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I didn't write to JWB today. I wrote to Ryan. What a fool's errand. For all intents and purposes, Ryan's dead. I miss Ryan.
We're going out tonight to bring Indian (dot, not feather) take out to a friend who had a stroke. She's 37. (Not fair!) I got her an autographed copy of a book by one of her favorite authors. It will make her happy, but I fear it might also make her self-conscious that only one side of her face can smile anymore.
I try to be a good person, but my special superpower seems to be fucking up. Maybe I should just stay home alone and devote my life to knitting. Pity the liquor store doesn't deliver and I don't know how to knit.
I sooooooo look forward to returning to my boring life and dirty minded self! Blow jobs for everyone! The line forms here...
Gotta scoot.
42... Didn't the Eniac say that's the meaning of life? I'll be 42 in August. Coincidence? I think not.
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Have any comments you'd like to share?
[So far 0 smart ass remarks have been made.]
encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02
Bones - 2008-09-20
random bitchings and musings - 2008-07-09
Man with Huge Cock - 2008-07-04
Eric and other crazy shit - 2008-06-29
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Thinkin' 'bout: Sam Adams Light
Dog(s) keeping me company: I need a shower
Current read: 42