The crazies are out. For example: trash-talking me while I’m standing five feet away and then trying to pretend as if everything is jolly good = crazy. Someone has never heard of karma, and probably wouldn’t know it if it sucker-punched them in the face (though then again, hopelessness is a sin).
Speaking of crazies: Nature has awakened, the seedpods are cracking, and the dendrophiliacs are loose in the Sarah P. Duke Gardens. I don’t recommend going in there after hours.
There is something subconscious (or supernatural) about the fact that all of my skirts appear to be shrinking in the wash.
The sun is shining and illuminating the dreadful fact that my skin is so stark white as to make blind people flinch (no offense to blind people, who have to put up with a whole lot more crap than I do). I might as well be playing a molar in one of those commercials for tooth-whitening strips… Do I choose to spend my money on inspiring literature or package deals at the moderately (as opposed to totally) sketchy tanning salon? I think I’m going to have to settle this internal debate by blowing all available funds at the pub.
Justin Timberlake is beginning to look like… well, a man. I’m not sure if this has something to do with the fact that I am constantly bombarded with images of him – and am slowly caving on – or if some bad motherfucker really did rub off on him as of late.
“300” is almost out – and these last few days are going in a kind of cinematic slow-motion, with angels trumpeting in the background. I feel like I’m sixteen again. If “300” fails to pleasure me – there’s always “The Host” to finish the job.
I think I like Jose Mourinho. Yes, I am typing this with a straight face. For he is the special one.
Natalia A. 
do you want to go see black snake moan some time in the next few days?
The indy gave it a good review (if a little gushing).
Stay white. It’s right.
Seriously though, all the beer in the world won’t age you as quickly as a tanning bed, which is about the stupidest invention since the banana hammock.
Yeah, though the crazies are out all the time according to my experience.
It could be worse. It’s 18 degrees outside where I live. So the only thing the sun is illuminating is the fact that my front lawn is covered by a glacier.
BTW definitely spend the money at the pub until the foolish notion of the tanning salon is wipped from your mind. Beer is infinitely more healthy than the tanning bed.
“The sun is shining and illuminating the dreadful fact that my skin is so stark white as to make blind people flinch”
Same here. But soon (given some exposure to the sun) the cops will be pulling me over for absolutely no reason and taxi’s won’t pick me up.
J. Kaiser