waxangel

Somebody come do my laundry for me. I would just drop it off and pay extra to have it nicely folded and ready in the morning, but I have absolutely nothing to wear tonight, plus I have a bunch of jeans and sweaters and shirts and stuff that have special complicated washing instructions. Because I'm a total homo and all. Ugh, and the laundromat closest to me just became drop-off only, so I have to walk like 8 blocks, which makes it basically impractical for me to come home and finish cleaning while my clothes are spinning. Bitch, whine, moan, complain, gretch.

So, I've been staying in my friend's squat for the last couple days, because his wife and my new crush (her name is Katie, just so I can stop referring to her as "new crush") are in Vegas for the wife's birthday, and my friend needs help taking care of the three Boston terriers that are there. Two of them are theirs, one is Katie's. It's reminding me of why I don't miss squatting AT ALL. I mean, their place is relatively nice, especially compared to some of the places I've lived in the past, but it's COLD, and there are lots of mice, which freak me out when I'm trying to sleep. We're gutting it in the next month and completely reconstructing, so it's actually going to end up a super-nice apartment.

Katie called me from Vegas last night to say hi and check on the dogs and whatnot. Made me smile. Though I'm going to have to explain to her that I despise talking on the telephone.

Penny brings up that almost every single girl I've dated in my life has been a formally-trained dancer. And she's right, I can think of...hmmm...one? maybe two? girls that weren't former or current ballerinas or modern dancers. Weird, huh? Whatever, I like nice legs and small boobs.



Tonight I'm going bowling to celebrate NBK66 and Girlie's engagement, as of last Saturday. Go give them some congrats if you haven't already.

I love bowling.