Yesterday
Since I always write in this thing in the morning, before Trish is up, everything is yesterday in the never-ending journal on the edge of time -- the golden void speaks to me, & the wizard blew his horn.
So the day before today (no relation to The Day After Tomorrow, which the skinny dog thought was realistic) I woke up around 6:00, as usual. Trish & I had honey muffins for brecchie, & she took a shower while I listened to Retr0-active. Then Fred & Dan showed up, to take out the old record shelves. Dan mostly sat around & played guitar while Fred deconstructed the shelf.
After that we went out to El Taco Loco. The place was packed & they had someone new there, who screwed up our order: Trish wanted guacamole & sour cream on her cheese crisp, not her taco, & taco without lettuce. I wound up with the loaded taco. Then we sat around & drank Diet Mr. Fruity (such fruity goodness) until we got the chills. I took a nap when we were back home. I fixed chicken fried steak for supper, then Trish wanted to watch Xena -- the Risperdal is kicking into interstellar overdrive, so really & truly piss on Elron.
Trish wanted to shoot the Orgasm Death before bedtime, & though it was really & truly exciting, my illness interfered. I've decided that the wiretap really is court-ordered, which has had me depressed, though last weekend it started as mania & I had to get a spike into my vein. I want to see Doc Larocque for something for it. & yes, the Science of Church-a-tology can go fuck themselves. So can the skinny dog. Antidepressants are wonderful drugs which save lifes. They save lifes. Fuck the herbs which have been studied in China for 6,000 years. The skinny dog can cram them up her ass.
So the day before today (no relation to The Day After Tomorrow, which the skinny dog thought was realistic) I woke up around 6:00, as usual. Trish & I had honey muffins for brecchie, & she took a shower while I listened to Retr0-active. Then Fred & Dan showed up, to take out the old record shelves. Dan mostly sat around & played guitar while Fred deconstructed the shelf.
After that we went out to El Taco Loco. The place was packed & they had someone new there, who screwed up our order: Trish wanted guacamole & sour cream on her cheese crisp, not her taco, & taco without lettuce. I wound up with the loaded taco. Then we sat around & drank Diet Mr. Fruity (such fruity goodness) until we got the chills. I took a nap when we were back home. I fixed chicken fried steak for supper, then Trish wanted to watch Xena -- the Risperdal is kicking into interstellar overdrive, so really & truly piss on Elron.
Trish wanted to shoot the Orgasm Death before bedtime, & though it was really & truly exciting, my illness interfered. I've decided that the wiretap really is court-ordered, which has had me depressed, though last weekend it started as mania & I had to get a spike into my vein. I want to see Doc Larocque for something for it. & yes, the Science of Church-a-tology can go fuck themselves. So can the skinny dog. Antidepressants are wonderful drugs which save lifes. They save lifes. Fuck the herbs which have been studied in China for 6,000 years. The skinny dog can cram them up her ass.
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