Nightlife

I really need to get out more.


The author enjoys the company of friends at The Bike Stop in Philadelphia.

I think I'll go to Santa Saturday this weekend. How bad could it be?

On Second Thought

I drive a large white convertible, which I love-love-love, and plan to be burried in; or cremated with on a pyre, like a Viking lord and his long boat; or at very least parked way out back with a tarp over us, where we would slowly rust and decompose, ultimately returning to the earth as I hear is the practice with some Hindoo Motoring sects. The far more practical Father Tony is getting one of these. His final arangement dictates for himself and the car are unknown to me.

Regardless, I want one of 'em too. A white one. No, a red one.
Whatever.

But that doesn't mean I could live for very long without one of these, too:



I think I need to develop additional income sources.

Productivity

12:26 PM, Monday.

I have not done any work at all - save make a pot of coffee.
Which isn't actually working though, is it?