May 30, 2002 :: 11:15 p.m.
I could be on that show, dammit
So tired, so sad to be home, sleeping alone, again. Called off work today because staying in bed with Adam seemed immensely more appealing than running a cash register for 8 1/2 hours. Too bad I work tomorrow at 7:30. Boo to my job.
If I were a millionaire, I'd say fuck my job. Fuck you're job. I'd go out and buy a house and say, "run away with me."
Search engine hits for tonight: "the girl on top of mein bed," "fatness girl," and "i want to fuck my sister." MSN, Yahoo!, and Google, respectively.
Maybe tomorrow I'll write something substantial. Probably not. G'night.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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