lately i've been wishing death upon my neighbor. nothing painful, nothing elaborate. i just secretly wish the sound of his unnecessarily loud muffler as it roars down the street at all hours: 4am, 7pm... is really the sound of his car moments away from blowing up.

i picked up augusten burroughs' "dry" the other day. as i make my way through it i can't help but think it's having the wrong affect on me. i think it's a praise for sobriety, but as i read it i've been craving a drink. 100 and something days without so much as a drop, and now this book is making me want.

the other day i hatched a plan to shove janitor evil down the garbage shoot, not really but an imagination is a fun toy. i felt horrible thinking it and even saying it to D until today when will stops me and says,"you know we could just shove him down the garbage shoot and no one would know." too funny.