the sun set on thousands of drunk san diegans trudging sunburnt bodies out of the pacific beach block party and hollering at every girl with two legs, two arms, and two breasts.
the dixie chicks are playing and i don't even feel like doing something to change that.
not even the fact that Josh The Terrible was finally voted off american idol cheers me up presently.
i wish i could call you people, you wonderful bloggers, because i know that you are smart and funny and at times hilariously naughty and i'd love a little of that right now.
oh, hey -
happy outdoor sex day, everybody! go celebrate.
i might have forgotten, but half the referrals to this site are from searches for that phrase.
all my southern california birthdays have been cold. all my eastern washington birthdays were hot (okay, except that one year it snowed the day before). go figure.
help. forgot closing quote at very end of last post (final word of which is supposed to be insomniac), causing impossibility to edit post because the "edit" link in blogger is compromised by the unfinished link in post. am feeling silly but too noise-rattled to do anything.
am clever problem-solver, even with bits of ear tissue and clusters of brain cells missing.
this is what happens to you when the background noise during sleepy time is a medley of lawnmowers and jackhammers.
you dream about arguing with the boy who broke your heart in an RV that is halfway sunken into the earth, while the illicit object of his affection strolls by with her posh, laughing friends.
you dream about riding angrily away on a bike whose handlebars face forward and backward, not left and right, and trying desperately to swing the handlebars around to their proper position while traveling down the street in a 40 mile per hour panic.
you dream about catching the elevator up to your dorm, because apparently you live in a dorm, and becoming frantic when the elevator starts moving sideways and you are informed that you are about to embark on a flying tour of the college campus on which you apparently reside.
you dream that the flying tour comes complete with majestic overtures and disneyesque parade music blaring through stereo surround sound, as your elevator transforms into a gondola-type car with your feet hanging free as you fly over the whales your tour guide tells you are swordfighting even though they are clearly just swinging their 100-foot tailfins at one another.
you dream that you fly over your mother and sister, who do not recognize you, but then land right next to them, and this time your mother recognizes you and says to your sister, "that's kathleen" (which is the name you were born with) and your sister says, vacantly, "oh yeah, what last name does she go by now?"
you dream that you walk with your mother and sister into a cafeteria where you meet up with your old maid, because apparently you once had a maid, and your maid begins arguing with a man who seems to be overstepping his rights, and you step up to him and point your index finger into his chest and say, "excuse me, is this your business?" because that is the boo-yah way to end an argument, and then you walk haughtily away with your maid, who is now plotting murder on this man, and with your sister and with, inexplicably, jennifer lopez a la the wedding planner.
and when you wake you really, really wish you were an insomniac.
this morning i was startled awake by a jackhammer beneath my window. not forty feet from my bed, men were drilling into concrete, at an hour it should be illegal to make such a sound. i'd like to say something funny about this, but the simple fact is that i wanted to murder one of those men with my ikea kitchen knife and i still feel like a killing spree isn't a distant possibility if i'm startled at all, perhaps by a sudden sneeze or a pop-up window, and it's taking all my effort simply to calm down.