Yes, I'm still around. I've spent most of the week disgruntled, so I've been keeping it to myself.
Massive gas face going out to the local pharmacist who had to have the convo with me abot my prescription and ailments at full volume. I doubt there was one person in the place who didn't hear him query me if I knew where I had to put my stuff and ask specifically where it's going. If it was like hemorrhoid cream and/or I wasn't blase as shit, I might have been embarassed. But since it was stuff prescribed by the derm (and therefore, innocent), I couldn't be bothered to give him the satisfaction of pseudoblushing. I just kinda narrowed my eyes and glared at him. This is why I'll probably go to one of the 20 million Duane Reades around town next time. Fuck a local business (in this case).
Virtual middle finger going across the land to Farmer, disappeared for a while and coming back to whine about his love life as if I give a shit. Boo hoo...chicks on his jock as he lounges about aimlessly in a foreign locale. Cry me a river. Just to think, I was fairly fuzzy about him not so long ago. Self-centered lame ass sniffer bastard.
I'm also fairly bothered by paying almost as much to go to Miami as I did for my LA plane ticket. Last time I checked, it's way closer! But, I'll pay it because I'm sick of snow/cold and I want to see some performances and flounce around in flip flops and short sleeves. First off, I need to actually do some exercise so I don't have to drape myself in baggy clothes and pants because I find my out of shape body so unacceptable right now.
See? I shouldn't be blogging. I'm off to rustle up a good weekend. Catch you on the flip.
Posted by Candicissima at February 25, 2005 08:11 PM