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Wednesday, November 13, 2002
I'm just a singer in a rock n roll band.
Not really, but today I would rather be waking up in my Hollywood Hills bedroom in an alcohol induced fog next to some hot young boy. Or girl. and then spend the next hour or two trying to piece together the random, brilliant flashes of memory from the night before. But who needs a memory when you're a fucking rock star?
Instead I woke up to the sound of a barely one year old puppy crying to go out and my roommate (who I now think of as the behemoth, but only in my head, not to her face) filling up the tub for her quotidien two hour fucking bath. So when I came back inside, having to piss like a bloody racehorse, I had to wait. Because I am too much of a chicken shit to knock on the door. And I just can't bring myself to pee in the kitchen sink. All that said, I'm in a pretty good mood this morning.
I am trying not to sabotage a budding relationship. He won't fuck me. Yet. It's fine. I know it's bcs he likes me. But is there to be no benefit from being over 30? Can I get laid, please?