Thursday, April 8

Tell them anyway, and you can make it up as you go
I know my boyfriend better than any other person on this planet knows my boyfriend. But I don't really know my boyfriend. I mean, I love him more than any person on this planet, but I don't really know him, like he knows him. It's odd.

When you're feeling down, all you really need to do is go to your car and retrieve from your trunk two shoeboxes filled with letters from your childhood friends you collected between your eighth grade and senior years. Hoo, you'll get a lot of laughter (and tears) out of that exercise. And maybe even a book deal, if I play my ... er ... your cards right.

I'm currently feeling a tad triumphant, though I don't want to jinx my fantastic good luck. I saved my computer from several unwanted .exe files that were stowed away in the crevices of my motherboard. They were making using this machine unbearable, and using the internet positively suicide-inducing. And I finally dug them all out, deleted them, and can post a message on this blog like I've been trying unsuccessfully to for the past four hours.

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