face time

ms. b. luigi's. death by carbs.

ms. b sent the bread back, fearing the pasta sauce on it was really blood. we saw christian from clueless, a lady wearing her house slippers, and what could only be described as a prostitute. a prostitute who looked like she worked for quarters. the bar got shot down, neither one of us was in the mood. she took me through the ghetto, told me to lock the doors. drove under the bridge that so many people jump from. found our way to wal-mart. i'm always scared when i set foot in a wal-mart. ms. b said she's protect me as she wrapped her arm in mine. the wal-mart by us looks like the place that time forgot. you can people-watch for days at the trainwrecks that inhabit that place. we played with star wars toys. dug through a never ending bin of $5 dvds. i found pump up the volume for her, girl, interrupted and the muppets take manhattan for me. she looked at shoes. i did my best to get her to buy the hooker pumps that i found. i was shot down. we looked at cds, got creeped out by at least five people, made our purchases and left as they were closing. i was forced to listen to nelly and tim mcgraw against my will. we chilled at her place and played the videos ondemand. rocked out to some kelly c. laughed at the mullet nick gave the victim on what not to wear. and headed home a little after 2am. i'm slowly easing into the new us, and it feels right.

rough around the edges . teitur