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December 20th, 2004

Through a Migraine Haze

Looking for something for your favorite neutered pet this Xmas? Look no further. Nothing says "I love you, Scruffy" like a shiny, new set of testicular implants.


There was more to this post, but it was pointless and made little sense because it was written through the haze of a fucking migraine. Not just any migraine, mind you, but a fucking migraine; the kind that makes you want to throw-up, makes your jaws ache from the intensity of the throbbing and makes even the little clicking noise of the keys on your keyboard as you type this WANT TO STAB SOMEONE IN THE EYE WITH A NEARBY PENCIL!!!!

The lights are off in my office - the door is shut. I'm shaking like a crackwhore from the BC Powder and Coca-Cola (it would've looked really wrong if I'd just written "Coke" in that sentence) I've imbibed, and if I could close my eyes really tight, click my heels and say "there's no place like home" 3x's and magically end up at home and in bed (in the dark), that'd be so very swell. Did I just use the word "swell"? For fuck's sake, I am sick.

I cannot think straight - I can barely type (you wouldn't believe how many times I've had to use the backspace key already - try every other fucking word). I want to go home, and I can't. I don't know why I'm staying, since I'm really no good for doing anything (did I mention I can't think straight?)...argh, this post is going the way of pointless-drivel and nonsensical-ramble again, isn't it?

Blame it on the fucking migraine.

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