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{Reservations} {Tickets} {Map} {Photos} {Souvaniers} {Postcards} {Design} 2003-05-05 | 6:13 p.m. Diary, there are some things I just can't talk to you about anymore. This sorta kills me because since when should I have to censor myself in my own guldern diary, huh? Something tells me that the jig is up, tho so ixnay on the erkway ossipgay. I bring to work with me a canvas bag with a url of forums that I post to quite regularly, which has a link to this diary, and that's where I might have slipped up. So.. No more info about my diabolical plan to murder my coworkers, leave their bodies to be found in a horribly lewd and embarassing circumstance, for which to bring shame upon their families forever. No more nicknames like "Geriatric-Charro" or "StinkySteve" or the enduring "StrongBadApril" or "SaveYourEnergyForSomethingDeeperAndMoreMeaningful-LikeFarting" and no more cooking up schemes to prank call their butts in the middle of the night, thereby leaving them with that nasty sleep-deprived taste in their mouthes. None of that. From now on I'm all about teapots and apartment hunting and cats. I believe this is the part where my REAL friends find me and put me out of my misery for good. OOh yea, I don't have any friends. Speaking of teapots, I ran into Lisa at the store this afternoon and she asked if I happen to have a teapot to loan for the Mother's Day tea. Yes, I replied, chipperly. I do! Six or seven, I think, from when I as addicted to teapot auctions on Ebay. And you think I live a boring life. Ha! Ha! Ha! Miss These? absence of life - 2003-07-28 |
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