07 January 2007

she's got electric boots and a mohair suit

sometimes things work out nicely. like nigel and snackmaster bob and the table. they love it. and i love dollars. it's just ironic that bobby of all people would be the one to carry it back down the stairs after swearing just four months ago that the only way he'd take that table back down is if he could throw it off the balcony. i guess things look a little different when you're talking about your table.

i really don't want to go back to work tomorrow. ugh. i'm good at being on vacation, even though i didn't really go anywhere.

i'm not tired. i can't sleep. i read a book tonight. a lot of build up for a wishy-washy ending. that's four hours i'll never get back. how disappointing. i guess i could be packing boxes, i haven't accomplished much of that lately. i'm not sure what i want to take and what i want to leave. i like the idea of just leaving it all. everything. only taking my cats and my clothes but something tells me i can't do that. i don't think i'm going to end up selling the entertainment center and that's okay because the television is so fucking heavy i'm going to need it. winter room or summer room? i don't know. still need to get a baseball bat. i still have a lot to do and thinking about it just depresses the hell out of me. gahhh.

i have discovered, though, that stress is a fantastic way to lose weight. i've lost seven pounds mostly due to the fact that there is no food here. and i'm not hungry because i think have an ulcer. a giant nasty stress-induced ulcer. maybe it's a tapeworm. hmmm. either way, i'm going to name it gary. my ulcer/tapeworm, gary. he's a friendly fellow.

i'm going to try sleeping again.

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