killed brain matter

disorganized.

whoa.

at 30 I'm slowly accepting the fact that I am a closet perfectionist and controlled control freak. My fucking apartment is a mess and has been a mess for over 10 days. Now that the german shepard has left I can clean away the stray hairs and dust bunnies left in my 100 lb bitch's wake.

today I'm dazed and tired from a wasted weekend of wasted dreams, killed brain matter and pickled organs. hard eight. I want to get blazed.

I signed up for an editing course at the university of chicago through work beginning in september. that's going to be super boring.

on saturday I was at a BBQ hosted by a yuppie friend. There were other yuppies in attendance with their offspring. At one point there was a baby corral of seven screamers. I like to go because they only have them once every three months. I get to listen to conversations about selling one condo for another. All of the women are well-dressed and disatisfied/all of the guys are my age and total pussies. It's like being at a party that your parents throw.

Even with money a wife and a kid I wouldn't spend a dime at Pottery Barn Kids. I'd pick up a liesure suit from Baby Phat.