As you're lying there drifting off to sleep

I'm going to write about Karl. Because he says I probably don't want him to read my blog because of all the nasty stuff I've said about him in the past. I plan to prove him right.

I don't like the thought that boys weight less than me. So, according to Karl, it turns out that we both weigh nothing. Now I can't be all girly and whimper about my thighs being too fat...

We walked past these gangsta cars playing crap....actually it was kind of catchy crap. They were parked right outside the doors of Tim Horton’s. Yeah you guys rock. Way to hang out in a parking lot and blast your fab music in front of trailor-trash-coffee-ville. So we walked into Tim's and I was immediately blinded by the florescent lights and the harsh decor bits of the coffee shop.

"Oh god it’s the same girl who served us last time,” I whispered to Karl. "It's like we're regulars here. This is embarrassing."

He gave me an agreeing nod and we walked 1/4 confidently and 3/4 sheepishly to the front and ordered our stuff.

----
Last time I ordered two bottles of spring water and some peppermint tea.

"Spring water? Do we serve that?" the server said and looked at the menu above her head. "Oh yeah, I guess we do. No one has called it spring water before."

After I felt snobby for ordering spring water and after she told me her theory about boyfriends and how they should pay for everything - resulting in lower crime rates and an overall better world - we left.
----

We both ordered and then walked back to his car and he played the music that I said, over the phone, sounded like a dying cat, but only over the phone - it sounded good in person. After that I marked the fogged up windows with my hands and feet and talked about the weather.

I was walking with the ghost

This is the top of a picture I took. The other half is of some friends sitting on a couch at Jamie's house

This is something I wrote a long time ago:

I drained my thoughts through the floor
The neighbours watched below
Seeing soggy half baked memories
Sink around their toes

Finally my head gleaming clean
Lighter too with the new start of things
I stood floating above my drained dreams
Empty and forgotten

The damp hard wood floor against my lips
Looking down through the cracks to see what I’d missed
The mother had already forgotten
The child cried in the mist.

I tend to run out of inspiration nearing the ends of them. "The child cried in the mist" - What the hell is that all about. It's a fake rhyme with "missed" that's what it is.

There are men in my house painting the ceilings. Stacy is one of them and the other is Dan. They're generally nice. I feel like I should offer them tea and cookies or something. But then I remember that I'M NOT an old lady with cookies to spare. They have draped plastic sheets from the top of the walls down to the floor in the kitchen. So the cupboards and countertop are hidden. I had to crawl on top of the counter and shuffle around in search of the fruit near the sink while at the same time hoping Stacy wouldn't walk in and say "what the fuck?!" At any rate the story ends happily because I got my pare and Stacey was no where to be seen.

I can't say that I'll love you forever

I want a taco

RIGHT. NOW.