Wednesday, November 17, 2004


You'll Have to Imagine the Scrawl

Rather than compose a brand-spanking-new post regarding the events of last night, I believe that instead it would be advantageous to quote my drunken, journal-writing self:

"Stupid Freud sucks. He "forgot" to call me, we had a nothing [squiggle] conversation + then we had a fight and then it was left up to me. And then I called Stella and then we drunkenly decided she should call him + she called him 3x leaving one message -
1. he thinks I'm psycho.
2. I hate him.
3. How could I have been so stupid?

I love my cat. He's 5 lbs - 1.5 lb heavier [but looks like heavje] than 1 mo. ago. He's going to be a man-sized cat.

I hate Freud. He doesn't give a shit about me. He says he does but he lies. All he cares about is himself."

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