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Tuesday, September 21 2004

Things I wanted to tell you now

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My eyes are the heaviest weights I have lifted in a long time.

You might not believe in horoscopes but I do.

I am only flaky on certain occasions.

I am better than your average kisser.

Change doesn’t scare me. Neither do you.

I am looking for love (in all the wrong places)

I want a goose that lays golden eggs.

I used to be addicted to eggplant parmigiana.

I never felt guilty when I was the other woman.

My bark is equal to my bite.

My net worth is not as much as it should be.

Everytime I go to San Francisco, I get bit by some shnasty spider.

I currently own a red and a pink pair of eyeglasses. I hope to expand my collection.

I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way…

Tell Me You Love Me

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Mow, Mow….

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The cat woke up at 5:20AM even though when we both went to bed, well after 1AM, she still had food in her bowl. Her meow is that of an 18 year old cat, old, whiny, persistant.

The cat moaned again at 8:20, a time when I needed to get up because I have an action packed day. But after having just fed her at 5:20, I didn’t understand why she needed me now.

I checked for puke, because this cat likes to tell me when she’s thrown up, but so far I’ve found none. Usually I step on it, unassumingly, as I’m heading somewhere else in the apartment. Hopefully I step on it before, not after, I’ve showered. It’s usually cold and mushy by the time my bare feet find it’s path. It gets all gross between my toes. I don’t fancy the fancy feast she eats, and I don’t get off on stepping in her vomit.

I’m awake now, just barely. Trying to write something intelligent when the truth is I have so much more to think about today. Meetings, Appointments, Searches. I am going to see 5 apartments in three hours and as I type this the cat is still moaning away. She’s not in pain, just crying out for attention. And she’s really cute, like Puss in Boots, only I imagine if she could do more than let out that pathetic meow, she’d speak some sort of Brooklynese.

Yeah. She’s going back to sleep. Maybe I should meow in her ear and step on her back, see how she likes it. Or maybe, I should let her sleep.

Tell Me You Love Me

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