Short Stream of Consciousness.
I wonder how those shoes work? Yeah, strap there, strap connects to the other strap. . . uh, oh, she thinks I’m looking at her legs. Might as well indulge her.
That was a nasty look.
Wonder how she’d look naked? Probably pretty good, but I’ll wager there’re ribs sticking out. Eww. Still, tall curvy red-head. . . Much better mental picture.
Shouldn’t have worn these shoes. The hole lets in water. Duck tape?
Mmm. . . Doughnuts. No, something more substantial. Wendy’s.
Why’s she bitching? Shouldn’t have put hair dye in if she’s pissed about it running down her face in the rain.
Kinda cute, but her friend isn’t.
Why is it that a guy can always admit that he’s been an asshole, even when it wasn’t his fault, but a woman can never admit she’s been a bitch, even if it is her fault? G’s screwed. It wasn’t even his fault. It was hers. Ugh. Damn women.
It’s good to get a smile from a cute girl.
No one sends me mail. Waste of money, that PO Box.
Damn, it’s muggy.
I don’t even remember how that Cheeseburger tasted.
Nice. . .
I’m gonna be late back to work.
Elevator to two?!?!? La-dee-frickin’-da. I’m so glad you’re better than me. *sniff**sniff* Damn, and a smoker to boot. Asshole.
Rain? What rain? And will it get me out of being late?
Message on my desk? Who’s Rose Wilson Hill? Wants me to call her tech? Oh, yeah. Forgot I called her. This slave must do his bidding. She’s faculty.
I need a good haircut. Badly. Tongiht, if possible. It’s already raining.
Eris, you teach me well. See you tonight, babe.
