24, Mrs. Mayou, Possessed Shit Box and No Ciggy In A While

I just McDonalded (new word) again to get another Puss In Boots glass. No, I don’t NEED it, but I WANT it so I don’t have to go home and wash dishes. You have to admit he is so damn cute.

24 Season Finale tonite. 2 hour event and then I am done with TV until September.

I hate it when people try to suppress my free spirit. 'Why or why does the caged bird sing?' I'll tell you why. Because he is being a prick and I am singing to keep from crying out of rage, Maya Angelou, thank you very much.

I tell you, I feel like I have been writing about my hospital pitfalls for a while now. It has been almost 2 weeks since my release and I still feel floaty, I still sound like Demi Moore and I feel 'not right'. I do feel better, but just not normal. Or maybe I feel normal now and I never felt normal before. Or maybe, just maybe, I was normal all along and nobody else is. All I know is I have lost time.

Speaking of losing time, it was 2:30 am and I wanted a really good cup of coffee. Of course I thought it was 9:30 pm the night before. So, I made the last of the Trader Joe's Moka Java and sat on the couch to wallow in my splendor. About the time I was about to take the first sip, I heard what sounded like a demon spatting out my name. I get so creeped out when I hear my name being whispered or said in an unnatural way. I jumped up and spilled the coffee and then the cup fell and shattered on the ground. I screamed, grabbed a butcher knife and decided to confront my fears, knock them down and stab them on the way to the back door. I then realized my demon was just Elwood in the shit box being annoyed at Isis for not letting him have a little peace. No one was stabbed. I didn’t get to sleep until 7:00 am.

I have not smoked in a long time. Would somebody PLEASE just give me a fucking cookie?