getting over it

I'm eating "chilli" chips and finding them immensely unsatisfying. This, to some of you at least, might be rather ironic considering my screen-name when I used to post some of my writing. At least, at 12:08 am, after working so much today that i'm imagining the bones in my legs are resembling chalk-dust, it seems ironic to me. For 2 hours tonight, I had the sale-of-the-century theme song in my head because the host of the show (the aussie version) was at my work. I told him it was his fault that it was in my head, and he suggested he get me his therapists number. Great, even B-grade aussie celebs think i'm a few crayons short of a kids drawing. BUT, in other news, this coming weekend i'm taking the first step to becoming more of who i want to be. Perhaps I should have told Glenn Ridge that i'm becoming a therapist of sorts, so i'm perfectly fine with my own number - thankyou.

P.S - i hate southern 80. guys smelling like skunks, thinking they look like hunks, while really looking like drunks in swimming trunks that expose their chunks. too much rhyming for one night, i'm off to bed. night.