I found out on sunday that I can make a flawlessly risen souffle. it's good to know.

got a raise at work, and a better one than I thought. I won't be crass with specifics, but it gives my annual income a new first digit. my celebration? skipping my much wanted mickey d's to come home and eat a frozen bagel out of thrift. jeez, I guess if I was a millionaire I'd starve myself to death. like this lady I read about one time? there was this lady, see. and she only ate cold oatmeal because heating it cost money. and her son had to have his leg amputated because she wouldn't pay for his operation. she died a millionaire. yep, me and that lady. two peas in a pod.

23 days until turning 23. 23's a dumb age, certainly one of the more boring prime numbers. I still haven't decided if I'm going through with it. I might just refuse.

if my hair gets much longer I'm afraid it's going to go into a marlo thomas flip. tomorrow shall be the day of cutting.

and tonight shall be the orgy. okay, okay, identical-triplet-runway-models-from-somewhere-intriguing-like-cyprus, don't rip the sheets, I'm coming.