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9:43 p.m. - 2002-12-02
Yes, DR. Fix-it. I didn't go through six years of medical school to be called \"Mr.\"
Note to self: Once again you need to realize that it’s all maffmatics. The reason the pills come in different sizes and colors and weights is so that there can be different dosages administered to the (mental) patient and a balance between unfeeling zombie and hypersensitive basket case can be found. You see, Hecka, “dose” is the term used for an amount of medication, and it is variable in many cases to fit the pacific needs of the patient—

Shut it. Okay. I get it.

I cleaned up my whole apartment this weekend. Fuck. What a disgusting mess it was. Now? Apple-pie-order. All ducks in a row. A place for everything and everything in its place. Squared away. Any of these could be engraved on a plaque of the densest hardwood and hung above my door, where as before the only motto that would have fit is “god made dirt so dirt don’t hurt”.

Poor Bean. She came back from her trip to NYC and had her an In and Out burger only to get poisoning of the food variety and have her innards try their damdest to become her outards. In and Out is fucking right. She puked and pooped and had the “I think I’m dying” type of pain that accompanies the gig, and her only comfort was…well, there wasn’t any for a good while. It’s crazy though, even while poop and puke are squirting out of their respective ends of her, she is still a sexy piece of work.

I also installed a counter top in my kitchen. It is fantastic. And I helped my friend by changing his doorknob. And I helped his roommate by drilling two holes in her bed-frame. And I affixed several things to walls around various places by use of screw gun. I am Dr. Fix-it. If you live around the bay area and need me to fix something, just let me know.


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