ode to in touch

in place of a more vulgar post that i had planned, after a marked outcry by my compatriate ("liz, that's gross!"), all i have today is a salute to in touch magazine:



it was really fucking hot today. the trauma (=sweat)
my brain is not at its peak, but hopefully this godforsaken heat is nearing its twilight.


in the meantime i will pretend to pick up small insects off the ground and grunt to express feelings of malcontent. i will fax a daily performance evaluation saying nothing crude. alex will say there are no new problems with her partner and rate my performance as VERY GOOD.