I have been browsing friendster all morning. I haven't done that in years. Remember '03, when it was new and fresh and no one had seen anything like it before? Now it brags 19 million users and they send me spam to remind me to log in. I sent some random e-mails to men-that-looked-vaguely-dateable. I am not holding my breath.
I kinda burnt out on Craigslist. Frenchy-Noir called me last night we chatted for a while. I really should buckle down and get another job, instead of looking for dates.
The California Earthquake Blues
Did you feel the earthquakes this morning at about 12:03 AM? There were three. The ground moved sideways. Its such a weird feeling, like you really are living on a gigantic skateboard. I woke up, and barged in on the M*sters party in the den. I met Roger, and we broke open a bottle of champagne to celebrate the temblors and I discovered he is a rockin' pianist. Woah! I got in touch with my blues soul and belted out some songs about love, and 327 and men. That is one of my dreams, to sing blues. It was so much fun, I begged Roger to come over again. Such patience, such tolerance (yeah, the M*ster and I are oft strangers to the idea of *pitch*). Come again, Roger, Milty is yours.