Unrelated

So...I'm sitting in my room, on my dalmatian-spotted (and furred!!!) pouffe-stool thingy, facing my white iMac G4, with a pair of Oakley Twenties (Fire-lenses, polarized...can see color one!!) protecting my ultra-sensitive, ultra-baggy eyes. Oh me, oh me!

The accumulated dust of six months is on just about everything (except my clothes, which get cycled/chucked/tossed/used everyday), and half my books. Well, the half that I pick up and read anyway.

The Darned Cat (tm) has, over the months, torn a good-sized hole in my mosquito screen, which of COURSE allows the mosquitoes to come in and have a good meal on me...Which I find rather defeats the purpose of having a bloody mosquito screen in the first place, yes?

So here I am, the freak in the floral blue-on-blue night shorts, Esprit tank (colored dung-brown), and my trusty shades...trying to type, and whap mosquitoes at the same time. It's a chore to be me, I can tell you. Fashion disaster, mosquito hater, Macintosh User (I hear that's quite a freaky feat on its own in these 'ere parts, Jacobias!!).

I'm probably not quite in touch with my feminine side. You know, the one that craves cleanliness and order. And if you think I'm implying that males are pigs, you're probably right. Of late however, I've discovered a certain fascination for that fantastic creation called the Lipstick. It comes in all sorts of colors (although I favor the ice blue and shimmery green), and tastes funny when you eat it off. But not to fear! For a lump sum, there's more where that came from. So you just re-apply that gunk, let your lips dry up, then eat it off again. Cool.

Where was I?

It's so easy to get side-tracked when you don't actually have a point to make.

Anyway, the mosquito is dead, the fan's blowing in the wrong direction (I've found that a standing fan blowing at top speed generally keeps the mozzies off me, which is why I have two running at the same time to combat the invasion that swoop through the hole in my screen), my shades are giving me a headache (I think), and I'm hungry!

Hunger = bad. Simply, in this case, because I had a lot to eat at 5pm.

I'm done babbling. It's so cathartic to not make sense when you don't want to. Really. I recommend it :)