Sort of began slowly, but the flow is coming in now. Its been a long, haunting day with miles of melodrama and people banging their heads against the wall (read the wall of this room) and finally I threw up my hands.
Enough, said I.
I stared at my fate and proclaimed it down. Down with the sickness. I am tired of it.
But unfortunately, it is not tiring of me. Its eating my core. Slowly.
On another hand, the parents are being together and the twenty-fifth anniversary has come up and they have successfully drunk-dialed people and as a result I have had to call back and apologize to people who I have no clue about. With the THROAT that seems to me to be eternally sore now.
I hate my house. I want to run away. Someone, get me a Lamborghini and I would. I would also need a driver, so there!!
Lamborghini. I have expensive taste.