I had a dream I was making out with ‘Desperate Housewives’ star Marcia Cross. Then she stopped it from going further because she had a cold. I knew the day was going to go downhill from there.
I woke up with an allergy headache. Then I inhaled deeply. Ah. There’s nothing to make me sick worse than the smell of someone cleaning the coffee pot out with vinegar. I’m allergic to that stuff when it hits the air. Everyone knows that. I’ve bitched about it since I was a small child. I’ve asked my folks to give me fair warning before they do it … but time after time I wake up and it’s not good.
I’m searching for my allergy drugs. I have a headache. I’m squinting. The computer in my bedroom’s graphics are screwed up again so I’ll probably have to pull the graphic card out of it and reinstall windows. I don’t want to face the day. It’s building. I can tell. I just want to get in a car and escape.
It’s a beautiful day, honestly, the sky is blue, the cops are out and the birds are singing. I await news from my friend Brandi. Brandi went to the ECWA Super Eight tournament last night. It’s an annual pro wrestling event in Delaware where the 8 top up and coming stars of the sport (different every year), come together to crown the best of the best.
It’s usually an epic tournament. People make a big deal about it on the internet because it’s always the best show of the year. So why didn’t I go? Well, I used to. Back when it was a little legendary show. But then … the internet wrestling Journalists discovered it. Every ego on the planet is in that building. I know most of them. I don’t want to be around most of them so I stopped going.
So now I’m awaiting gossip. That’s right. Brandi was supposed to play spy so I can see what egos were bruised, who had a cat fight, and who turned into the divas. Yes, wrestling journalists are 40 year old men who turn into 14 year old girls whenever other journalists are around. This should be good.
On that note, I’m going off to die for a while. Wake me if anything exciting happens.
k9