2003-05-18

here is mister clyde expressing discontent with the upstairs pug charging him. i referee. admire the flying frog pajama pants. oh yeah, you know you want a pair.

friday i reigned supreme for four hours on the pool table. granted, i was playing against like 3 different people, but the suckers kept on stepping up and dropping the quarters. what's a girl to do?

i was disgustingly lazy yesterday. i slept in til 3:30, put on a shirt (apparently inside out, i was not so soon to discover) that was on the floor, took clyde to the park, read for two hours, and went home to watch bad tv (sex in the city, another guilty to the point of embarrassing pleasure) til i passed out. even clyde moved more than i did. sick.

i gotta do a flyer now. making the dough, yo. speaking of which i've been "meaning" to ask for a raise for like a month, and i've deduced that i simply do not have the balls. what the fuck?

my god, there goes the ice cream man again.