictator to his face, there would already be no more Tehran.
I think puppy mills are evil, and make me cry into my morning coffee.
I think a chick in the chair might be better for America, but a brown boy will be better for the world.
I wonder what possesses people to pick on peaceful monks. Why doesn't anybody ever pick on the Italian Catholics? How come the Middle-American Pentecostals don't ever get a hard time?
Today, I want to bash something 'til it's bloody.
I've been satisfying my urge by watching documentaries on the Plantagenets.
Having recently shacked up with what I believe to be my greatest fan, the hormonal changes that I think might have come from an overwhelmingly satisfying 3-times-a-day boinking diet may have caused the deluge in anger I'm spewing over the state of the world today mid-monthly cycle, and full-mooned, when there really is nothing left in my part of the world to get angry, upset, or anything other than bat-shit giggly about.
Life is good. Largely in part to my unwillingness to pay any heed to those bits of mine that might not be.
My cushy day-job as an AV nerd has bumped me into Position #1, on account of being the only one on crew who consistently comes to work, and answers her cellphone, all the while firing my best friend, who has over the past week, refused to answer hers. Snooze and Loose. As cruel as it may seem, I'm glad to see her face some real consequences to her disinclination to take me seriously.
Larry-love lives here now, as mentioned, which comes with a slight increase in living space, and quality, as the trollish-yet adorable man delivers coffees to my bedside daily, and comes with the characteristic Ikea menage of the recently-divorced male. He's taking off to Saskatchewan-that-is-home for a full month, which will likely be both refreshing and excruciating, as we've had difficulties staying 10-feet away from each other for the past few.
We play like otters.
I run away to Toronto at the end of October, to hit Buddies in Bad Times Theatre's Hysteria! A Festival of Women as assistant curator, to hit a hot technology and the body workshop, and play a sexy sexy nurse in a performance art installation called The Clinic Alarming, yet undoubtedly good times ahead. Bonus, being getting my much over-due dose of time with Sodome.
Ah.
I think this Amadinejad type may be one of the smartest, or at the very least most riveting characters to hit the news lately. I think my eye's trained on this guy. I think if, as invited, Bush wandered over to Tehran University and was rightfully called a petty and cruel dictator to his face, there would already be no more Tehran.
I think puppy mills are evil, and make me cry into my morning coffee.
I think a chick in the chair might be better for America, but a brown boy will be better for the world.
I wonder what possesses people to pick on peaceful monks. Why doesn't anybody ever pick on the Italian Catholics? How come the Middle-American Pentecostals don't ever get a hard time?
Today, I want to bash something 'til it's bloody.
I've been satisfying my urge by watching documentaries on the Plantagenets.
Having recently shacked up with what I believe to be my greatest fan, the hormonal changes that I think might have come from an overwhelmingly satisfying 3-times-a-day boinking diet may have caused the deluge in anger I'm spewing over the state of the world today mid-monthly cycle, and full-mooned, when there really is nothing left in my part of the world to get angry, upset, or anything other than bat-shit giggly about.
Life is good. Largely in part to my unwillingness to pay any heed to those bits of mine that might not be.
My cushy day-job as an AV nerd has bumped me into Position #1, on account of being the only one on crew who consistently comes to work, and answers her cellphone, all the while firing my best friend, who has over the past week, refused to answer hers. Snooze and Loose. As cruel as it may seem, I'm glad to see her face some real consequences to her disinclination to take me seriously.
Larry-love lives here now, as mentioned, which comes with a slight increase in living space, and quality, as the trollish-yet adorable man delivers coffees to my bedside daily, and comes with the characteristic Ikea menage of the recently-divorced male. He's taking off to Saskatchewan-that-is-home for a full month, which will likely be both refreshing and excruciating, as we've had difficulties staying 10-feet away from each other for the past few.
We play like otters.
I run away to Toronto at the end of October, to hit Buddies in Bad Times Theatre's Hysteria! A Festival of Women as assistant curator, to hit a hot technology and the body workshop, and play a sexy sexy nurse in a performance art installation called The Clinic Alarming, yet undoubtedly good times ahead. Bonus, being getting my much over-due dose of time with Sodome.
Ah.
VIEW 11 of 11 COMMENTS
halfjack:
whatever. harper blows bush on fridays
lemonkid:
welcome back.