"He'll sit there and go, Dipsy... Po... Dipsy... Po. I honestly don't think he knows colors. Just Teletubbies."


Nothing of Actual Substance to Say

I'm not going to say anything of actual substance, because there isn't really anything to say. I'm kind of having a bad day, what with the lack of cleaning disks, and exploding tupperware, and sleep deprivation-caused migraines.

Saturday was fun. I talked to my Chelsea on the phone for an hour and we had good times, talking about the good old days. By which I mean, November and December in Chelsea's basement, armed with a sexual alien, the NDA calendar, an orange Sharpie, and our weird little minds.

Then I went over to Betty's and had fun times with her and her family. I love Betty's family, because they are practically my second family. We played Cranium, I had rants about art class that sent Betty into spastic torrents of giggles, and I renamed her Popey McPapalpants based merely upon the fact that it popped into my head, and Betty's little sister, Little Buddy, made things erroneously dirty.

We also watched The Notebook, and I talked through it the whole time, as I am wont to do, about how Ryan Gosling would probably be the most gorgeous man alive if he didn't have such strangely large nostrils. Then I talked about why I like the rain and how it reminds me of my childhood. Then I said about eighty more random things and ate about 3,490 Fruit Roll Ups.

And now I am sitting here with a very large migraine still and I'm off to read the script for the play.


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