"Baby puppy!" I yelled, as I barreled in through the door. The fur ball that greeted me was much bigger than the one I remembered leaving a few weeks before. His whole back end was wagging with excitement as he bounded around my feet, alternately licking my toes and the floor. I dropped what I was carrying (read: the cat) and swept up the puppy in my arms. He immediately licked my face, and then proceeded to bite my nose. "Ow!" I exclaimed.
"Love hurts." my mother said, patting my back and taking the puppy from my arms.
September 20th, 10:32 PM
Just once in my life I would like to feel like the center of the universe. I want to feel like nothing I do is wrong.
How did I get here? Where exactly did my life veer off the path I'd always seen ahead of myself. When did I become this person I am today? How did this happen? How did all this happen? Where did all those people go, the ones I was so sure of, the ones I thought would be in my life forever? Where are they now? When did we drift so far apart? When did they become anything less than intrinsic to my existence? When did I become so unsure of things? When did I become so unsure of myself?
September 21st, 1:03 AM
I am the antithesis of sexy. With my nose bright red, and my nostrils glistening with just a hint of snot, I lay across the bed and try to look seductive. A few scented candles are lit, and used tissues are scattered about the room. I am trying to create a certain atmosphere. I call it "the sickly brothel". Just as I am about to speak, I begin to cough so hard that my eyes tear up and I can barely breathe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, moving to my side and smoothing my hair away from my face. I nod, still trying expel a lung from my body, and wave him off. Earlier in the day, I had decided to photograph and catalogue everything that came out of my lungs. I don't tell him that, of course. I don't want to spoil the mood. I make a mental note to break out the camera as soon as he leaves. When my fit subsides, I look deeply into his eyes and proceed to fight for my cause.
"Baby," I sigh. "I'm not that sick. Really." If my words didn't sound so rough and nasally, I might even believe what I was saying.
"You look sick, and you just called me 'Baby'. You are, at the very least, feverish." It's true. I don't do pet names.
"It is so cold." I say, trying a new tactic. "Why don't we get under the covers and try to generate some body heat." I say suggestively, and then add a wink. And that is when I realize that I have sunk to a new low.
September 25th, 10:43 PM
My dog snores. Loudly. I think he may also suffer from sleep apnea. And every so often, just for good measure, he starts barking. All in his sleep. It could be worse, I tell myself. He could be gassy too. But, luckily, the dog seems to save his gas these days for trips to my parents house. The president, on the other hand, totally farted while sleeping on my bed yesterday. I had never heard a cat fart before, and I think it was something that I could have lived the rest of my life without experiencing.
September 28th, 3:52 AM
"Love hurts." my mother said, patting my back and taking the puppy from my arms.
September 20th, 10:32 PM
Just once in my life I would like to feel like the center of the universe. I want to feel like nothing I do is wrong.
How did I get here? Where exactly did my life veer off the path I'd always seen ahead of myself. When did I become this person I am today? How did this happen? How did all this happen? Where did all those people go, the ones I was so sure of, the ones I thought would be in my life forever? Where are they now? When did we drift so far apart? When did they become anything less than intrinsic to my existence? When did I become so unsure of things? When did I become so unsure of myself?
September 21st, 1:03 AM
I am the antithesis of sexy. With my nose bright red, and my nostrils glistening with just a hint of snot, I lay across the bed and try to look seductive. A few scented candles are lit, and used tissues are scattered about the room. I am trying to create a certain atmosphere. I call it "the sickly brothel". Just as I am about to speak, I begin to cough so hard that my eyes tear up and I can barely breathe.
"Are you okay?" He asks, moving to my side and smoothing my hair away from my face. I nod, still trying expel a lung from my body, and wave him off. Earlier in the day, I had decided to photograph and catalogue everything that came out of my lungs. I don't tell him that, of course. I don't want to spoil the mood. I make a mental note to break out the camera as soon as he leaves. When my fit subsides, I look deeply into his eyes and proceed to fight for my cause.
"Baby," I sigh. "I'm not that sick. Really." If my words didn't sound so rough and nasally, I might even believe what I was saying.
"You look sick, and you just called me 'Baby'. You are, at the very least, feverish." It's true. I don't do pet names.
"It is so cold." I say, trying a new tactic. "Why don't we get under the covers and try to generate some body heat." I say suggestively, and then add a wink. And that is when I realize that I have sunk to a new low.
September 25th, 10:43 PM
My dog snores. Loudly. I think he may also suffer from sleep apnea. And every so often, just for good measure, he starts barking. All in his sleep. It could be worse, I tell myself. He could be gassy too. But, luckily, the dog seems to save his gas these days for trips to my parents house. The president, on the other hand, totally farted while sleeping on my bed yesterday. I had never heard a cat fart before, and I think it was something that I could have lived the rest of my life without experiencing.
September 28th, 3:52 AM
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