well, you'll get something...
but let's not get all up in arms with labels, m'kay?
give a girl some space to think, for chrissakes.
so i'm freeeezing cold right now.
it's still 73 degrees in my house, though.
just like every other minute of the day here.
maybe it's because
why the fuck is my playlist of classic rock stuck on led zep?
and furthermore, why is that bothering me?
i love them.
now i feel all traitor-ish.
yeah, so maybe the pms fairy didn't leave the building...
the gym was glorious.
lots of new faces.
ugly faces, really.
good for them.
i was a little worried i wouldn't be able to run well/long/whatever.
i felt like a new woman, though.
pumped out those miles, even threw in a few sprints.
i think my music was too loud, though, cuz the guy next to me kept looking at me.
well, either that or i was singing out loud and didn't know it...
hate it when that happens.
okay, so it's never happened.
that i know of.
shit, now i'm all paranoid.
could someone get me a fucking sweater?
okay, i found a sweatshirt and i feel much better.
speaking of sweatshirts...
wait, don't go!!
it'll be good, i promise.
through high school and college, i collected my fair share of school/team/whatever sweatshirts.
then one summer i left some boxes at my brother's house and the one with all my sweatshrits got sent to the good will.
i went for several years with no sweatshirts at all.
it's just not right.
i was broke and not highly motivated to buy sweatshirts then.
so, i finally have one again.
not counting the hooded zippered ones.
but there's something just wrong about wearing one of those around the house.
i think i'd get all confused and not know if i was coming or going--when the reality would be neither.
life is hard when you're...uh, me.
i love lynard skynard.
actually, that's not quite true.
i love two or three songs by them.
that means the next day will be Friday.
hope you all have a quiet spot you can go jerk off after you read this one.
okay, okay, so i'm probably getting you all excited (no pun intended...well, okay, maybe a little intended...) and it'll end up disappointing you.
so, forget what i said.
it's a story about two ugly people having that kind of sex that you walk away from going, "well that was hardly worth the effort of removing my pants."
well, it's time to go cook dinner.
time shore does fly when you're having...
your ass spanked?
i can never remember what that saying is.