cause i’m a sucker for yr lucky pretty eyes


yesterday i was packing & i found a tube of bubbles that i trash-picked from bryn mawr (fancy all girls’ college in the philly burbs) three years ago, on one of the funnest trash-picking episodes of my whole life. i’ve never used them. i thought, “god damnit, how many times have i packed and unpacked these fucking things? i am going to use them today!”

amanda & i had a platonic date after she got off work, so i put them in my backpack & headed towards oakland. we sat in front of the library and talked. i blew bubbles & she read me this amazing letter she wrote to our friend emily on a diner napkin. the sun was sinking, references to the great early 90’s song “whoomp! there it is” were made, and we had one of those long conversations where everything is understood. it was nice.

i’m at work (duh) and the other day, one of the radio DJ’s on this very bland station my boss forces me to listen to said, “did you know that sitting at your desk and constantly refreshing your email triggers the same part of your brain that is triggered in rodents performing the same task, over and over again, to get a food pellet?” it was a sobering realization. and nobody’s in the office yet, so i could theoretically do whatever the hell i want, plus i haven’t gotten any emails in days anyway. plus i spend a lot of time at home sitting in front of a computer, bangin out the novel, so, like, why would i want to do it some more here? but oh, here in the office we have the internet, where i can stalk stupid people who went to my skool, read blogs of marginally famous lesbians, and generally waste my youth and tendons. hoorah!

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