dreams of the sea, caught way inland . . .

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09/2003
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A journal of my dreams.



10/09/2003

Craaaaaaamps... suck... die!

I wish I were a celebrity. I'd be a kickass celebrity. I'd make fun of other celebrities and go to the Oscars in $7 secondhand flare-leg pants and no makeup. I'd also piss people off by being really political and opinionated. I'd hang out on public beaches and give autographs, and not go to restaurants at one a.m. that close at midnight with an entourage of a hundred and expect to be seated and treated like a queen. I'd give lots and lots of money to charities. I'd write to creators of my fan sites, and my hate sites. I'd not speak through a "rep," I'd not answer any question I found too personal, and I wouldn't hesitate to slag someone if I thought they were shit. Like Jennifer Lopez.

Go see my photo tour. (The scenery one is the only running template thus far.)

I have roots. They annoy me. I must get rid of them this weekend.

I'm craving Cool Ranch Doritos. I should buy some on my way home from work, 'cause they never have them at the store on the way to Joel's.

Back to writing about crap. Ahhh.


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