The Last Word

All sweater coats are princess coats. Not all princess coats are sweater coats.

I just made the mistake of looking at this site in Netscape 4.7...oh my God! That version truly is the devil, fscking with all my tables and seeming to have an especially hard time with the blockquote tag. I suppose I don't really care, although perhaps that's why I get very few pageviews from Netscape. Wonder what NS6 looks like...

Woke up one minute before my alarm went off this morning (I rule) out of a really weird dream in which some asshole had stolen cookies sent to me by my mom. I kicked his ass, then woke up. Weird.

Watched Raw last night and couldn't stop (still can't stop) laughing at the Assblasters' promo with Kane. It was wrong and unintentionally funny on so many levels.

I am not now, nor will I ever be, a fan of poetry. Taken in moderation, I don't really have a problem with it; most good music is poetry. But analyzing a poem for an entire weekend, writing a paper on it that is only half as long as it should be and having nothing more to say is...frustrating, to say the least. Emily Dickinson can bite my ass.

January 22, 2002 - 08:37 AM