fuzzy

Jamba Juice stuck in between my teeth. I think the seeds from the rasberries that I requested not be put in the fruity concoction. Go figure.

Where am I from a few days ago? I can't help but love. The valve on that faucet was stripped clean long ago. No tork wrenches here. I still must clarify the air with Mark. It's one of those things that the phone just doesn't work for, yet I'm not quite up to having the face-to-face yet. Keep the days coming.

SWORDFISH opens tomorrow. Good, Something to see. I think I'll wait until Randy gets home and trek out to get the MOULIN ROUGE soundtrack.

A curiously nice new entry in my guestbook. I've read some of her more recent works and like. So many of us writers in this world. Some of us in grocery stores, some of us abused by grown-up adolecents with their cell phone toys.

I hear the winds of change and I wonder why it's still so hot all around.

j.r.me