The Ghost was more subdued last night. Of course, the kitchen seemed to have been ass-raped by the ghost of Joan Crawford, so what did she have to rattle her chains about? My manic housecleaning, when I do get around to doing it, is nothing short of inspired.
I'll be home in sunny CA in about 6 days. This year I decided to do something while I'm there instead of sit on my ass watching TV. I've got that nailed down here I think.
I was trolling about on the San Diego "Scenic Sights 'n' Such" web page, feeling a tad embarrassed to be doing so. And I came across this link about my hometown. It replused me and at the same time, ingnited in me some strange sort of pride. If you look close, you can see the 7-11s where I bought bottles upon bottles of Mickey's illegaly, puked up hash brownies on public beaches, or snuck into bars to be picked up on by 40 year old loser surfers! Yes, folks, something to be proud of. A memory is a thing of beauty forever. Now, here's .25 cents to call a cab, because you can't sleep here tonight, my old lady's gonna be home from her shift at Dirty Dan's in an hour.
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