79

That notebook has pretty good fuel economy. I am pleasantly surmised. He jerked "off." Gimme three tostadas, hold the salsa. Now I am tire tracks in the friendliness of real estate agents, lasers pointed at the rainbow for the sake of depression glass. Milk glass. My mind wandered across a clown. It faded properly after fifteen washes. I learned to eat from Doonesbury. Proper names guffawed at my painful spiel, and I knew I was meant for bigger, David Sedaris-type things. It made me mellow, complacent, given to drink silently among marine biologists. Max was offended by my interest in Seinfeld. How many miserable relationships should just unplug the tv? Quickly, before Frazier starts, put that thing back in the trash where I found it. You found it. You're it. Repeat after me. Four hundred square feet is not enough for two people. Now repeat everything else I say until we both shut up. It is better to burn out and fade away. It is really good to be sitting down as she leans over the desk to look closer at the color on the monitor. Better than standing by the side of the pool when another one comes by and smiles, not that it has a physical effect on me -- in fact that it doesn't is why the sitting down thing is better, whoa. Less pain now when I see what I like. That and I get ravenously hungry.