October 15, 2004 - 6:41 p.m.

I wore my fucking lucky orange underwear and everything. What a waste of laundry.

What a crappy day. It's ruined my lucky panties.

Rainy, cold.

Did I mention it's going to cost FIVE HUNDRED AND TWELVE DOLLARS to fix my car. And that's just the "estimate".

The nasty weather is making my bad knee very painful. My bronchitis is not clearing up depsite quinolone antibiotic.

The woes of the elderly have found their way into my existence.

Trying to cheer self up. Work girlfiends coming over for fish sticks and a movie. I'm forcing them to see "Saved!". What a great film.

Where the hell am I going to get $512? Perhaps I could sell my body on the corner. Anyone interested in a limping, phlegm hacking fag hag who needs to dye her roots?

Didn't think so. Maybe should wait until Monday to see how much money my Honey made on his contracting job in Connecticut.

I hate sleeping alone. I wish it was Monday.

Dan found an old picture of me and some friends at a party last year when the old gang lived in the house. I am clearly very high and wearing a lamp shade on my head. He made this photo the wallpaper on our computer and wrote a little poem.

"there she was, like a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon of light to guide stoned sailors somewhere. no one, not even she knew where they were going, but at least they were going somewhere with a fabulous lamp-shaded girl."

Despite the obvious alterations, it has a ring of familiarity. It's official, I live with a plagarist.

I'm so mad I wore my lucky underwear. On lucky underwear days is when I find a five dollar bill in the parking lot, score a free dinner from visiting friends, have really hot sex on the kitchen counter, or just simply manage to earn more money than I spend. Wasted.

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