ISellOranges.com

I had lunch with my friend J-Dog earlier, I had a good time.  We went to Bertucci’s and, as expected, the rolls were still my favorite part of the meal.  I was baffled by the absence of butter but my anxiety (yes, I freak out if I cannot have butter with my bread) quickly moved to a feeling of ecstacy when I watched the waiter give us a plate containing olive oil, red crushed pepper, black pepper, and salt, in other words “italian butter.”  The waiter sucked donkey balls, I couldn’t figure out if he were stoned out of his mind or if he were really that uninterested in waiting our table.

My friend, J-Dog, asked the purpose of my journal and then he went on to tell me how he is trying to get into a regiment for writing-work related stuff that is- and thus the interest about my site.  I often wonder if I do this more for me than for others-like my family and friends- so they know that I am still very much alive, although I know quite a few people that would take great pleasure in knowing the world is better off because I am dead.  I’ll have to think about more about this later.

I just finished reading “I hope they serve beer in hell” my nearly insatiable need to act juvenile sedated,  many a good chuckles later, I am now dumber for having read that book… getting dumber, due to this kind of reading, has never felt so good 🙂

I get to wake up in less than 5 hours and start cooking breakfast.  I invited my sister, her husband, and my cousin over for breakfast.  I’ll be making chicharron! I still haven’t got a clue if I am doing anything else later since I do have to work at 6am on saturday.

I helped a beautiful woman at work today, I liked her a lot.  As god’s twisted sense of humor would have it, since I liked her, she is happily married and has 3 kids, one boy and two little girls.  It has been nearly 12 hours since I helped her and I can still recall the kind of car she drove, the outfit she was wearing, her perfume, her full name and her phone number.  I ought to stop paying too much attention.

I am currently listening to Vivaldi.  Some people hate him, some people love him, I happen to enjoy all of his pieces I’ve been exposed to.  It never ceases to make me laugh when I think about all the virtuosos of classical music writting music; they didn’t write that music for someone else to play it, they wrote it so they could play it!  was that just to fulfill their selfish needs or was it simply so that they could keep putting food on the table?  Yes, it is past 3am and I am thinking about this stuff, I should’ve watched Requium for a Dream.