ingles? no hablar? haha.... unless..? Premium only.

>tfw I'm stuck in limbo waiting for a call from that local credit union about a motorcycle loan because I wasn't specific about the time I do it to myself, really. It's ok, I got time to kill. Food can wait.

does this outfit make me look phat?

I think it's high time to fianchetto out of my ghetto and ride my widowmaker.

Of course the one about food is the one I immediately clock a PB on. I'm usually terrible at this game, but if it relates to food, boy am I quick.

I've never come across a toilet I can't unclog. Or a sink for thar matter. I was raised by a maintenance man. It covers household matters. I never even called a plumber before. Like calling tech support when I'm an engineer, it's redundant.

ok, enough procrastination, let me slip into the shower, clean my face, brush my teeth, all that jazz. I feel rather dirty just laying here marinating in my own thoughts for so long.

On a long enough timeline, I eventually crawl out of bed and do something productive. Or I stay and produce posts. Lots of posts.

I woke up thinking about a philly roll and baumkuchen. Must be hungry.

chia seeds are so interesting to me. I knew them from putting them on terracotta and watching it grow an afro. As an adult, I'm just dumping it in my blender for fiber support. Horticulture to bacteria culture, reap what you sow, unless you eat seed like a bird, T. Hirundo rustica.

as someone who cooks, it slips my mind what it costs for others who don't. I didn't forget, you get used to your own expectations.

grit my teeth? at least give me something to bite down on before you try to clock me. good luck, never happened before. I would like to see it happen myself. I hear it'll ring some bells. I've only been flashed. Granite chin, not of glass.

I'm making it a point to write my bare thoughts rather than polish them. I like the idea of real time creation even with the stagnation. Since the only cost is my time, then the return will be based on my interest. Digital cliffnotes of obsessive comprehension, seeking to cure what's deep inside. Scribing the interlude of my inner machinations

she wore her words like a négligée, beautifully adroned, draped over delicately. just enough to pull your eye, but not enough to give away the surprise. a light trace that lingers, keeping you tethered. a silken voice, sweet like ambrosia, leaving you sick, too strong for you.