( Thursday, Mar. 08, 2007 2:06 pm )
>Can you dig it?
Haven't posted in so long that I forgot how to post. Here's what I've been doing in the meantime: smoking the ganj, answering the phone for the man, cooking and cleaning for my boy like some kinda sap, being alternately depressed and elated. So nothing new to report. In other news, it's the week of Spring Break, I work at a University, and I'm so bored I could....sit here until it's time to go home.
I feel like I can't keep up with the internet anymore. I did all this shit with abandoning this diary, starting up a livejournal, starting up a MySpace account, and now people are asking me about where my FaceBook is? I don't even know what that is, my man. Flikr? What? And if technology is not going to help me e-stalk ex-boyfriends to find out what happened to them, if they are as addled with alcohol, as arrogant, as I thought; if their dicks are about to fall off with disuse; then what good is it to me? (Every so often I think about Cal; I think about how I fart in his general direction. Other times I think about that one time when he bragged about never having thrown up from drinking, ordered 28 different mixed drinks, and then threw up copiously outside (luckily) the bar. And that makes me smile.)
Me and Juney had some good times in our respective workplaces the other day by looking up the myspaces of people we went to high school with, but these people do not really blog so much. The best you can hope for is that somebody rather unexpected (i.e. smart) got into the sex industry, or somebody unexpected (i.e. smart) got married real young. Otherwise it makes me kind of sad to see that we're all 26 and looking older and fatter and talking about sitting on the couch with our hubbies at night.
Me and Davy and Jim (and at this point we're planning on buying a house in Philly together, because we're all fairly inseperable, and I think I've made peace with the idea that I will be desperately trying to ensure that we all eat nutritious, bean-based cuisine every night for the rest of my natural life) are going to the Flower Show tonight with some friends. I'll have to try and muster some enthusiasm for that. It is evidently a Philphil tradition, so I might as well go once. I've actually been to the ice cream expo before, so I should now return the favor and satisfy someone else's top interest for once. I don't know: $24 to look at a garage full of flower arrangements? I'm cautiously optimistic that it'll do me some good to see flowers in March.
And later on we'll get stoned and watch 30 Rock in the butter-colored front room while the cat (we have a cat; I love her) does crazy things in the kitchen.
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