5:11 p.m. - 2002-12-14
I got a bad case of the bubonic flu the last couple of days. That shit sucks, but Thera-flu once again made me feel sleepy-nice.
So, Trent Lott is prolly out. Notice how it is the republicans who are screaming the loudest? Thatís because they probably have some other ruthless fuck-face in mind for the spot that will be able to wreak more havoc than ever.
Apparently the bubonic flu has wiped clean my ol memory piece and took away any idea of what I wanted to write about. I donít know what it was. Iím is a typiní daze right now. You know what makes me cry? When sit-com characters pull out their guitar and sing to one another. Iím not kidding. It doesnít make me all emotional really, just makes me tear up. And I cried when I saw ďMy Dog SkipĒ the first time. I cried when his dad let him keep the puppy. For fucks sake. Although I had partaken of a disco biscuit or two the night before.
And, without disco biscuit in system, I have begun to cry when watching the latest Pink music video with the little lip-synching girl.
Does that make me any less of a man?