September twentieth two thousand and five.

The smell of winter.

My sister's showing up again.

And, like always, she will do so when I expected to have a nice, long, not-as-stressful stretch of days off.

The universe hates my guts and the feeling is mutual.

Don't diss the tech support, especially when it's your screwup.

One {too many}.

Stupid rollerblades.

Stupid excercise.

Stupid blisters.

Stupid me. Definitely stupid me.

Yeah, so I'm still alive.

Woot.

There's still the return flight to do me in.

And yea, though I may waltz through the very of the chattering death...

Since I'm leaving in less than a day, I think it might be prudent to leave some thoughts for future generations in light of the increasingly likely prospect of not living to update again ( Read more... )

Apparently there are things about yourself that you can learn from your mother.

...you just have an excuse to return a favor ( Read more... )