Four hits

Last night’s dream found a plump young Japanese girl with big knockers telling me I-love-you.  Compared to waking reality this was excellent news.  Her hugs and kisses felt real, but there was never any time for consummation as her moped-driving nerd brother kept showing up.


One-shot days off are almost as bad as no days off.  They interfere with my alcoholics’ one-day-at-a-time mental discipline of work suffering.


Will not be seeing Jumper.  Mostly bad reviews, one of which mentioned even the special effects were lame.


The pot cig I have smokes cool, like a menthol mary jane.  Four hits and it was off to the supermark.  I ate half the world when I got back.


“I wish this was over.”
“This post?  It is.”

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