Today, in Atlantic City, none of your dreams will come true.
2nd thing: Get packed (haven't done any of that yet)
3rd thing: Go out for lunch (working on that as we speak)
4th thing: Get the fuck out of town (later than Corrine was hoping, and will probably be stupendously pissed off).
In the mean time, take a look at the inside of that wild new largest Airbus ever, curtesy of Drudge. Anyone who can afford to fly in that is one cool frood, I'll tell you what. Hopefully someday soon it will be me, with my hot orange luggage (I will be so hip it will be hard at best to see over my pelvis).
Now that the time is here, I'm nervous to leave. I'm so stupid. Haven't eaten, but already have the reflux. I've noticed that brushing my teeth makes my stomach upset. My body is revolting against oral hygiene.
I'm in the market for a new, cheap car. I thought I found one, but the owner hasn't responded to my e-mail yet, so I may not have found much of anything at all (most likely).
Time to dedicate myself to dry hair; getting shit together.
