Sunday, May 07, 2006

Psychadelic Sunday, or Maybe I'm Becoming My Father

Sunday, May 07, 2006
All it took was one phrase.

"Oh. Sorry. This isn't Bowie- this is Mott the Hoople. But it was written by Bowie."

And I'm my Dad.

I think living in the Love Shack is starting to eat away at my brain. Never in my life have I spent almost an entire weekend lounging. Sitting in the sun room. Reading "Catcher in the Rye" (yes, I've never read it, and I think I'm seriously missing the point here, but talk to me when I've finished it.) and watching "So I Married an Axe Murderer".

The scary thing is that I could just stay this way, forever. Maybe Candice has the right idea, and sooner or later I'll ship off to a commune.

4 comments:

L-diggs said...

Oh dear. We all go a little bit mad sometimes, I must admit friend. Though I'm stoked to bust out of here, I just thought I'd post for the world to see that there's no one else I'd rather share a Miss Saigon love nest with than you man. It's been a very happy hannukah indeed.

Meg said...

Hey. There is nothing wrong with the fact that I surround myself with pillows. At least I don't use a sleeping mask.

And yes, those 8 crazy nights were something else...I'll never forget them. At least, I'll never forget what little I can remember.

Meg said...

I want lounging... Mmm, lounging...

Carmabelle said...

8 crazy nights...wasn't that a poorly produced movie effort on the part of one Adam Sandler??
YOu might want to rethink THAT movie reference.