25 July 2007

Sass, smokes, and bigger questions

Do Not Fuck with Me
This means YOU, Electronics Express. That's right, Tall Guy, Other Tall Guy, Hipster Guy, and Guy Who Wasn't Even Wearing an Electronics Express Outfit. I called your regional manager. And I got that thing-- you remember, the very necessary thing for which you tried to charge me ANOTHER twenty bucks? On top of the sixty I just paid you? Just to make the thing work? The thing that you installed that doesn't work and needs an extra part that you didn't tell me about? Yeah, I got that shit for FREE.

Time to Break Up
I love smoking. I do. I love it just as much now that I only have one or two a night as I did when I was smoking like a damn dragon. There, I said it. I still love it.

I remind myself all the time how horrible it is, how selfish and irresponsible and stupid, how dangerous and destructive, how ugly and tacky, how unacceptable and how lame. Smoking is my really bad boyfriend. And hey, come to think of it, a bad boyfriend is exactly how I started smoking in the first place, so I guess it's fitting.

I Had a Dream
That I walked into school and it had closed down, doors shuttered, one and a half months before my graduation.

And I felt relieved. Off the hook.

So explain that.

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