There’s omish people on the subway, the other day.
While picking up my glasses in Pentagon City, the former Secretary of State walked up behind me.
My laptop is still somewhere over idaho and not working.
I got a letter from an aquaintance from high school telling me how God is opening up for his band and wants his autograph.
And the only female that’s slept with me in months drinks out of the toilet bowl.
Sara says this would be a good time to drink. I haven’t yet come up with a reason not to.
But on the way home today, I noticed the bus shelter down the street was scattered for about a block, in big chunks. And parked half up on the curb was someone sitting in a dented Chevette. The looked pretty depressed.
But I can’t be sure if it was because of the accident, or because they were driving a Chevette.
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