January 18th, 2007


(no subject)

In the deepest, darkest corner of the passenger side of my Honda, tucked safely under a seat without a "jewel" case, was The Chronic. That's right. The mother f'n Chronic. It wanted to be found. It wanted to be listened to. It wanted me to not give a fuck about ho's. 

I got funky on the mic like an old batch of collard greens.  Then I stopped and got coffee.
enough of you

(no subject)

Stupid Walgreens. I wanted Revlon Cherry Tart lip stain, they didn't have it. I wanted Diet Pepsi, they only had Diet Coke. I wanted Sally Hansen Airbush Legs in Nude Glow, they only had Light Glow. Now I have a bag full of the wrong stuff. Stupid Walgreens.

Clearly, I'm upset about the whole thing. I'm going to watch Frontline.