I had to go the Post Office on Valentine's Day and people were out riding bikes, holding hands and slashing tires, as if it wasn't 56 degrees out. FIFTYFUCKINGSIX. I tried to hit a pedestrian and you'd be surprised how fast an 80 year old woman can move when she's crossing against the light and a purple car driven by a woman with murder in her eyes is gunning for her.
Jill's boyfriend from Australia had flowers delivered so I called and told her they were outside because I guess UPS hasn't heard of doorbells yet. I took them and put them in front of my apartment so I would look popular. People in mad, crazy love need to be in a crosswalk while I'm driving. And NOT GET FLOWERS DELIVERED WHERE I CAN SEE THEM.
And now I'm really sick and it's my karma for even thinking of running down an old lady on a walker (did I not mention that part?) and trying to put tongue kissing people out of my misery.
The best thing about living alone is when you get sick your place goes to shit and you couldn't care less. All perspective is renewed when you're on your knees begging God to spare your life. Or at least stop the coughing. Tonight I ate a heated can of chicken soup out of a Tupperware container because there's no clean dishes. It's come to that. I've never yelled at a guy for the way they live, or dress, or left the toilet lid up or put their dirty laundry on the floor. It's clear why, now. I'M ONE OF THEM.
This is what I take every 4 hours after 11 pm: Sudafed Night, Nyquil Nightime gross cherry flavor because I finished the last one, expired in 2007, 2 days ago, one Xanax and 2 hits off my asthma inhaler. And two Unisom to put me out first. Who doesn't want to fuck THAT?
When Heath Ledger wins the Oscar there's no doubt that I should accept it for him.
End of chat.
