I think it would be cool if people just randomly sent me books for no reason sometimes. Just a sort of a “Hey, Jen. This book needed to come to you,” kind of deal. “Thought you’d enjoy this.” Or “Perhaps you should learn something, you half wit,” maybe. I dunno.
The door they fixed is now broken. Great.
“I hate doors. I’ve always had trouble with doors, as far back as I can remember.”
wherever it is, it ain’t here
They’re an endangered species.
It’s a fucking goat rodeo.
I am disenchanted.
Yes. This day officially sucks.
Maybe you be me for a while and
What’s with all the makeup?
She’s the only one you never take pictures of. She’s the only one you consistently leave out.
I wonder what she’s eating.
I don’t even know why I’m here right now.
I’m so tired. So very very tired.
I’m almost entirely off Diet Coke. I have mixed feelings about what that might mean.
The Mister bore an uncanny resemblance to a young Hunter S. Thompson.
I used to have a friend who invited HST to both of her weddings. He did not accept.
My life, in comparison, has been shockingly wholesome.
Back to school tomorrow. Whee.
Go, Go, Toddzilla!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I really don’t think I need a chakra cookbook, thank you.
I just put the phone down 5 minutes ago and already I don’t remember where it is.
It’s just a business card. It’s not a company car.
I wish it would rain.
Suits my mood.
Actually, this one.
It’s interesting to me how I associate certain events in my life with what I was reading at the time. I was reading The Great Shark Hunt when the Mister was in the hospital with his brain tumor removal recovery. That was a weird weekend. When I was in Mexico I was reading No One Here Gets Out Alive. Norway was Keeping Faith. The only thing I could read when I was pregnant was Smoke and Mirrors.
Some people have songs. I have those too. But mostly I have books.
I dunno. Buy the ticket, take the ride. The end.