ROBOT JOURNAL WRITTEN BY "THE LETTERS FROM FATHER" FATHER (BUT REALLY JUST ALL IN UPPERCASE) AS TOLD BY BING CROSBY ON THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS DAY 2002
HELLO! YESTERDAY AT WORK WE WENT OUT FOR A CELEBRATION LUNCH TO CELEBRATE MY GETTING A JOB AT THIS PLACE. WE WENT TO THE STINKY CHEESE PLACE - LET ME SAY THAT THE FIRST 5 MINUTES WERE HARD TO DEAL WITH BECAUSE IT STINKS. THE DAMN CHEESE STINKS. LIKE MY BROTHER'S FEET.
I HAD A NICE LUNCH BUT EVERYONE ELSE'S DISHES WERE MUCH BETTER. INSTEAD OF RISOTTO I SHOULD HAVE HAD THE SKATE - THAT WAS AMAZING. RISOTTO. WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING. YOU MOTHER IS DOING WELL AND WANTS ME TO PAINT THE GARAGE DOOR.
I AM ENJOYING MY I-POD. IF YOU GET A CHANCE, BUY ONE. OR STEAL ONE, BUT NOT FROM A PERSON - FROM A STORE. GREAT FUN THEY ARE.
THE HOLIDAY SEASON IS UPON ME (AS I SUSPECT IT IS ON SOME OF YOU) AND I AM FINDING MY CALENDAR FILLING UP WAY TOO FAST WITH THINGS TO DO. I KEEP THINKING LIKE A MONTH AGO I WOULD GO DAYS WITH OUT HAVING TO GO TO SOME EVENT OR PARTY OR WHATNOT... BUT NOW IT'S LIKE HOLIDAY PARTIES AND FILM OPENINGS AND TRIPS OUT OF TOWN AND THE ROBOT IS SUFFERING. WHERE WERE THESE PEOPLE IN OCTOBER WHEN I HAD NOTHING TO DO.
HERE AT WORK I FINALLY GOT MY LAPTOP. TODAY I GET MY "SPACE" WHICH IS REALLY A CUBE. BUT A NICE SIZED CUBE. BUT A CUBE STILL. CUBE.
I AM HEPPED ON CAFFEINE RIGHT NOW. MY ALL CAPS WRITING REMINDS ME OF KRISTEN MORE THAN "FATHER". (DIDN'T SHE WRITE IN CAPS A LOT? I SHOULD CHECK THAT FACT BEFORE I WRITE IT DOWN. OOPS. TOO LATE.) SHE INVITED US TO COME DOWN FOR NUDE YEARS. OF COURSE, I MEAN A PERSON "NAMED" KRISTEN POSTED THAT ON OUR GUESTBOOK, SO WHO KNOWS. SOMEHOW I AM NOT SURE I WOULD EVER MAKE TRAVEL PLANS BASED ON SOMETHING ON THE GUESTBOOK.
"YOUR SITE ROCKS - COME STAY AT MY HOUSE!" - KoRNfan69
YOU KNOW. I REALLY LIKE CHRISTMAS. IT'S SUCH A CUTE TIME OF YEAR. I DON'T LIKE THE COMMERCIAL ASPECT OF IT (UNLESS THE COMMERCIAL ASPECT OF IT INVOLVES ME GETTING A CHOCLATE SANTA AND A SWEATER). SOME OF MY FAVORITE MEMORIES WHEN I WAS A PUP WAS HANGING OUT IN MY PARENT'S LIVING ROOM IN THE DARK WITH JUST THE TREE'S LIGHTS ON. IN PAJAMAS AND MAYBE A CUP OF HOT RUSSIAN TEA. THE SMELL. THE WARMTH. THE QUIET (THAT WAS UNTIL MY BROTHER WOULD RUN IN THE LIVING ROOM, PUNCH MY ARM AND SAY, "HEY FAG").
I LIKE DEAD TREES DRAGGED INDOORS AND COVERED WITH ELECTRIC LIGHTS. I LIKE IT I DO
