bethb's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- dear websters, have i got a definition for you... I'm going to write a song called "Guess who's moving to the poor house?" because it's me, my friends. Currently I have $538 dollars winging their way to the f-ing irs as we speak. I'm getting 103 back from DC but that's not enough to take the sting out of (let me say it one more time) five HUNDRED and THIRTY EIGHT dolaros. i don't know if that's really a word, dolaros, but dammit it should be. To celebrate not having a roommate i fell asleep in the living room, lights a-blazing. I'm going to go home and change more lightbulbs because i can. and i like light in the house. and outside of the house. and i would like to not be at work tonight until 10:30 again because that is no fun at all. i think having to work until 10:30 at night only to go home to a house recently vacated by a touring band (which means guitar cases in the hall,gaff tape bits on the floor, a drum peddle on the dining room table and the dining room table covered in newspaper because they silk screened tshirts two nights ago and then to have to finish your taxes and end up having to pay even *further* out of your ass is probably the definition of "insult to injury". infact, i think i'm going to submit that to webster's. i don't know how they'll take to the concept of having to do something *further* out of your own ass, but i'm thinking they'll take kindly to it.
4:26 p.m. - 2004-04-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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