1. Thursday, January 23, 2003

    in any relationship 

    theres going to be some fucked up parts and some not so fucked up parts.

    last night when i got back from working at the gravel pit i saw in my mailbox something that i never thought i would see, an envelope from the daisy princess with two keys. one to the beach house and one to my hollywood mansion. there was a little note that was short and sweet, and with that i knew that it was finally over between me and she and out came the bottle of rum, and down went the rum down the gullet and on went life as it should.

    and trust me, readers of these pixels, ive persued my fair share of blogs and ive seen people break up and typically one party bitches and moans and reveals confidences and spits and snorts and kicks up dust, but thats not how we do things in the busblog.

    ashley princess, glitter girl from another world, i wish you the best with the new boy that you are dating.

    i hope he treats you the way that you should and takes you to all the places that you like to go to, and floods you with gifts and kisses and constant attention.

    i hope that when your favorite band comes on the car radio that he doesnt pull over and vomits next to a call box.

    i hope that when your favorite actors appear on the television that he doesnt make a face and pretend to slit his wrists.

    i hope that all your dreams come true and he does all the things that you want him to.

    a good friend called me last night and asked me if i was sad and i said sorta.

    and he said, well shit, if some total fox who adored me and would do anything for me and was way smarter than people gave her credit for stone cold dumped me, i would be a little bummed out too.

    and then the rum kicked in.

    and then a messenger from the academy dropped off a screener of Chicago.

    and then my hot pockets dinged in the toaster oven.

    and then before 20 minutes of the movie had played i was passed out on my couch like the dumb little dog that i am.

    christmas lights twinkling, tv blasting, computer whirring, bathroom sink dripping, phillie blunt resting peacefully in the ashtray.

    spent like me.

    patio pundit