My tongue and lips are blue from passive-agressively eating my roommate's blue raspberry popsicles because I am terrified of confrontation.
And now it is a matter of public record.
My toes are red from the red shoes I wore yesterday and from not washing my feet well enough this morning.
I am too young to bar-hop with S. on his birthday.
I think that to be art, a creation needs an audience. Please don't think I'm a nazi.
Brenda from "Six Feet Under" is a good person. I am sure of it and I am only half-way through season 4 and things are not looking good for her.
I wonder what time is in France. I like the idea of it being daylight somewhere out there and maybe Miss. Aly is sitting in the sunshine nursing her own red toes. I like that night ends.
Wonder if my lips will be blue when I die.
In approximately 20 hours: Death by Theatre and my own romantic misgivings.
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2 comments:
You are so awesome. It is seven thirty eight and I am, in fact, nursing my toes, which were masticated by walking almost seven miles barefoot through canals and forest. POST ABOUT THE PLAY; I ADORE YOU.
I detest tequila, but as long as it's not whiskey. Actually, what am I saying--as long as there is whiskey.
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