I just recieved a call from Scott, and all I can say is that I'm never leaving the house again. Sorry, big fella. Still, at least we know that he wasn't the one who recieved the "Porn!Keiko" message, complete with soundtrack by Liza. Thank God for small mercies ( Read more... )

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Today was a good day, all things considered. I slept in. Benny was nursing war wounds from a scrap with The Cat Who Shall Not Be Named, so he curled up with me and let me fuss over him over breakfast. I even got to babytalk him a little before he figured out I was mocking him and stalked off to plan my future demise ( Read more... )

I've never been one of those people who needed somebody to cling to. I like my space, 84% of the time. I like to read, I like to take long quiet walks, barefoot, in parts of town that hardly anybody goes. I feel complete on my own. Still. Adolescence happens to everybody.

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I'm feeling a little strange right now. I want to say melancholy, but that seems kind of pretentious. I've been having one of those days when nothing seems to be going right. My hands seem so goddamn huge. I can't stop looking at them, and it isn't as though I'm on drugs or something; I'm just ( Read more... )

My mother called from Honolulu. She asked after my health ("oh, you're doing well? that's great sweetie"), my job (ditto), and the cats ("oh, Seth's still plotting to take over the free world? isn't that just the cutest?"). The usual. I knew what was coming, of course. This is my Mom we're talking about. I can read her like a book ( Read more... )

This computer is kicking my ass. I am so technologically impaired, it's tragic. Also? I think I will never be able to use my AOL IM, which is too bad. But! Enough with the whining. I actually am updating because, in a moment of glorious teenie-dom, I decided I needed a Joey McIntyre icon. This one seemed perfect ( Read more... )

Part the FirstMemory is such a precarious thing. How much of what we remember is fact? How much is fiction? Does it even matter? After all, real or not we're as shaped by the false memories as we are the real ones ( Read more... )

Ah... The joys of going to work hungover are slightly overrated. Don't do it, kids. It really messes with my ability to dodge the fake snowballs that *somebody* keeps chucking at me.

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