who dat? contest.
(yo stee. i know
actress nicole ari parker. 200 cigarettes. the incredibly true adventure of two girls in love.
first correct answer:
left column sleep all week. no love for left column. or... maybe yes? (left column leave door open...)
OK. I don't usually write on Fridays but I can tell this is going to be a very dull finish to an excruciatingly dull week here at my desk/life-force sucking workplace. So I'm going to just babble as I feel like it.
It's still pretty early in the morning. I got to work much earlier than ever before because I had one of my rare bouts with insomnia. At around 5am I was awakened by a oddly disturbing dream involving a female doctor, a blow-job, a fingernail disease, and Bruce Campbell from the Evil Dead series. (Don't ask.) Anyway, I tried to go back to sleep but the cat decided to have an impromptu staring contest with me - 4 inches from my face. (I lost.) I didn't have the heart to shoo her away because she wasn't doing anything but purring and, well, staring in a very freaky Cat's Eye kind of way. Then that got me started think about how I'm going away for the week of the fourth and since getting this new feline roommate, I'm going to need someone to take care of her when I go away. Unfortunately, my friend who lives in my building is moving back to the east coast, thus leaving me with no obvious choice. I'm going to ask the ex, but I don't quite expect her to say yes (enjoying her new, catless life, and all). So I started obsessing over what to do and then obsessive thoughts lead to other obsessive thoughts and the cat is staring and the pillow is uncomfortable and it's only 5:30 but, I am now up. So I worked out for an hour, showered, and came to work early. And here I am. Howard Stern seems to oddly be a repeat and so I'm just drinking coffee and listening to the A Perfect Circle CD for the 800th time in the last 48 hours.
One of the APC songs they're playing on the radio, 3 Libras, is in 3/4 and it got me thinking (actually, a lot of their songs are in 3/4, come to think about it) about something I've always wanted to do: make a mix tape of songs all in waltz time. So you have a job: send me suggestions of songs in that time signature for the big mix. Save me from having to listen to 20000 hours of music in order to find songs that qualify. But don't be too obscure. (We're going for CD's I might feasibly have.) Don't tell me about some, like, Peruvian Mouth Harp player from the hills above Lima, because most likely, I don't have that shit.
OK, so Billy Bob & Angelina have to know how fucking idiotic they're sounding: "You know when you love someone so much you can almost kill them? I nearly was killed last night, and it was the nicest thing anyone ever said to me," said she. "I was looking at her sleeping and I had to restrain myself from literally squeezing her to death. Sex for us is almost too much. It's so intense that sometimes we can look at each other and think, 'You know what, we can't get into this right now or something's going to happen'," said he. Now while I can understand the sentiment, you don't run around telling US Magazine this kind of shit unless you have something to prove. I give them 18 months, tops. And I think that's quite generous.
It's 1:22pm and I've gotten nothing done. Damn this web. Damn this phone. Damn this coffee machine.
Oh man. Someone just sent me a mpg of a skateboarder landing such that his knee snaps and his leg bends 180 degrees in a direction it can't. Don't send me that shit. People! Uck.
3rd diet coke!
I'm sleepy. Fucking cat...
OK, I'm running the risk of playing out this APC CD already. I better turn it off.
Fine... one more time.
Shit. My NYC friend might be out of town this fall, thus making a trip in October difficult, as I won't have access to his couch. Shit.
4th diet coke. I think I'm going to go into septic shock, whatever that is.
Alright, I can't take this anymore. I'm going to go home and sleep. Me love you long time.
Larry is waiting in line for Shanghai Noon. What? There's no line?! Awesome!!!
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