hold me down, honey, before i throw myself at you.

chicken essense does not sit well in my stomach. worse still, with goats milk and julie's chez crackers (and i'm not trying to be coolz... it's really spelt cheZ). dedrick wants to run liz over with a truck. tt oughtta straighten her out pretty good. heh.

it's a quiet morning in the eastside, except for whitney singing she wants to dance with somebody. i will promise myself to do well enough for saturday's french interview - well enough to get the free lessons at the AF, but not good enough to get the week-trip (i certainly do not appreciate language being imposed on me)

what's it bout you i like so much? what's it bout you i want to touch?
hold me. hold me. hold me. down.

i'm feeling hungry in a very ambiguous way. it was a good day; retail therapy has proven its effectiveness. i am, however, having that bruised-eye feeling. i am waiting in vain for articles to sub.