Arg! My wallet is gone! Do you know how pissed off I am? I’m SO pissed at losing my wallet that it hardly bothers me that The Danny wears socks with sandals. *pause* EW! SOCKS WITH SANDALS?! COME ON THE DANNY! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?! EW! When we get married, I’m going to put a stop to this socks with sandals b.s. Not just for myself, but for the sake of our marriage and your self respect. No guy who respects himself, wears socks with sandals unless he’s a fucking patient. I’m sorry I had to yell at The Danny like that, but my wallet is gone and I loved my wallet. I still do. I’m taking my frustration out on the wrong person. But seriously The Danny…socks with sandals is a BIG, FAT, NO-NO in our relationship. The only reason I can accept the socks with the sandals is because you have The Hat, Lauren knows what I’m talking about. THE HAT!
I finished one of my journals last night, which depressed me even more because it’s another end with the same beginning. Only this time I have no wallet and The Danny wears socks with sandals. Yes, I dwell. I sweat the small stuff. But it’s who I am and if it gets annoying, please do tell me. Anyway, so I finished my last Garfield journal which leaves a big void on the journal front. Well it did until I found the leather journal my mom gave me before I moved to The Montreal. It has a little picture frame on the front, so maybe I will put a photo of The Lauren and The Me on the cover, just to give it a bit more pizazz. I’m supposed to start work today, handing out shit to the patrons of the superstore. It’s like free samples from Goodlife. Yeah it’s a bullshit busy work job but money is money and I need it. Especially after the trauma that is losing my wallet. Jesse, you better make that duct tape wallet for me, and write Shasta in big fat block letters (as neatly as you can please) and then put like…clear tape over it so you and I don’t get marker all over our hands when we handle it. Since you’ll be getting the early onset of marker, I reccomend that you do it. Marker is a bitch to wash off. Seriously. Lauren when you wrote in my tattoo during King Kong, that shit didn’t come off me for like two weeks!
OK now I’m just being gay and talking to my blog and The Danny who (hopefully) will never read this shit anyway. If there is ever a comment on this blog from The (real) Danny, I will be forced to hyperventilate and collapse under the extreme embarrassment of the situation. Then I’ll get over it and say: "Dude, don’t make fun of me. You wear socks with sandals." And all will be well again in the world of Trista. OK, I’m going to affix a photo of The Danny to my new journal, on the inside where only I will see it. I really The Danny.
ps. The grandma from Napoleon Dynamite is in the season finale of Season One of CSI:NY. I noticed that last night when I watched it.
ps. I miss my wallet.
ps. I The Lauren