That's life, it's oh so short. 

I'm sorry, I can't help it, I have to singalongtothemusic.

I'm so effin tired. 

I shouldn't even publish this.

And I need to quit eating bread.

Yesterday was a good day, and to think of it, this whole damn week was great.

I mean, I was depressed and anxious, but that was stupid and uncalled for.

I had some very life-enriching days.

I think I mentioned them in the last post.

Friday night I hung out with Katie and some friends, and then I went over to the Rendezvous to see my coworker Nate play his final show with One Million Teeth.

It was exciting to say the least. He is definitely crazy, this is confirmation.

But then he's a performer, keeping it under wraps, letting it out on stage. Well, most of the time. Like tonight, just before I left, he made this sound exactly like a horse neighing. It was insanity! I was laughing hysterically.

Anyway, so I just pulled my vegan bread pudding out of the oven and I ate some.

There's a potluck tomorrow at work. Don't feel sorry for me. I am making bank, bagging. 

It's sick.

So I say sick all the time now. I'm not sure when it started. Probably that girl, Liz. I refused to say it, and I fancied myself with a crush on her. But then I decided emphatically that she is a bitch and I don't want that. So now I say sick, all the sick fucking time.

Does that work?

Ani. I like her now, too.

You tell me about a band, chances are I won't listen to them until about two years have passed. And then I will "discover" them one day and fall head over heels for them. It always goes that way. It has to be my idea, I guess.

Nothing good to say here. I think it has to be this way for at least the first three to five posts, and then I get comfortable, the blogs get easier, smoother, like talking.

We are not yet acquaintances