Man, February has been party central. Oscar said he's throwing an "Oscar Party." (And I thought he couldn't get any more egotistical. Boy, was I wrong.) And Pammy threw a "Grammy Party." (She's also stuck-up, but can't spell very well.) And then I threw a birthday party for my parakeet. Nobody came. Guess they all were too busy at Pammy and Oscar's parties. Oh well, more "seed" for me.
Today is seven years exactly from the day I broke that mirror. It was just my car's rearview, but it caused a ton of bad luck (mostly backing up into things when I drove). I'm glad that'll be over now.
Sometimes after dinner, I'll just noodle on the guitar. It helps if the mission downtown is serving spaghetti that night.
One of the girls in the bank where I work started bragging about how her nails were done. It would really save me time if my nails were done. Much of my hair is already done.
They say you don't die until your job here is done. So I've decided to take on the job of counting to infinity, one day at a time. Currently at 4. Or is it 3? Well, better start over.
People ask if I do anything to stay in shape. Truth is, not much. I'm on that old seafood diet. I eat rotten seafood hoping to get food poisoning and drop a few pounds. This week I gained 5, but I've got a good feeling about those shrimp I left out on the counter.
Some days you feel like a nut, other days you feel like a normal, well-adjusted member of society hoping to be productive. But mostly the first one.