A chronicle of mundaneness steeped in irony and pointed realism with no real direction or point and no real defined end-point. Except maybe Tuesday, which Tuesday I leave as an exercise for the reader...
Friday, June 06, 2003
sipping single malt scotch and chillin' on the couch...it's been a long day after work and then softball at 7 (watching Jay play)...I'm the mood for a cigar but not motivated to drag myself outside or allowed smoke in the house...bother...
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