Ladies, Do We Recognize Them?
Ok, fess up.
Who owns these keys? I'm not sure if they're Trisha's or Erin's.
I know. I'm a horrible person. But these things happen to ... people who have mad cow disease.
er, right.
So I'll either day of brain rot, or in front of a garbage truck. Which is worse? Alright, alright. Drama, drama. But I'm in a pickle. I don't what the hell I have going on here. Keys, boxes. Crap. Disorganization is not good for anyone. And what am I doing this weekend? Working on the piece on paper. There will be no distractions. There won't be anything to play around with except the dog. And well - oh, you know by now.
Dude, I don't know what the boy is yelling about downstairs. He's on some stupid conference call and in teh middle of a rant. What a freak. Bleh.
posted by irene @ 1/08/2004 09:55:00 PM
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