I am unabashedly not working. I officially hate my job. Not my coworkers; I genuinely love my coworkers. But I really do hate the lawyers. How those people can live with themselves is just beyond me. These extremely litigious people, brothers and sisters suing each other over the estate of a not-even-dead parent, for example: how they sleep at night is a mystery. So I just don't believe in the importance of my work. It is honestly more important to me to write stupid shit on a blog that people love to hate.

Wah fuckin wah. You didn't hear me complaining in December when my company was practically stuffing money down my pants.

Anyway, went out with the CO girls last night and that bastard Johnny. Drank too much. A little dizzy at work, but I don't think it's still-drunk dizzy. I hope not, anyway.

And sexpigeon, hmm: it certainly doesn't want for content. And yesterday I would have gleefully expressed my, um, glee that Tag has begun the consummation of his resolution to post something daily. Today, however...today the site kept wanting to debug, and it looked all funny, and I got annoyed. The thing is that I love the aesthetics of sexpigeon, so when it looks fucked up, I can't bear to read it.

Gushing is so 2004. Nicky P. hates it when I gush about things, so I should stop. I think he kind of hates it when I talk at all. Demure restraint. 2005 is all about demure restraint.

Oh, but have you seen my disgusting bruise?