Well, after tomorrow, the B&N will start to suck a little bit more, because it's my favorite manager's last day. Actually, it might suck a lot more, but I'm happy for him because he's going to be an assistant store manager at a different store. So he'll be raking in the dough, which means he'll be able to buy more treats for his bunny and doggies.
Also, my good buddy Jen Schlueter (one of the 2 smartest people I know, the other being her husband Stinky--which one of them is the smartest is a matter of heated and occasionally verbally abusive debate) sent me a draft of the play she's written, which I have not had the pleasure of reading yet, but which I am very excited to read and very excited to try and come up with music for. I hope that I do not let her or myself down.
Jeannie and I have only one more weekend of babysitting left after this one, and then we have our weekends back to wine and dine each other.
Oh shit! I almost forgot to write that the other night I had a dream that one of George Bush's daughters married Vanilla Ice. I have had a few experiences in my life that I would describe as "mystically perfect" or "cosmically perfect", when the universe seems to align in some strange way for a brief moment to give you a glimpse of something supernatural (like when my 3 turds lined up in parellel lines in the toilet, is the only other time I can think of) and this dream was one of those moments. I think when I have a milkshake right before bed it makes me have some whack dreams.
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