the sound of one hand clapping...

ok, today i am sitting in my [piece of shit] cubicle [that i finally asked to be moved out of] and from deep inside me i had a thought. i should listen to paris hilton's new CD online. brain, stop it. stop clicking, put down the mouse. what do you think you are doing?

i've actually listened to the whole thing. some songs twice. um, there's a moral to this story somewhere...it likely has to do with coming to work still quite possibly drunk slightly before noon(asylum's 15th anniversary party. naughty nurses and stripper poles. kick yourself for missing it).

is this a sub-conscious self-flagellation? someone please tell me this is me, telling myself i shouldn't close bars on wednesday nights, drink sparks until sunrise and play frisbee in the street, have the police say "stop throwing that frisbee ma'am" over their megaphone [too lazy to get out of their car?], run to another street, lose the frisbee in the gutter and then open a manhole cover, order my boyfriend to reach in and grab it with his feet. he did.

so my favorite line so far is "if you think you're sexy clap your hands."