You claim to never know the right thing to say. Past 24 hours, less than 36. I've lost track, so I guess not me. I have managed to reach semi-incoherant, but not tired. Pink warrior needs food badly.
Pink warrior is about to die.
I am mindnumbingly bored. I've heard the tired old line of only boring peaople can be bored, but fuckit, I'm generally an at least semi-interesting person, and I'm bored as all get out. It's that strange Middle-America flavor of boredom, the kind that gives rise to generations of ever so lightly unruly freckled youth buring ants with their father's magnifying glass. Lucky for the ants on my porch, I suppose, moonlight, I would expect, would have less than satisfying effects. I have lots to relate, just not the motivation to go about it.