i am appalled by 'urban outfitters.' clothes made to look vintage, made to look like you found that sweater for 45 cents down at the salvation army next to all the second-hand underwear, made to look like clothes that an economically strapped hipster might scrounge up, but, my friend, that sweater that looks like it's 45 cents actually costs about $80. on sale. what is wrong with everybody?

some of my programs at work are not functioning. i am essentially useless, more so than usual. you'd think somebody would just take pity and say, "why don't you take the day off and, also, you can take all of this mornings uneaten donuts home as well."

i find amnesia fascinating. and i love that, in movies and cartoons, it's the only disease you can cure by whomping somebody over the head with a globe or a flashlight or a conveniently, precariously placed cement anchor.

chris has a really nice butt. i have a really nice butt, too. it was like we were made for each other.