No Sex and the City

Location: 22:43 yest, my desk with a glass of rum
Mood: confused
Music: maybe You’re gonna be the one who saves me

Her: I read your blog. It’s weird because it almost sounds like you’re giving me lines because you tell me the exact same things you say in your blog.
Me: It’s not like I take someone else’s words and pretend they’re my own – what I write is what I actually say to my friends in real life.

A buddy swings by on Friday for a visit but I don’t have much time to hang out. Spend the night watching the last James Bond flick (which rocks) with HEI and some takeout.

Saturday’s a strange day. Get caught in the rain before I head to a dinner party with the girl in the top pic from this entry when Syd’s lens cap falls into the subway tracks. Have to wait an hour for someone to fish it out. At the party, the toilet gets clogged and I’m the only one that tells the host about it. Course, people think I did it, but whaddya gonna do? Meet a blue-eyed girl whom I walk back and tell I’ll meet up for caramels. She says she’s game.

Because of the movie, lately a lotta people tell me that my life is like the male Sex and the City. Dunno – never seen an episode. Don’t understand why, though, it’s not like I sit around drinking pink drinks, gossiping all the time and jumping from bed to bed. It’s tough enough falling asleep in my own bed.

Besides, life is in the living – you should be living your real life and not watching someone else’s made up one, yeah?

Unless, of course, it’s James Bond.


Yes, it looks like something interesting. It’s not, just friends.

Been wondering if the SING really exists. It’s the hopeless romantic in me; after thinking HeartGirl was her, now I keep wondering if I’ll ever run into her again. How ridiculous.

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