I love my mom, really, I do. I know she is feeling good when she drives me up the walls, so I can't complain too much, but well...I live to complain.

I have a sign on the door to my cube that says "Complaint Department". When someone starts to complain to me, I correct them and say that I'm the one who gets to complain, they just get to give me a topic.

-t - please allow me to add my punctuation to the pile {{{{{}}}}}. The universe just needs to lay off.

but well...I live to complain.

You sound like my daughter.

I just realized I wrote door to my cube . In my dreams. The sign is on the wall next to the WIDE OPENING to my cube.

A cubicle door is only some cardboard and duct tape away.

within seconds, his tongue was inside her, moving rapidly.

I can't shake the idea that this means it left the mouth and is moving independently.

A cubicle door is only some cardboard and duct tape away.

I work with a bunch of engineers. It would be condemned before long.

logging in quickly and illicitly from horribly boring paid employment to type: -t!!! So good to see you!!! AAAugh! More bad news than you deserve, oh no!

(kicks Universe very hard on your behalf)

-t, the universe had better stop fucking with you, damn it.

I'm very angry with the universe on your behalf, and will give a stern freaking talking to/hold it down while you kick it repeatedly and tell it, "How's THAT feel, bitch???"

Okay, I have booked a flight to Baton Rouge for Sunday morning. Will figure out how to get from BR to NO later, it shouldn't be too hard.

I have been very careful to not even think anything approaching "It can't get any worse...". Very careful indeed. So don't be too hard on the Universe, don't want it to get all creative or anything.

Now for the fun part, a livejournal account...

-t, I'm very very sorry. Too much ugly stuff has happened in your life.