(no subject)

It was so windy today that walking home from work was a fight. Which was actually sort of nice, because that bad mood I said I'd be out of by today? I'm not. Holy lord am I grumpy. So in walking against the wind I got to do a good bit of stomping, too. Stomping always makes things better.

Dear pants,

I like you a lot and all, but the thing about you being too big and closing with hooks is that whenever I sit down you unhook yourself. And then when I stand back up I have unhooked pants. This is not cute.
So let's quit it with the unhooking, please.

love,
me.

(no subject)

There's a certain school of thought--we'll call it the Toby school, as it's Tobes' theory--which says that it can always tell when the inside of my head is a bad place to be. He says that the following two things happen: 1.) I start to reflect on the whole Nate debaucle as anything aside from an unfortunate affair with a total knob, and 2.) I start to find Reality Bites exceptionally poignant.

I'm beginning to think he may be right. But I haven't the time to ponder it now because Ethan Hawke and Winona Ryder are calling me to identify with their early-20's crisis.