Me. Now.

Meh. Meh. Meh. is all that’s inside my head.

Can’t sleep lately – clowns might eat me, or perhaps it’s just insomnia. Can’t decide, don’t care, just want to sleep. Please let me sleep, universe.

Raining today, windows wide open, cold air. Tomorrow is the Rockton Fair and I’m chock full of sugar-anticipation. Rain, snow, sleet – nothing keeps me away from orange-cream fudge.

Obsessive emails make me twitchy and make me regret giving you my email address. “Why haven’t you replied? Why? Why? Where are you? I just want to know..” Stop that. (The author of said emails doesn’t know about this blog, so it’s okay for me to say that here. The rest of you don’t email me often enough. And yes, I know I suck at replying, but you EXPECT that, don’t you?)

Harddrive in Raven began indulging in metal part-on-metal part sex and died loudly last night. At least it died happily. Had to play Tetris with only the Tetris music. Still kicked Coffee’s ass by one game.

Decided to cultivate “super secret shitting” power that will allow me to cause someone to spontaneously shit themselves. Just imagine the look on my ex husband’s face as he soils himself with no warning, in the middle of his office. Every day.

Lasted 3.75 days on sugar-free “cleanse”. Started shouting, “GIVE ME SUGAR” in the grocery store parking lot. Sucked down two big mugs of coffee-with-sugar this morning and it was as close to orgasmic as I’ve ever felt while drinking ANYTHING including Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. Unlike JD, however, I didn’t get the urge to remove my clothes and tell stories that started with, “okay, hehehe, I..hehehehehe, I’m naked! ehhehe No..hehehehe”

Addicted to wasabi peas. Stupid Rena and her stupid wasabi peas.

Wicked late-night sex is good, even if it doesn’t help me sleep.

Motivation? Non existent. Don’t care, either.

Found myself a graphic designer who might make me a logo. This is good, since the last one hasn’t emailed me back in the past two weeks and that’s a BIT OF AN ISSUE.

Thanksgiving is this weekend. Coffee is making stuffing. Impending carb coma anticipated, expected and embraced. Stuffing = Love.

Need to find more interesting people to force onto WNET – crazy people, even. Are you female? JOIN THE FUCKING LIST. I need more stimulation, more email. In more than ten years I’ve never tossed anyone from the list with the exception of excessive lurkers who didn’t respond to “stop lurking” emails – the crazy people always leave on their own accord. The crazy people never leave on their own accord in real life offline. Why?

Urge to get tattoos countered with lack of disposable income. How unfair.

It’s nearly noon. I’m going to get dressed now.