dude.

i could fill this w/excuses and i'm sorry and whip me, lovah, but i won't. just know that i haven't written in eight days and i may or may not have a reason.

i'm dizzy and that garlic butter sauce is totally not agreeing w/the vicodin. they're fighting over who gets to make me puke first and i think i just felt a bitch-slap near my liver.

i saw this woman who looked *exactly* like chris kattan. when i say 'exactly' i mean picture kattan in a long black wig and pink matte lipstick and you will have this woman. i actually though that maybe it is him and he was incognito or something. then i thought 'what the fuck would chris kattan be doing at a writer's conference in central florida?'

ok, i need to be up in seven hours and here i sit, still rambling about shit. oooh, rhyme. pardon my spelling, by the way.

howie is the smartest duck in the world. today, he ran right to the refridgerator (whoa...sp) and waited for me to get his evening snack. isn't that cool? he knows where i keep the produce. granted, it took him almost two years to figure that out.... no. my duck is a fucking genius.

oh, FUCK. it's goddamn mardi gras tonight and i was going to bitch about that. ok, my town is small. and old. downtown is, in the words of fucking triple a, 'quaint'. meaning curvy brick roads and lots of shrubbery and pansies. the neighborhoods around the downtown strip have very narrow brick roads and most are one-way. my hood is close to downtown. my town hosts the biggest mardi gras celebration in the area...last year brought almost a million people. probably 30000 were tourists. this million people drunken orgy takes place downtown.

i was trying to fucking vote today w/my mom and we had to manuever through rows of cars that lined *both* fucking sides of the narrow brick roads. we also had to manuever through drunken fucks and their goddamn glowsticks who kept spilling into the street.

litter. not even six and the streets are fucking trashed.

dumb fucks who drive drunk. i saw some jackass driving the wrong way down a major interstate tonight. swerving, too. we had to swerve to miss him. we had to swerve to miss a lot of people. fucking fucks.

oh, and let's not forget the jimmy buffet cover band that played for three fucking hours! i could hear every single whoop from the crowd while sitting in my room.

oh, oh, oh...how about the fact that i counted sixty cars violating some kind of traffic law and forty-seven of them were out-of-state visitors?

i fucking hate mardi gras and i fucking hate that i used to look forward to this night.

wow, i'm angry tonight.

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