Aging gracelessly while boring you just a little bit along the way and you're so welcome.

AARP is at it again.  This time, they're offering me a day bag.  I'm assuming it's a bag I'm supposed to pack with crap because they think I'm retired and that I'm going to go grocery shopping @ 10am.  Or that I'm going to go out to lunch by 11am.  Its something I can drape over my lap while I sit in Barnes and Noble and read entire books in their chairs without purchasing because I'm retired and have nothing going on.  One thing I know for sure: they do expect this bitch to be loaded with butterscotch candies.

 Or is it a day surgery bag?  I realized the other day that there's something worse than turning 40 and that's turning 41.  Let's see how that goes.

I like how this bag is meant to be my companion.  I wonder if it can carry a good conversation?  I mean, would my new bag and I have anything in common?  What's its sign?  It wants to live with me; this is all happening too fast. 

I have a friend who's visiting me.  I made him a Boston Cream Pie.  It's the first time I've made one.  I fucked up and didn't use cake flour, so the cake part didn't rise and was kind of dry, too.  It was okay though.  Serviceable.

It wasn't terrible.  I mean, it's nothing you'd want to pay for.  It would be like if you had a semi-lucid, slightly crazy friend, you might be in the mood for this. 

The snake is going to wrap around her neck and do something with her boob.  I still want her to have rainbow hair, but I'm not sure how to make this happen.

Sometimes you get the wrong soap in life, but you have to at least be happy you're clean.  This is an awkward shout out to my sister.  She really liked the soap @ my house and bought some, but got the wrong scent.  So I went to my friend's house and he had the correct one.  So he and I were laughing and he said to take a photo and send it to her.  My message is that even with the wrong soap, it's still soap and life is still good, you filthy beast.