Perth

I want to go to Perth. I'm going to Perth. I am going to Perth. Strong words. Especially for a 51 year old taxi driver. Somehow, I just don't think I'll have enough time to 'Perth'. Seriously. By the end of next week, it probably wouldn't be showing anymore. That's quite sad, but it's the truth.

I cut myself. Again. No. Before you start thinking I'm some deranged maniac that loves to self-inflict wounds, you're mistaken. I've got a cut across my palm from -- what else -- rocks again. Last week they claimed my toe. Today they claimed my palm. And I didn't even know it until it stung and when the water turned red. Not very pleasant. Not at all.

My MSN nick for the hour is "Some things just shouldn't happen". That's a very broad statement but I'm referring it specifically at you know who. Despite whatever you're saying, I think it's a rebound and rebounds are generally frowned upon. Also, it doesn't help that he's fugly. Fugly fugly, fugly fugly fugly. Please, you're supposed to have better taste. Get your spoon out of the gutter asap. I've said what I felt and I don't care anymore how you're doing. Yes. I don't care. But maybe the other 2 in our group do. But I'm washing my hands off your personal life and will not give anymore comments regarding your choice(s) anymore. So I swear.

I'm a very patient person. Extremely patient in fact. Angelene can attest to that. So for me to say the above means I've had it.

I wish you eternal happiness.