Monday, April 12, 2004
The pussification of America, and the one guy’s mystique
After stuffing myself senseless at champagne brunch with Mother today, I just got back from doing touch-up painting in Greta's living room (I know, I know, but she waited for me to get home and waited for me to get my ass in gear after I took a nap, for chrissakes. What would YOU do?), where I proceeded to stuff my face with 1/2 a sausage pizza that I definitely did NOT need. Happy Easter, yo.
So, the one guy called last night. He didn't end up coming over, because he got all squirrelly and decided I was too tired. That never usually stops him, but it did last night for some reason. Anyway, after I was completely awake at 2:30 a.m., I called him back, and we had the type of conversation that reinforces for me why I love him insanely.
So, the one guy called last night. He didn't end up coming over, because he got all squirrelly and decided I was too tired. That never usually stops him, but it did last night for some reason. Anyway, after I was completely awake at 2:30 a.m., I called him back, and we had the type of conversation that reinforces for me why I love him insanely.