Lust on five dollars a day

For the first time in years, I made a trip to a car dealership to see a car that I want. I felt up a MIni Cooper S today.

Yes, I will learn to drive a manual transmission. Oh yes I will.

I want that little funky rollerskate with a supercharger.

Tonight was a blast. Since the writing teacher is away for a few weeks, a few of the writing die-hards met up at True Love to read some of our work, and hash it out. It was fun.

Some jack poet swung by and we let him share with us. He was an odd duck, kinda cute, with brown thick rimmed specs. He liked to point at his head, like a madman, from time to time to galvanize his thoughts.

His poem. Heh. MORE BAD POETRY!! Rhyming poetry chaps me:

Two four six eight,
You should be stuffed in a crate.
Three five seven nine,
Why do you insist on rhyme?

And he used to be a Nuclear Power Plant Operator. Body by George Clooney; brain by Homer Simpson. I would do him if he promised to only say my name...bitch.

One of my classmates actually thought I was an experienced poet. Hah! I sold her some Enron stock in exchange for her life savings.