Don’t it always seem to go that we don’t know what we got till it’s gone?
My body has adjusted itself to the crazy pills. No more headaches, no more dizzy spells, and no more seeking out arousing situations to make sure I still have a large libido. Well, large in comparison to some people. (Not Tony, of course. He gets turned on when I sneeze.) All that’s left for me to do now is look for signs that I’m no longer crazy. And drink.
So, as my life has leveled out a bit, Tony’s has exploded with opportunity. He recently graduated from the Handsome Boy Modeling School, some $60 course he took to learn about his own beauty and how to flaunt it. And to get laid. He claims they taught him the intricacies of etiquette and how to treat the ladies. But all I see him do is have lots of “the sex.” Or buy shoes.
As he explains, “It’s like taking a car, adding little things. An exhaust pipe, to make it a little quicker. Maybe work on the cam. It’s a nice vehicle, but you want to take it to the next level. That’s what they do at the Handsome Boy Modeling School.”
Oh well. I guess I’m mostly jealous. He has such a fabulous life, and I’m striving for ordinary. My few moments of daily bliss are limited to a cup of coffee and getting the apex of my hair to stand just right. If only Tony hadn’t stolen my last $60 dollars…
Me and Mr. Jones 
Hello! Hello! Hello!I still exist. I was hiding under a rock. A ruin. A leaf. My hair has no apex; I get lost in its numerous whorls.This morning we caught another mouse in the Have-a-Heart trap. When I took it outside, it was raining, and the mouse didn’t want to leave the little cage, and all the little poops he’d made in it.Maybe, of course, He was a She.
haven’t herd from u in a minute. hope those happy pills didn’t go and mae u sad
not sad, just distracted. but i’m back. thanks for your patience.
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