It helps me sleep.
Anyway, I have begun what is looking to be an involved, arduous process in getting any information about my biological parents. The next step, as I understand it, is to send this agency $90 to process my paperwork, which I still have to fill out, as well as submit 2 forms of identification.
If I'm doing all of this to find out my biological mother had a weight problem (which I already knew, thanks so much), I'm going to be livid.
Tonight, I said goodbye to Barnaby and Melissa. I'm a heap of a lot sadder about this than I had anticipated. I didn't spend a tremendous amount of time with either of them, but they have always been up for a good time, and were consistently sweet and supportive of whatever I seemed to be doing. I knew them because Barnaby had been Casey's boss in Haggin Hall, and Melissa, his wife, was pretty much the only estrogen I encountered on a fairly regular basis.
Except for Matt.
I digress.
Good-bye, guys. I can't tell you how much you will be missed.
I watched the Jack Osbourne: Back from rehab special on MTV the other night, and I have to admit that I was genuinely touched. I spent a lot of time when I was 19 or 20 with people who were addicted to painkillers, and it's so devastating. The boy is barely 17. Wow.
Then it was followed by an episode of Jackass, which pretty much sums up how fucking stupid the programming execs at MTV can be sometimes.
Tonight I was watching Real Sex 276 or something like that. I've decided that I really want to work in a sex toy factory when I grow up.
*By the way, why am I 23 years old, and still using the phrase "When I grow up?"*
I desperately want to paint veins on latex penises.
The woman who posed for the virtual vagina was waxing a bit too philisophical about her role, however.
She said the following:
"So many people want to sleep with me, and because I can't do that, because I'm getting older, it's nice to know that I'm helping so many lonely men out there. I guess I'm just a people person."
Yeah, thanks for doing your part, honey.
I would like to pay someone $100 to scratch the burned, peeling skin on my boobs for a week, nonstop.
Yesterday, I attempted to watch "The 25th Hour," which was so terrible that I took a nap, and checked my email while this monstrosity was still playing.
Even Ed Norton's beautiful likeness couldn't salvage this piece o'crap.
Goodnight, moon.
Fin.
My apologies and a farewell??? - 2005-10-20
It should be Friday somewhere. - 2005-10-03
It's Friday again! - 2005-10-01
Amendment to previous entry... - 2005-09-26
Longer than I intended. It's to tide you over for another week. - 2005-09-23