fuck, I don't mean to whine, but...

Everything I was going to say, has dwindled down to this:

I feel so sick, nauseous.

The last hour of work was very painful, literally. I don't know why...just cascading waves of sharp, shooting pain in my stomach. And no, it wasn't gas and it's not womanly. I know what those feel like. This was higher. It subsided soon after I got home, so I decided to go out and sell some clothes. Because I don't get paid for another week still and I'm sick of asking my parents for money. I also stopped at the library and picked up The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. I'm catching up on all of the movies I should have seen already. Heh.

But now it's hurting again, and it's making my back muscles tighter, thus making more pain.
Goddamn.

I'm disabling comments merely because I feel like I'm being a big baby. I'm just writing it down so I'll know when it started, if I need to.

p to the motherfuckin' s

And Target has the new Pete Yorn for $6. If you're into that sort of thing.

And it's disconcerting when a number of people come up to you, know who you are, tell you they went to high school with you, and you don't remember them at all. The name seemed familiar, but he could tell I didn't really know him. I was nice about it though.

Sleep.

pardon, but I think I need to go "swab the deck"

"Swabbing the deck" be an excellent euphemism for takin' a pee.
And I think you all know what NUMERO DOS would be.

If not, ye be a landlubbin' fool, not fit fer me piratin' ways.

I need a b/w pirate icon.

p.s. Covered in beeeeeeeeeees!