Dec. 6th, 2002

wickedflea: (Default)
Man, I didn't want to crawl out of bed this morning. I stayed home yesterday (felt cruddy), so at least I didn't have to face the snow both days. It's actually kind of nice as long as you don't have to drive in it.

I never got a response from that woman about the Stevie Nicks artwork.

I need to finish watching Ghost Dog tonight.

I know a guy named Otto. Do you know a guy named Otto?
wickedflea: (Default)
Speaking of Ghost Dog, I always forget to mention on here that director Jim Jarmusch looks a lot like my stepbrother Fool. I thought I was going to DIE the first time I saw Sling Blade and saw Jarmusch working at the burger joint, because he not only looks like him, his mannerisms are exactly the same. "Um . . . we have . . . French fries. . . ." These pictures aren't the best to show the resemblance, but they're all I've got:

Jarmusch:


Fool circa 1998, with the Perverted Midget:


Fool circa 2002, after numerous arrests and jail stints. I don't know what happened to the Perverted Midget.
wickedflea: (Default)
I keep getting people cold busted today. I'm not TRYING to, but here's the deal: if you tell an untruth, and I, not knowing the vile depths of your dishonesty, say something to someone else that results in your being found out, then it's not really my fault, is it? There was no way for me to know that I was relaying misinformation. That's what happens when bodies start slappin', doin' the wild thing.

Er, rather, that's what happens when people entrust me with sensitive information. Stupid typos.

I hope nobody cuts me over any of this. I would hate to get sliced on a damn Friday.

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