sunday mornings are for drinking coffee

even if it is girlie vanilla cappuccino shit.
even if it is the sugar-free, fat-free shit.
even if my shirt is on inside out from re-dressing in the dark...
even if it's sunny outside and snuffy-nosed, sneezy on the inside.
i've about fucking had it with the notorious B.I.G.
no, that's not right.
oh yeah--the notorious spring-time cold.
lame.
go away, no one wants you here!!!
...uh, that oughta do it.

and every time I log in to Blogger it has that Gmail thing.
which they promised to quit harassing me about if i would sign up.
which i did.
they lied.
and i still haven't used it.
oh, wait.
i did once.
and what i really need is to add a little button to my sidebar so that i'll remember to use it.
cuz you know what they say: use it or lose it.
although that may just pertain to weed, i'm not sure.

but i did have a dream last night in which i was given a rather bizarre tour of Montreal.
--including (but not limited to) a ride on a merry-go-round and making out with someone's (hot)husband.
and then two old boyfriends made an appearance--as my next door neighbors, still being chased by the girl who used to be addicted to my leftovers.
I told her to grow up and find a real guy--one who would have a real job, buy her a house, etc.
apparently dream Lisa has all the answers.
what a bitch.

my husband is playing 36 holes of golf today, so i have to find a babysitter so i can go rollerblading with my friend.
who, by the way, i finally added a links section for, on her sidebar.
it took me a couple of tries to get it in the right spot, since i don't really know how to read html...
i'm a master of imitation though.
like that crab they spell with a 'k'.
anyway, if you're in the area and have fewer than 3 felony convictions and are intoxicated by fewer than 12 illegal substances: please, give me a call. I pay well. the kids'll love ya.
cuz i am NOT skipping this.
it's a gorgeous day.

I think i should go back and change the title of this to: A post about nothing: the seinfeld of blogs, without the humor.
but that would require effort.
and i have none to give.
a fuck?
shore!
i have a fuck to give.
rat's asses?
plenty to go around--hand em out like candy, actually.
but effort?
nah.
i save that for....
um...
what do i invest effort in?
the stock market, maybe.
my kids, definitely.

and on that note, i think i'll go shower.
as always, i'll be thinking of you.