5/21/05
I was very bad and played legitimate hooky from work on Friday. Work's been slow the past couple of days and since my immediate manager wasn't in, I asked to go home at ten a.m. from the boss's daughter.

During my Friday morning commute I saw a squirrel flopping around the middle of the road. Traffic was heavy on Wahsatch and I could only do one thing, stop and get out to see about helping the poor creature. Everyone in the right hand lane kept going completely unaware of the little squirrel. By the time I walked around the front of my car, the squirrel was gone. When I turned to get back inside, the squirrel was scampering across the grassy median up one of the little pine trees.
I had no reason to be upset or angry, the squirrel was fine plus the people behind me weren't leaning on their horns even though I was prepared for anything.

Heck, I think the guy in the white car behind mine was smiling that I got out to check on the critter.

Finally, I've had this bruise on my left forearm since the beginning of the week. It's disturbing and I hope it's just a bruise. My anxiety and hypochondria has made me feel phantom pains, clots grinding away at the inside of my veins and tenderness when there wasn't any tenderness. I do hope it's just from raddidge pounding my arm in her sleep.

In Yer Dreams
My father explained to me that my situation was dire in nature. With all gravity and compassion, he told me that he had to sever the tendons in my right hand, rendering it useless, in preparation of amputation. His scissors left no mark on my skun but my hand was a useless collection of bones and sagging muscles. I couldn't bring myself to look at my right arm because the situation was too painful to bear.

Brian was waiting for me upstairs. There was a mystery afoot where a black guy had committed a crime and it was up to us to bring him to justice. We only knew him as Mohammed and he eluded our search for quite some time. My bright idea was to attend a nearby basketball game. The NBA had been cracking down on players using pseudonyms and demanded that the players use their real names on the back of the shirts. No gangster handles, no nicknames, no criminal aliases and absolutely no wacky name changes because of a religious conversion. Our quarry presented himself on the court beginning the chase.

I lost the dream as we lost sight of the perpetrator. As I faded out, I kept cursing everyone calling them pedophiles. The last thing I remember was Brian chiding me for using such a strong epithet since hardly anyone is a pedophile.

a simple question
Is there anyone in Colorado Springs or Colorado who does not have tattoos?
thank goodness i'm not in kansas
Ninety degrees at five p.m. on Friday and I'm sure it's ten times worse in Kansas. Thank goodness for the civil weather which is maintained by the front range.
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