je ne t'aime plus mon amore.

and i dont speak french. but i know what that means. it means: i do not love you any more my amore.

one of my favorite songs to just belt out anywhere is as follows:

when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, thats amore. when the world seems to shine like youve had too much wine, thats amore.

great stuff. learned it in... maybe... fourth grade.

you wouldnt know i was there cause i have been there all the time.

i fell asleep at work. yeah, i went this afternoon. extra work never hurts. but, yeah, i fell asleep.

boss's boss lady walked in and saw me. just laughed. i stretched and stood and waited for time to leave. she just continued chuckling.

its going to be that kind of week yo.

i need to, honestly, be in bed. but i wont go for another hour or so. ive got stuff to write and a shower to take and emails to respond to.

i really dont want to do anything tomorrow. but apathy is such a damn stupid way to go about life.

what i would really like is to be in the house i grew up in. i would like to be sleeping in the bed i slept for years in.

but hell, i dont even want that. not right now. right now i could go for just... someone familiar in the room with me. someone i could just smile at.

yo, a lot of people dont know my real name. people who know me physically, im talking bout. like people who know me through the girl. nicknames and such, you see.

i member, once, i was over at the girls watching some tv. a friend of hers stopped by, came in, watched a little tv with us.

friend was saying something about one person on this show that had the same name as me. talking bout how namesharer was crazy, crack smoking and such.

i said "yeah, all crayons are insane. you cant trust em a bit."

cept i didnt say crayon, you see.

and the friend kept on talking, but the girl looked over at me with a glint in her eye and this little smile.

and GOD DAMMIT why do i relive those moments.

i should just have her kick me really hard and remember that late at night.

saturday or so my mom was sewing a button on my pants for me.

cause, yeah, she likes to feel all motherly. make up for the past and such. other memories i dont want to get into now.

and so she stopped me, said this is the button i found, but the thread doesnt match this thread.

so i said yeah, i sewed it back on once before with just some random thread.

my dad laughed and said ooh ho ho when did you get all domestic!

in a french accent. of course.

but not really. but if my dad just broke into really bad french accent tempered with a southern drawl at random moments, ooh how many more of my friends and friends wink wink nudge nudge would i bring home!

i hate !. i hate reading the back of video cassette boxes and having them tossed about.

"and when the train collides with the milk truck diary tainted action ensues! but then mary must decide save the lactose intolerant passengers or the ones on fire! an epic of immense proportions!"

it doesnt get me hyped up. not at all.