no, you're not going to the airport.

i'm never taking my big kitty to the airport. last night i had a dream that i took him to the airport and he ran away, up these stairs and into this crawlspace and was never seen again. every time he moves this morning i tell him he's never going to the airport.

night before last i had a dream that i was at a bank in dbq with my former roommate and big gay will and we were getting our account balances. my account balance was 812.41$, but they wouldn't give big gay will his account balance because he was black. he was pissed and decided we were leaving. in order to leave the bank we had to walk through this ginormous furniture store, one of those ones with neverending rooms upon rooms upon rooms, and being that i don't have a place of my own currently i was sort of meandering, looking at the furniture and big gay will was storming through the rooms. all the furniture was priced the same: 1,888$. the rooms started getting more crowded and bigger and i lost big gay will and i came into this room full of chiropractic students practicing neck-popping (different than collar-popping) moves on dummies on these beds that cost 1,888$. my ride was gone and i was stuck and the noise in this room was awful, with all these bones popping and crap. wtf?

anyway. what do those numbers mean? it's not enough for a phone number, but they both add up to 7. i was born on the 7th, does that mean anything? i don't know. i don't have time to know. i gots shit to do, peoples, whys are you keeping me here? more to come laters...

toodles and noodles, and no, you're not going to the airport.
love,
the janel