I like chasing cars with my By Myself.

I'm working on it.
No really, I'm working on it.Okay, I'm not. But I used to here and here. Somewhat.I wonder if I'll ever clean up the type in my header. I'll take a nap on that.

In case you ever needed to know:
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mom: Ohhhhhhhhhhh...
mom: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh...me: .........mom: (singing, too near my head)...mmmmmmmmmm-maresseedotes and dosiedotes and little lambs eat iiiiiiiiiiiivy....me: Stop it. Anyway, It's Mares Eat Oats, or Mairzy Doats. I shouldn't know this.mom: Ya know why we used to sing it that way? (dancing around me in a circle getting smaller and smaller) Because we thought we were singing in another language...me: And

My Dad had a beautiful dream, I can do basic math now, and my mom's gone deaf.
mom: "Yep, that's what he'd say every time...blonde, blue-eyed, with big boobs..."me: "And don't forget deaf."mom: "Oh-ho yes, that's what he'd say to me and everyone at The Knife and Fork Club, when I'd tell 'em that I wish I hadda married a gay man. Your Daddy'd say, 'Well yeah, I wish I hadda married me a li'l ol' blonde with big, blue-eyes, big boobs, and she'd be a deaf-mute."me: "You keep

Dear Apartment 42
You do know that at night, when you have the light on and the blinds are open, I can totally see you talking gibberish to your cat while you change your pants, right? If not, then oops. If so, then dude, you've sullied my porch time. You have to know this. I've thrown marbles at your window. We've been through this. Dude. Seriously. For real?Love,Apartment 22ps: I like you, I do, but dude.