I'm just gonna do stream-of-conscious writing. Whatever comes into my head. My tongue almost burns and my stomach is nauseous from the rich Lindt chocolate (with the raspberry liquid center). I have a headache of an undisclosed nature. My staple remover could be used as a weapon in an event of a terrorist attack. Plastic toad on my monitor. Nothing on my mantel, because I do NOT have a fireplace anymore and I miss that. I do not miss the pile of ashes that you can never quite clean from a fireplace. I once tryed to vacuum old fire ashes up and that was a mistake. That was back when I was living with my ex-husband aka "Cut me up with a fucking ax into a million pieces." Which reminds me of the time that "cut me up" McCormick (my last name was Mccormick for 2 years, just like the spice company!) told me this story (true or not? who knows but fascinating) about how Pablo Picasso was not breathing when born and his uncle blew cigar smoke into his lungs and it was said that because of that singular act of saviour, that Pablo was addicted to some sort of nicotine his entire life. I wonder if I have a bladder infection? A vaginal infection? Or just a case of the "drank alot of water" recently? My flowering plant no longer has any flowers on it. They were starting to die so I took ALL the tiny pink flowers off. The newborn flowers are fuschia and when they start to die they fade to a more powdery pink. I still like the way the plant looks, though. It is part of the jade family and has large dark green shiny leaves that cascade in a hoop skirt formation. I wish I could have a venus fly-trap. I love those things. I like sticking my fingers in them. I wish I had more than $40.00 right now to only last a week, when that won't even get enough cat food and nutritious groceries until I get paid next Friday. I wish I had a pronounced chin line. I have the Harshbarger curse of having a very weak chin line. It makes me feel like I have a round, chinless face. Tornado dreams..I haven't had any for quite some time. I wish I could see the sky turn a brick red. I wish I could walk through knee-high snow with big moon boots on. I wish I could suck on an icicle. I wish I could go swimming at "Devil's Kitchen." I wish I could eat cheap Chinese Food at "Happy Inn" in Carbondale. I remember spilling curry all over a white vintage petticoat that I wore as a slip back in those days. Back in those days when brown-sugar poptarts where followed by awkward and fumbled kissing sessions. When boys gave me plastic spider rings. When I used to suck a neck so hard it would become this terrible bloom of a bruise, all yellow and purple, like a hybrid marigold and pansy patch. I have no passion left in me. I can barely muster up a hug some days.

do the jerk * do the frug