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who all plans to attend my art party next wednesday feb. 6 at the crooked star (202 ossington ave.) 7.30pm? can you tell me in my comments or email me. maybe i should make another facebook event so i can check it every 2 minutes.

my throat has been hurting, sore chafed feeling since i woke up yesterday, it is fucking with my equilibrium blog wise, i have a few tidbits to share but am too feeling sorry for myself to edge the funny out. dlag9obfrvf. we are going to have a nice meal tonite and i am not going to blog it because they (restaurant) don’t deserve the fucking free advertising ever again they ignored my email linking to the nice post i did on our first dining experience there and i am still bitter about it, and the second time we ate there it was crappy and then i accidentally deleted all of the pictures of our food which made me feel even bitterer.

yeah i’ll blog food pictures anyway because i think about food and eating all the fucking time and i’m sort of a loser.

i have to buy a new rock t-shirt cos i can’t find my queen shirt and it’s bugging me. there are a few affectionate little holes in the back of it upper back area too. it’s probably wedged between two drawers or something. i still want a new rock shirt anyway. weekend motive here i come.

this would happen to me. oh wait i think it probably already has.

i am going to grow my hair down to the back of my knees.

building shit-talk update:

i was just snickering something fierce cos someone’s new fire alarm (we all got them) kept going off, i was hoping it was one of the neighbours on either side of us cos they’re so fussy and uptight and yelly but it wasn’t oh well, it was the nice lady down the hall’s, though i did delight in the fact that the sound of the alarm really got under the skin of the dude who always yells at his ‘ole lady i can hear him yell-talking about it right now through the wall, in fact.

this morning i heard all this wall scraping going on and tried to fight it and get some more sleep then the wind knocked a chair over on the balcony then i heard knocking that i thought was part of the maintenance through the wall (apt. of the yell guy’s) i go back to sleep then am aroused (not the sexy kind) and have to throw on old trusty sweater dress and pop the door open just as the super is excuse me dear we need to come inside and the maintenance dude is on my heels complaining about how he had to go and get the super cos i wouldn’t answer the door the first time (i was sleeping!) and it sounded like maintenance, yes, knocking disguised as maintenance i was trying to ignore because i don’t like strangers.

i was too out of sorts and embarrassed to fire back that i was not fucking informed about the necessity to come into my kitchen to see the other side of the wall you are mangling during my awesome REM cycle where i was flying and partying and other awesome shit i can’t remember. when things happen in this building they type up a memo and stick it in your door the night before.

i also didn’t think to mention that three walls in our condo are falling apart too.

i think i’ll save that one up for when the work is fully completed on the unit (yelling guy’s) next door and the maintenance dudes are long gone, then will have to come back all over again to work on our unit.

ps. i’m not an ungrateful spiteful asshole even though i sound like one 100% of the time, i just like to over-analyze every single observation i ever make, ever, all the time, always, and then some more on top of that, because people are a never-ending vessel of material.

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