Wednesday, Jul. 27, 2005 - 12:36 a.m.
Well, christ. One bitch of a morning has turned into one hell of a day.
As I type this, Thomas sits next to me, half-drunk, half-naked, insisting I post.
No, we are not back together. No, we are not quite broken up. No, I have no fucking clue what the fucking fuck is fucking going on. Fuck. Neither does he.
Oh well, what's a girl to do? Eat gummy bears and cheap red wine and cuddle with my ex. Don't even ask. I couldn't tell you even if I knew. At least he left the chains and handcuffs at home. For now.
Watch this space, kiddies, for more exciting reversals and impending doom. If you're good, and eat your gummy bears, I'll even send you a decoder ring. Then you can figure out what the fuck's going on and brief me in.
Cheers, kids. Too much weirdness for one day.
And now a word from our sponsor:
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Jeez. Evening all. (You'll have to imagine the Brit accent for yourselves).
Trippy day. Capital T, Capital D, Captital EVERYTHING. On the one hand, it's an incredible feeling to have talked somebody back from the brink of... something bad. On the other hand, it's... unusual... to share someone's inner feelings so deeply. As for the "what the fuck"s (apologies to any French viewers)... this is precisely what that word was invented for.
I apologise if this D-minus prosaic attempt isn't quite worthy of the Gwynster's blog. But that's all I'm apologising for right now. Yep, she got me drunk. (White Lie: She was a silent accomplice.) Yep, she got me confused. Yep, I don't know... what the fuck. But I know that what is, sure beats what mighta been.
Sorry folks. Had many lucid points to make. But have spent all day engaged in said pursuit. Brain is now candy. Resembles a gummy bear, but with diminished IQ. No gummy bear ever joined MENSA. Mention that the next time they pester you. Bastards.
Sleep sound. Wish we could. At least we'll sleep tonight. Together.
Thomas.
