I asked her what a "rat's ass" was.

I can't hear you.

Speaking of David Carradine: I see my uncle Tripp (we watched "Kung Fu" together; Thursdays were the only nights I got to stay up an hour late) Saturday at Red Rose Pizzeria. Tripp wore Kung Fu aftershave, which you can google but I don't know what will happen, and that's how I knew one Christmas Eve when Santa came it was him.

I might have to break up with Rene Furterer.

I'm safe and I can.

I dreamt I was bossy.

Sad stories make me sad.

Jules and Ashley fought outside my window all night apparently.

Es hat sich gelohnt.

My hair's not helped. I'm trying to look slightly different from my true self, the one who talks to my priest. It's not working. I think I'm in the wrong beauty product aisle.

I will eat dinner and it will be eaten and tomorrow I will have to buy some more.

Last night for supper I ate half a spoon of peanut butter.

I noticed you.

I didn't sleep well.

All done.

Need a Mentos.

I'm up.

I could use some good vibes approximately now.

I'm slack in places. My poet-friends throw balsa airplanes at me.

I am going to be back writing adorable things in a minute.

No power at work, Go home.
Lady took my picture on the train with her phone.

"Keep believing and do what you do."

We're in the midst of a heatwave, which you can look up. I'm wearing my underwear, but no one's watching. All of the fans are on, although I don't remember buying any of them.

The cat, who hasn't got an underwear situation, is lying around like there's nothing the matter at all. Except when he's crying, which he's been doing a lot of lately.

I've decided I'm going to start telling adorable stories.