Not your standard issue late twenty-something's blog.

Friday, June 25, 2004

Pepperidge Farm Cookies!

I owe my friend an apology. We had it out the other night and he unearthed some pretty ugly truths about yours truly. I'm going to speak of this matter further when I'm not hungover.

Katharine Hepburn had the shakes. I also have the shakes. I'm just that hungover. Mr. Brown, my dad's poodle, also shakes. My friend Tim was delighted to see that Mr. Brown's boyparts were intact: "Let me see your little testicles," he said. Mr. Brown was patient while his dog balls were scrutinized by Tim but then he promptly ran and hid under the bed.

Tim and I got picked up and intoxicated by a couple of swingers last night. At my dad's building's bar. I vomited in his recycling bin.
At least I didn't have sex with strangers. And of the five times that i drunk dialed my babydaddy at 1:36am, I only left one message, telling him I love him.

I have to nap now. So much more to come.


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