September 13, 2002 :: 3:36 p.m.
Friday likes to play with hot wax
I. Love. Boys. With. Pianos. Love, love, love. I would heartily recommend that
Lisa, whose wedding I am going to attend when she straightens Rufus out, check out this boy (
Mitchell Hunter),
Brian J. King, and
Sacha Sacket. All are boys, all have pianos, and all (especially the first one) make my little heart go pitter-patter with musical excitement.
Ah. Yes, I have indeed spent my entire afternoon downloading songs by people that I've never heard of before. So sad and yet so very satisfying. I found a bunch of stuff that I think Adam would like, so at some point I'm going to burn him a CD. He's at the dentist right now, being poked at prodded with sharp bits of metal on sticks. Poor boy. But I can't feel too sorry for him, because after the dentist he's going to see about insurance for the car he's getting - one that's very much like my beloved blue roller skate. BAH! I'm so jealous that my eyes have practically turned green.
So anyway... Friday. Glorious Friday, how I love you so. I've been waiting with baited breath for your arrival all week, and finally you've come. Let us go to the bed, my darling, so that I can properly express my joy and gratitude... er, what's that? People are reading this? Oh. Oh dear. *coughs*
Hmm. I'm Photoshop-less and irritated. I have things to color, dammit! Why must this computer be so finicky? Bipolar little fucker. One minute it's working splendidly, and the next it's sparking and hissing and throwing me errors when I'm not even trying to do anything. I think it needs some meds. Possibly Prozac, or Zoloft. It helped the sad little egg, right?
Aww. I want one of those. The little Zoloft eggs. Heh. I want a plush representation of a character that advertises an anti-depressant. There's something very amusing about that. Well. There's something very amusing about it if you're me, anyway. Still, if anyone can hook me up with a sad Zoloft egg, I'm willing to pay or barter.
Ho hum. I don't know what to do with myself. Emily isn't here, which is always nice. Tonight there's going to be something of a sleep-over jamboree in my room. She's having Justin over, and if I can somehow coerce Adam into it, I'm having him over. How sad is that? I do sometimes feel like the only reason he sleeps over is because I want him to. But really, my feelings shouldn't be taken 100% seriously. They're generally wrong and bad and totally unwarranted. Alas.
Well, nature calls. I'll probably write later, unless I miraculously find something to do. Chances: 1/35,000. So you can pretty much expect another entry, then.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005