I wish I had my switchblade.
Work is particularly obnoxious these days. These people, I mean, WOW, these ridiculous people.
Why don’t I have my switchblade?
There is so much cleaning to do at my new apartment still. It’s never ending. I can’t believe it’s legal to rent a place that filthy. It turns out the super is an asshole too. Tommaso has been an amazingly huge help with this entire process. He caulked the entire place last night to help me keep out the roaches. I think my walls are mostly full of steel wool now. Eat THAT rodents!
I need dish soap. (I originally wrote soup but dish soup doesn’t sound very delicious.)
I’m homesick for my old apartment.
My pee is green. It’s from drinking chlorophyll. It’s awesome.
I had my usual park party for my 29th birthday on June 2nd. It was pretty fuckin’ awesome if I may say so myself. There was delicious infused rum and vodka. There were hula-hoops. I got hit in the face with a baseball. Best of all, I was gifted a stamp with my monogram and switchblades that matched my shirt. I was able to stamp my ownership onto all of my friends. Yeah, Tommaso is pretty much the greatest thing ever for making this (and various other reasons).
Party on Garth.
I need to do ridiculous amounts of laundry.
Perhaps I have ADHD.
My keys are dirty.
Where can I find a good taco around here? It seems impossible.
I’m feeling depressed again. Can’t seem to shake it. I hate when this happens.
Damnit. It will go away. It WILL go away.
I need a tan.
And thus concludes my ramblings for today.