Who loves kitty? Are those your shoes (blech)? Who loves kitty?
First - I pffff! to my title. Next - Ohhh boy. So I woke up on that side of the bed today that makes you want to change your whole life. I have (sort of) decided that I didn't get the
Through the Flower job - and now I've convinced myself that I don't really want it anyway (it is more than half an hour drive away, which is moider! on a car like mine). And now I've decided that I don't really want to go on with Art History. Which really throws a big nut in the plans - and that is no cliche, my dears... I'd rather be on stage (what am I, a bumper-sticker?) than in the audience; I'd rather be the filmmaker than the reviewer; I'd rather be golfing - wait that doesn't fit in with this analogy game. So - we'll see what comes out of this, but I'm sure it will get all cranked up and shat out. But now I'm kinda hoping I don't get a call-back from ol' TTF. Whatever happens, happens, I suppose. It's my density. (ahh obscure Back to the Future references, will you ever stop? Ne'er they reply! Ne'er!!!!)
* What the fuck happened to Celine Dion's hair???
* I guess Joey Joe Junior Shabadoo didn't like "The House of Yes" either.
* If Eliza doesn't start posting soon, she'll be ousted as a little square to the right!!! Do you hear me Eliza???
* I need to have a stiff drink. Perhaps you know of one? I need one with whiskey (sans hangover) and some fruity punch-ola (sans ick-sweet). I would also like to not have Sour Punch Straws for dinner again. Oh who am I kidding, it was a beautiful moment for cavity-lovers everywhere. (Did you know that "today's kids are into sour"? I found that statement to be highly, highly amusing. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you must not have clicked on the link.)
* I love 50 cent right now, and I was ab-so-fuckin-lutely delighted that he's a New Yorker. I may also be ab-so-fuckin-lutely delighted because he wants to party like it's my birthday. How can we not have great reverence for someone who wants to sip bacardi like it's my birthday? How can we not, I say!
Enough! I'm off like a sixteen year-old's prom dress...
2003-03-27 | 11:04 a.m.
