Attitude

I'm getting some attitude, getting my groove on. It's "In these shoes" by Kristy MacColl; it's "Laura" by the Scissor Sisters; it's "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon, and I've got them all playing on my playlist. Enqueued as it were. I'm grooving in my bra while the fish and "teeter" tots cook in the oven. I'm grooving in the warmth of sunlight in my living room, and I'd invite the world to this party if only they'd lay the fish at my feet and leave me bowls of honey and milk. A little wine for the cheese in the cut of my gib. My baby dances in her pooh panties and plays Spiro on the PS2, a game that Isaac taught her before he left with his mother for the day. With the good feelings, the Tylenol is kicking in; talking to Tali, and more important, having time to listen to her, was cathartic--oh so refreshing. Wish I could spend every day in sunshine and bliss and every night out under the stars or crammed around a dining table talking dirty with friends and playing pitch. It's all good, it's all good, it'll all be all right and I can't stop stroking the cover of my new journal. A V-Day PI'm getting some attitude, getting my groove on. It's "In these shoes" by Kristy MacColl; it's "Laura" by the Scissor Sisters; it's "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon, and I've got them all playing on my playlist. Enqueued as it were. I'm grooving in my bra while the fish and "teeter" tots cook in the oven. I'm grooving in the warmth of sunlight in my living room, and I'd invite the world to this party if only they'd lay the fish at my feet and leave me bowls of honey and milk. A little wine for the cheese in the cut of my gib. My baby dances in her pooh panties and plays Spiro on the PS2, a game that Isaac taught her before he left with his mother for the day. With the good feelings, the Tylenol is kicking in; talking to Tali, and more important, having time to listen to her, was cathartic--oh so refreshing. Wish I could spend every day in sunshine and bliss and every night out under the stars or crammed around a dining table talking dirty with friends and playing pitch. It's all good, it's all good, it'll all be all right and I can't stop stroking the cover of my new journal. A V-Day present to myself. The cover has an elaborate red shoe, a mule from the 1800's, with red ribbon in great condition. I could wear those shoes. I would love it. In the journal I've been filling pages with my dreams and analysis, and how I met a woman I think is the new teacher I've been waiting for.

... I would continue with my bliss, except some asshole just dumped a Trojan on my system, and now I'm being bombarded by pop-ups and announcements from Norton Antivirus that it's just deleted the various virii for the ten thousandth time in five minutes. Grr.