I just got home. I think I had food poisoning. My house is less than neat and tidy. It is the Woodward Cruise so people are coming over. I need to do something about my lawn. I joined yahoo personals because a cute guy with a Basquiat painting emailed me. He has since fallen off the face of the planet. Must have offended him somehow with my last email. I should chalk it up to "well, then he wasn't the 'right' guy, even to be friends with . . . " but instead it is making me cranky. I didn't email him first. Bop-bop just looked at my match profile. Bop-bop of the "internetdatingisstupid" lecture tour. Want to email Bop-bop and tell him that I'm on match to find people I don't know . . . you know, new boys, not boys I already know. No spelling mistakes in his profile though. I'm so proud. I have to go to school this week. Which means I have to work this week. I woke up to Bob Ross painting something with titanium white, while I was dreaming about a gang of men that were about to jump me. "Go for the ankles" one of them said, as the other one was pouring out his Big Gulp. I thought in the dream he meant getting my ankles dirty with the Big Gulp mess. But in the shower, I realized that it was probably to break my ankles so I couldn't get away. Fun dream.
Cranky. Annoyed.
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