For some reason today, I don't feel much like writing one of my long signature entries. Therefore, I will simply note my status and relate some of the highlights of my weekend, in the hope that something interesting resides therein.

I took the day off. I'm going to hell because I told them that my dog was sick. He isn't. I'm in my apartment, eating cold chinese food and drinking cranberry juice. I have six cigarettes in my pack. I'm contemplating masturbation. I'm contemplating masturbating while watching porn. I stink so I should take a shower. I have two loads of laundry going. I have to pee. Excuse me. I'm back. I'm clipping my toenails and putting them in the ashtray (the clippings not my toes). I have a fan in the window. It's 81 degrees and I'm wondering why I'm not at the beach. I'm wondering why my keyboard doesn't have a farenheit or celsius key. Or a British pound key. I'm waiting to hear about a job writing for a software company. I'm thinking of teaching myself some more HTML. I'm not naked.

We went to a party Saturday night, which more or less turned out to be three people sitting in an apartment wondering when to leave. Sally and I made out while Luscious Jackson played on the stereo. It was a great kiss.

I really hope that being at work tomorrow inspires me to write something more interesting. I'm going to justify this entry by saying that my previous entries have been more Dave Barry than Sex In The City, and a change was necessary. At least in my mind.