I couldn't find your footprints in the sand
That's because when times got too rough for you, I sent internet hairpats and hired some guys I met online to carry you. They showed up, didn't they? Or were they the axe murderers? Shoot, I knew I should've googled a little harder....
Dude, you totally know I'd prefer the axe murderers.
God, my apartment is such a mess. Somehow, laundry overtakes it and leaves me overwhelmed. It's clean laundry, which is both better and worse.
I read two blog posts discussing trannie scientists and sexism in science, today. I never thought sucha thing would be relevant to my life, but now I'm wishing we'd hire them so I'd have interesting people to hang with now that Nathan is leaving.
Well, I figured if they were axe murderers, your rough times might be nicer if you could blow off some steam and kill them with your pinky. I really was thinking of you, see!
I went to bed at 10pm. I was trying to be good. I woke up all coughing and "Hi, is it morning now?" 15 minutes ago. At 1:15. Um. This is not working. Stupid hotel room.
Where did everyone go?
Writing. The never-ending cycle of revisions. Plus some sewing, and some attempting to brush Trinian the Fluffy Cat, which resulted in her being very, very cross.
(Yes, I resorted to almost-vacuuming the cat to avoid working on some writing. I am a sad, sad creature.)
I'm watching Eureka.
Fuck! I knew I forgot something!
On the other hand, I Plinked my sink.
you did TIVO, ita.
I'm not watching tonight - but I think it is tomorrow's entertainment
Dude, you totally know I'd prefer the axe murderers.
It's good to know there's a market for "Bloody Footprints in the Sand" posters.