fond.

it's been a long time, diary! last time i basted you with hot words was i can't remember ago.

this is the first i've been sick since the last post (one disease ago). at the moment, my throat feels as if i spent my birthday swallowing jacks, crackerjacks, firecrackers, tacks and tax(idermal porcupines). additionally, my whole body is sore, but that's probably from shaking what my momma gave me. if i never hear another madonna song for the rest of my life i'll probably be the better for it.

thanks for the mexican food, mexicans. and thanks to everyone who put on a mask of my face to scare the fuck out of me when i walked out of the bathroom. eleven evans: i swear i thought i was about to be sodomized.

thanksgiving is up the backstretch. i'm envisioning a turkey sandwich. or maybe just a sandwich from a turkish restaurant. or maybe a turkish lover. those sideburns are so sexy, ladies! god, that was racist. so in the spirit of thanksgiving, i will go into the banlieue, and the racaille and i will make smores over a flambeau de renault. if smores don't mean brotherhood (and isn't smore what those needies always need?) then i'm lost.

come and find me. bring soup.