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4:41 p.m. - 2002-08-20
I gots an income!
I have three jobs now. I nailed the second interview with the window company and will become filthy rich (able to pay my bills at least) because of it.

Other news is scarce, except that I have discovered that B doesn’t like being called Bean Town for some stupid reason. And I am also not allowed to call her “Homes” in bed.

I’m not sure that this relationship is worth it. I mean, come on.

Bean Town and Homes are two of the funnest things to say, and if she is putting those things off limits, what’s next? No, Biancy-donkey punch, no Bean Town, and no Homes. What the hell does she expect of me? What should I call her?

Fucking women. I am not allowed to name any future children we may have “Clampy” either. I’m not so sure we are soul mates after all.

Jesus. I had the spirit of good entry in me a few hours ago, but dland was down. Now it has passed. I find myself wanting to talk about how I am finna eat pizza in a couple of minutes, and while it will be tasty pizza for certain, I can’t make it interesting.

Give me a break; I have never really had any formal writing classes. You and B both expect too much, “blah, blah, blah…Homes isn’t sexy…this and that…turning your shirt inside out is not the same as changing into a clean one…rant and rave…if you were really skilled at diarying you could make anything interesting…”

Suck it!

(I don’t mean you Bean Tow—I mean Bianca, you know I would never say anything like that to you. You my homie, girl!)

 

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