Friday, February 1, 2008

Women Don't Have Cocci

I'm in a frustrated mood right now. I am annoyed by all the minute things, like my fingertips being to damn big for the keyboard; my stepdad walking back and forth around the office, making the floorboards shake and crack with his weight on them; the paranoia I feel that he's reading over my shoulder even though I know he couldn't care less.

But I am excited about Case teaching me to drive my truck. Because once that happens, I can drive over to Adrian's and just show up and pick up my stuff. And, for good measure, I'll tell him I'm pregnant with one of his friend's babies because I fucked them all. And with a twinkle and a wave, I will ride off into the sunset, watching his bewilderment.

And then I can get a job. And money. And move out!

But now I need to bum money off people to pay Jess. Ei-yi-yi. But I may have a lead on some grunt work I can complete for some pocket cash.

I also found out that Bill Clinton is speaking at my school tonight and just found out about 2 hours ago. Great. I could spit on his limo and have the Patriot Act burn my ass.

There's not much to report other than rehearsal is going very well and I busted my ass on the stage, bruisig my coccyx and hurting the hinges where my thighs meet my pelvis so I walk like a orangutan. But everyone in cast gave me a hearty high-five yesterday saying, "How's your ass/back?" I was entertained and happy to see that people cared. It's nice commaradery.

Oh! And there is now a place where you can buy cigarettes on campus! The Local 537 (The Smoker's Union) has (non)officially endorsed it as our spot.

I suppose that's the end of that.

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