So whatever, you're moving. Pay attention to me! Router. Shmouter.
Which reminds, I told you right that when we went to bless Auts house the kids started up quite a racket. The din. The cacacophony. The resistence. The clammer. The... I had a better word for it last night but I don't remember. Brouhaha?
And then last night, I forgot for a second I was reading a collection of short noir stories and the murder was actually a surprise. I found myself going, wha! gasp! no!
But the book then heightened my awareness that this particular starbucks like the fatburger on lankershim has something shady going on. You have a weird eclectic mix of industry types, hapless PA's being sent over for coffee, old guys who may or may not be up to no good, people who look like they're on or have been on various substances and then wide-eyed or ambivilant, look i just stopped for coffee, why does this place have to be so muther-effin-busy all the time, even though no one has coffee or if they do it looks like a prop. But with the same people. Maybe that's it. No matter when I go, what season, there's a reoccuring element that doesn't change. Its unnerving.
Well anyway enough from me, i've got things to do. Like quilts, and necklaces, and chin hair to attend to. And i got woken up untimely by not 1 but 2 calls within 10min of each other so any chance I had to return to sleep was then squelched. like grapes on a warm autumnal morning.
where's your drill?
in the art room?
what do you mean? do you know where your drill is?
it's in the artroom.
wait hold on. ok no nevermind i think i got it. i just managed to open the gate as i was talking to you. you dont have to come get me...
oh and Pen you're CBB. can't be bothered. cbb. no time. thats what she said. notime!no time!