January 26, 2006

I had creamed corn for supper tonight and it reminded me of you.

Other times I have mundane dreams about Greg Smith telling me that his cat poops three times a day.

It’s one of my obsessions with old men.

Join me in the bizarre fantasy Canada I just created.

I am the twisted king of some kind of sordid slut palace, a gateway to statutory rapeville.

I refrained from talking about porn, threesomes, alcoholism, or doing research on fellatio so that my family could enjoy the fruits of my labor without feeling the need to avoid looking me in the eye the next time we met.

I called both your phones today to no avail…don’t you want me baby?

Me! Me, you bastard!

I had a surge in horomones today due to upcoming menstration and now I feel bitchy.

I don’t even like wearing pants.

Tell me how to do laundry…. grrrrrrrrrrrrr!