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May. 31st, 2003 03:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morrigan716Yesterday I had my first professional massage. I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't what I got. I guess I thought it would be more like a medical procedure. Instead it was a little room with ocean waves and New Age music playing. The scent of incense in the air. It was awesome. Mentally I felt relaxed. Physically I felt like a wrinkly old blanket that got ironed out. I feel like a new woman. I always say that I need a man who likes to give back rubs. But hell, who needs a man to do a shitty job when you can just pay someone to do a great one?
Last night I went to Siscly's house and got drunk. Since Justin left she decided to have a wild party. Mike and Larry were there too. I had lots of Smirnoff Ice and ended up doing something really stupid. I won't say what but if you've a brain you'll figure it out.
Ross came over tonight and brought Alexander the toy he promised him a month ago. He really pissed me off because he expected me to believe that this was the first time in a month he's had the chance to call or come by. But all's good now I guess. Why is it that no matter how shitty he treats me I still manage to forgive him and stay his friend? Sometimes I really hate myself.
There is evidence that I'm raising a cultured child. The other day I was looking at books with Alexander and asked him what number it was. He said, "Number 9, Number 9" in an English accent (like in the Beatles' song "Revolution Number 9"). Then later at Siscly's house he was singing "Rocky Racoon" to Oliver. I am so proud.
Last night I went to Siscly's house and got drunk. Since Justin left she decided to have a wild party. Mike and Larry were there too. I had lots of Smirnoff Ice and ended up doing something really stupid. I won't say what but if you've a brain you'll figure it out.
Ross came over tonight and brought Alexander the toy he promised him a month ago. He really pissed me off because he expected me to believe that this was the first time in a month he's had the chance to call or come by. But all's good now I guess. Why is it that no matter how shitty he treats me I still manage to forgive him and stay his friend? Sometimes I really hate myself.
There is evidence that I'm raising a cultured child. The other day I was looking at books with Alexander and asked him what number it was. He said, "Number 9, Number 9" in an English accent (like in the Beatles' song "Revolution Number 9"). Then later at Siscly's house he was singing "Rocky Racoon" to Oliver. I am so proud.
