Saturday, September 22nd, 2001 | 052
Don't eat things from strangers.

My fucking miserable day beats all of yours.


I just want to be selfish.


My nose just said "Ow."


I have a driving lesson at 7 in the morning and then soccer games at noon, 2 and 3 pm.
I'll call when I get home.

Is it possible to develop a tolerance to anti-depressants?
(No, I wasn't really asking.)

I stood in the rain under a pink polkadot umbrella in front of a Mac's Milk, waiting for the bus. A nice looking man walked out of the convenience store and took a bite of a butter pecan tart his friend had given him. He made a disgusted face and tried to give it back, but his friend was already eating one of his own. So the nice looking man offered me a half-eaten butter pecan tart, looking as innocent and harmless as possible. I smiled and politely declined, claiming that I don't really like pecans, when in reality, I love butter pecan tarts.


Oh, the games we play.

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