soooo. this nablopomo is beginning to wear on me ever so slightly. mostly because i don’t have enough intelligent stuff to say every night, cause i’m tired. i said it all in the day. at my job that pays me the big bucks to theorize, plan, create process, organize and manage. so at night, i’m just a little sleepy.
and i had my left over like date night butternut squash linguine from last night for dinner. carb and butter overload.
basically, all i need to say about what i am thinking is this: i need to date, love, marry a writer.
and if jason schwartzman wasn’t already my perfect mate, he is now. because anyone that questions my need to be with a writer has not seen bored to death on hbo.
and now, i must cancel my cable because the season is over. and i really can no longer justify paying all that money to watch friends, seinfield, the office, and everybody loves raymond reruns on tbs every night.
meanwhile, you can take writer to include song writer. cause, well, duh.
i’m here, mr. writer…right here, waiting. i laugh loudly, but you’ll get used to it, promise. come find me!
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