the taj mahal of fake fifties diners.

Christmas was lovely, except for the giant headcold, that I thought was strep, that is not strep because strep doesn't cause gluey grey mucus to fall out my nose at totally inappropriate times. This has made work more interesting.

If you're still reading, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Well, I gotta go run and check in on my car at the shop, and then head back up to the city.

I saw allan, sean, and scott the other night, a good time was had by all, though I was nearly too sick to do anything, and the next morning I felt like I was going to die.

God, I need to hang with Alethea soon.