I WANT TO GET DOWN, GET DOWN, GET DOWN TONIGHT.

This morning I woke up around eight, still dreaming about whatever nonsensical thing I had on my mind, that I would've continued to dream about had my mother not woken me up with "I need you to do me a few errands." Now that she's a working girl, I do her errands, like mailing stuff, buying stuff, and picking up the kids. I just realized that I am her personal assistant, or a glorified soccer mom. At least I don't truck around in a minivan.
My goodness did it pour this afternoon on my way to Oberlin. It was nice and sunny until I decided to drive over there to pick up dinner and some extra bday gifts for my sister. And then all hail broke loose (haha, get it? hell...hail...okay), and I had to dash to the stores under the safety of my corduroy jacket, which, as you might guess, isn't much.
Then on the way home I had the biggest urge to watch Bottle Rocket. Instead, I saw Sabrina (the original one with Audrey Hepburn) and Dude, Where's my Car. I think Ashton Kutcher perfectly exemplifies the idea of 'eye candy'. He can't act for shit, but damn does he look good...besides, I didn't exactly watch Dude... for its cinematography and screenplay, knowmsayin?
Tonight I did some mad sketching. I tried to draw Paul Weller (albeit a much younger Paul, but whatever) and ended up more James Spader-ish. Now the perfect ending to this beeyootiful day would be to throw on something glamourous, knock back a few, and go dancing cheek-to-cheek with some marvelous stranger...
... but I guess I'll only be doing that in my dreams. Ta.