the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
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9:09 p.m. + 2003-11-13 = she's so lucky, she's a star.
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just ate most unsatisfactory bagel. washed it down with most unsatisfactory fantasia (pound of fruit) drink.
have to write a brilliant paper, 6 pages in length, in the next 2 hours and 50 minutes. i've purposely sat myself at a PC instead of a Mac in hopes that i can sit still long enough and direct undivided attention toward being masterful, creative, poignant, insightful, sharp and clear.
i fear i'm fucked... which is good since this amazingly-present new fear has, as the archives show, been unfounded or at least unwarranted. meanwhile rii mercilessly taunts me with an email of her recently procured polar bread, which madam enjoys with cream cheese and red bell peppars... as we used to do in our flat at basic hotel in uppsala.
i'm happy for her and yet ridiculously jealous (as flames bursting from temples and innerear suggest). why can't i have polar bread? I don't want more stuff, i just want nicer things! says edwina monsoon.
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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]
[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]
