Bumper cars of logic and change cavort about at this moment as Patti, thee Patti, thee only Patti, thee only wall-eyed Patti, sings Because the Night as I crave and yearn and post and am about to head back out for ding-ding round 4 rest of the night.
Had dinner with three lovelies (Kate, Liz, Cheryl) this evening and at one point snatched the comical/seriousical Middling City weekly out of Liz's hands. She tried to stop me, suspecting the brakes would be thrown on my good times. Wrong. I leafed through in smirky silence. Cheryl: We're awaiting your colour commentary, Nancy. Then it was unloosed from my honest, journalistic-raised and diplomatic pair of lips.
I was très inspired to evacuate the premises and squat in front of my very illegally sidewalk-parked car to change the sidewalk sandwich board. ARTVOICE became Fartvice.
Immature.
Sated.
I have simple goals, simple pleasures.
You should all be so lucky.
Yours in Immaturity.