so i'm sittin there, a bowl of cherries balanced on my stomach, and a cigar hanging out of the corner of my red-stained mouth. not quite an image of a sweet young lady. about three years ago i stole this cigar from my stepdad. i figured one less cancer log wouldn't harm him, just the opposite really. so since i was about twelve i would sit around biting on the corner of this cigar. the end is a little more than nasty now, and i've trimmed it a few times, and it has no sceent left, but this little 3 inch cigar looks so odd sticking out of the corner of my mouth

anyway, as i sat there biting my cigar and watching the third straight hour of programs on Noggin, i realized i honestly did not want to be anywhere else. i did not want to be out fake smiling for people, and forcing laughter after someone told a "joke". i was content watching tv geared towards 12 year olds and biting on this rotting mass of tobacco. friends, who needs 'em?

my next letter is about tiny robots in a train. who wants it?

and i told people to know their boundaries when it came to spandex

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