I used to be something else. I don't know if it was better or worse but I was something else.
I looked out my window. That's a baby, not a dog. Imagine my disappointment.
Do breast feeding mothers ever think about how many men have also sucked on their teats, and feel like perverts? I know I would be grossed out.
I am going to take the jump. Soon. Soon I will do it. Do something. Do anything.
My grandfather is having surgery today. This makes me chain smoke. He had throat cancer from chain smoking.
Sometimes when I get mysterious things in my mailbox I like to make up stories about who it's from and what it says before I open it. I'm a little bit disappointed every time.
No one makes homemade love letters anymore.
I just realized one of my favorite songs is probably about Bob Dylan. That changes everything.
Friday, you feel like Saturday.
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