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[Wednesday, 02/04/09] |
Scrawled in black marker, on a shop window down the street:
The guy who works here is a fukin BABE!!!! Call me (insert number of hysterical female)
I've always wanted to do that. Not give my number to a stranger who'll label me a raging erotomaniac and promptly switch occupation, but to wantonly, uninhibitedly inform someone of their exquisite beauty. Even better if they have a lowly job.
Anyway, I bought myself a chicken, sundried tomato, pesto and rocket sandwich for lunch at 1 pm, and wondered whether I ought to refrigerate it. Then I remembered the weather.
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