2005-03-31 - 1:06 p.m.
It's so warm out and sunny and it smells so good outside. And yesterday this father left the dance studio with his two little kids and I kept thinking how nice it would be to leave my kid's dance studio with shorts on cuz it was just that warm that day in Iowa--and then to go home and watch some primetime and have some dinner with the fam--and put the kids to bed, smoke a bowl, and go to sleep. I have these periodic domestic fantasies infused with recreational drug use. There's just something about singledom (and all virtual freedom as we know it) that I can't shake, and, I imagine, is what has led to me not shooting out a couple of babies already.
Even when it's nice out, I spend a lot of time in my bed, in my tomb of a room, watching Buffy and reading How to Talk Dirty & Influence People. Which is my new favorite bit of lit to devour during my spare time. Read it, he's damn-near a better writer than he was a comic. I'm not fucking kidding. It's also hard to leave my bed when there's a very nice boy in it. And no more details until he proposes. I always jinx everything by writing about it in my blog (or by just being an all-around, standard-issue asshole, but whatever).
