not labeled for individual retail sale


infringing upon the rights of others:

Producing ice cream as sweet as the cherry cordial flavor. My throat can't close upon something as sticky as that. If you don't stop doing that, I'm going to keep on buying your products and keep on being dissatisfied, and eventually sue you. Okay? Okay.

So I live in a neighborhood that is really small. I have a window towards the east (the sun blinds my face whenever I wake up). It's not very hard geometry - it looks a little bit like this:

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| pool!! z
Ω! |
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I think my parents are weird about using which exit. They insist that the one underneath the south stairs is the fastest way. I don't really care, and by habit, I usually walk across the gated pool to the owner's garage. If their way is shorter, it's shorter by about 732.4 attometers. Someone should really tell them that speed isn't only affected by distance.


lunes martes miércoles tres. jueves viernes sábado seis.


So now the only thing I have to do is track everyone I liked at the camp down. I knew it was a mistake to leave the email gettings until the last night, but I was busy making a chair tower that some bastard hotel employee took down after Bas couldn't break by repeatedly throwing a soccer ball at it. That kid really does seem a bit retarded.

I feel like I'm going to hell because I didn't say goodbye.


etiquette: not playing bridge base online when a string of people are waiting to check their emails

What did I expect? Intelligence? Everyone here is intelligent. But they're still so asleep, so not... moved. I stay up till six almost every night playing drinking games with vodka and a cranberry mixer. So what? So Joe has slept with at least six women, and Andrew has made a pass at Carrie once, and almost everyone present at the game has masturbated in Slovakia. That's not what I want to know. I want to know if they've ever swallowed so much snow they threw it back up. I want to know if they'd walk in one shoe size too small until their heels bleed - for an economically stranded stranger they've never met to finally receive a job.

Yesterday I chose truth, and my question was very simple: do I fancy any boys here at the camp? The answer was really no. But I said yes, because they wouldn't believe me if I denied. The funny thing was, the only boy who I think is attractive is nameless to me, and I'm not even that attracted to him. If I pass him by I'll remember; otherwise I just look on. Everybody else is dead, or very nice, or elegant. If it weren't for his face, he probably belongs in the dead/nice category. Why is elegant play so undervalued? Why is it only about taking the trick? If you have to scramble to make your contract, you're not a very good player: because you're hiding, dodging, making it - barely. People who make dangerous bids should have the stuff to back it up. I hate seeing "out of breath" thought bubbles above someone's head.

My favorite was six clubs redoubled. Hrefna's face was fucking pale when Karl pulled that ostensibly out of nowhere. Spoilers~they made. He was nervous, but his tempo was right: and they made. Bridge is music at a certain level.

Unsure if I should play waitress and kibitz, write in my novel, or flirt tonight. Maybe all three if I'm supersupersuperproductive. Maybe I'll just sleep.

I'm done. Only you would know what's behind this façade, and you're not even reading this.