Semper fudge.


It’s Saturday night and I’m laying on my bed, listening to The Velvet Underground on headphones, surfing thru a backlog of Exploding Dog and downloading an .avi of the Jack White Coke Ad.

The room is lit only by a 5 year old Ikea desk lamp made from translucent black plastic and my Powerbook screen. Every so often, a text message from Sarah makes my Sidekick chirp in faux 8-bit harmony. I flip it open, fire off a response and go back to farting around on the internet.

I need to find something substantial to do, before the boredom eats away too much of my brain. I could write a post for Preshrunk, but I’m suffering from some fierce writers block.

Somebody save me, please.


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  1. Ed

    Why you complaining Boog? At least you’ve got a g/f!

  2. I know, Man. I’ve spent so much time with Sarah that I really don’t know what to do with myself on the weekends we’re not together. *shrug*

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