chastity blackbelt

I resent my sweatpants today in ways they can't quite understand. I know for a fact they've held me back in recent social endeavors (another example). Someone also once said that I looked like Topol from "Fiddler on the Roof" in them (probably not erotic?). The deal is that I'm pro-warmth, plus these pants and I have been through many ticks on the timeline, including but not limited to a dance performance (I wore kneepads underneath, which explains how they've stretched into Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'Em shape), Malibu dunkhoops playoffs (and the Finals in Austin), countless slumber (and no-slumber) parties... This reminds me of what Mary Chen said about still owning and wearing clothes from high school. Nostalgia + unnerving + count those new tree rings. It's time to fold/retire.

Also, a good friend's vocational hunt makes me want to add that if you need help with your resume, I'm your bird. Send me those points for bulleting and lights for hi-ing! Hey, I'll even give you tips on choosing the correct paper stock for $ucess.

In conclusion, it's now raining spittily from the sherbet hotflash sky. Apocalypso. Basically the way I feel today, too...melt that cup of dirty sugar.

fell on 2005-01-04 at 10:44 a.m.

<< o >>