My boyfriend (Jon) is out camping again and I'm not about to go with as I'm still prying ticks off my neck from the last time, so I've turned on every video messenger known to man and botkind (too many to mention) and not a soul nor a bot has said hello. Since my face is still on, I may go to Border's and take advantage of their going out of business by purchasing faggy metaphysical books and pink stationery items at 40% to 60% off. Or I may continue staring into the vacuous hole of the Internet. It's nights like this I sort of miss drinking and waking up in puke.
Speaking of faggy metaphysicalness, Jon set me up with his psychic coworker friend. She's coming over to my house tomorrow and I'm super stoked to ask her the meaning of my life. I will then go out and live it once I know what it consists of. This morning it was composed of running toward the freight elevator yelling, "SHIT" as it closed on me while Natalya stood idly by. I then had to look at both her and her boyfriend on the corner while I waited for I'm Onto You, You Lesbian to pick me up for lunch. Unfortunately, they were gone before I climbed into his SUV and therefore there was no opportunity for jealousy. Since you read this, Onto You, I'm sorry I left my Betty Boop totebag full of peanut butter and jelly and grapple juice in your car. I'm not in a hurry to get it back. I'll just eat mashed potatoes this weekend.