historical fiction

i could tell you about how it was warm today and i felt like i was really in california. or i could tell you about all the pathetic crying a did today over bobby kennedy, princess diana and george o’malley. or about the $7 bottle of spaghetti sauce i bought at whole foods or how sweet the red tires are on my bike.

but f that man.

check out this weird picture i found at my grandma’s when she was moving out. no one knows who these people are or where they are or when it was taken. WHAT DOES IT MEAN? WHY DOES IT EXIST? why do i like bright eyes even though i try really hard not too?

you know what i just some how decided not to do? go to the google christmas party.

yah that was a smart move.

i bet it’s like some enron party. have you heard about their cafeteria? apparently everything is perfect, delicious and FREE. those guys are seriously wealthy. i bet they have an open bar. i bet the shot glasses are platinum and you can take them home as souvenirs.

now it’s just me, netflix and rufus wainright. actually maybe it was worth it. i think i’ll just dance around my room for 2 hours.

change rufus wainright to olivia newton-john.