Monday, February 26th, 2001 | 00:18
Think if you can't speak

I am only going to write for twenty minutes and then I'm going to bed.

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My voice has been quite phlegmy-sounding this evening. And I thought I was better.

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Heatherstrip shows up as neon green as opposed to the intended pink. As a result of extended reading of heatherstip, EVERYTHING now has a slight pinkish (not Pinck-ish) hue.

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Sparks!!!

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I actually did end up watching "Pushing Tin" last night. It was the kind of yummy goodness one expects from a John Cusak movie.

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Thirteen minutes later and my much cleaner.

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I am one minute away from my bedtime.

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Last night, I murdered my father with a copper pipe. Shortly after, I was discovered by my brother, and ended up chasing him around with the bloody weapon and finally beating him in the throat. All this occurred in my basement, under the stairs, near the washing machine. I woke up this morning, unsure as to whether it actually happened.

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I need to start reading more. My dreams are becoming too obvious.

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Office Space was a rather disappointing movie.

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I am left blankly staring at the ceiling.

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wake

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