a breakfast for losers...

I have mono, bitches.
and I've run home to my mommy.

I was writing dirt cheap poetry and took a breather to think or to more so cringe in pain at the impending headache that was about to burst out of my temples. I am sick and puffy-eyed, and I have my window open and the winndd spittin cold blast in coming through, only because it was stuffy and smelling of the veggie patty I just devoured which I buy down the street, usually everyday, and the nice asian couple say, "IS THAT ALL YOU EAT?" and I secretely hope they will take me home and allow me to sleep on their floor.

The laundry machine ate my card. The out of order sign was taken down. A drunk beat up the machine. The machine makes crying dolphin sounds when attacked.

AND.

I am an Aunt. Since yesterday. Happy belated birthday to Andrew Michael-Ronald Stephens. They will call him Drew, but while they are away, I will call him Andy.

oh man.! Why was I oblivious to this?

Unexpected, partly because I wasn't even aware of his condition.
what a loss! I am most definitely tuning in tonight and attaching my ear to the speaker for the entire program.