you oughta be done with yo work right bout now, girlie
but i haven't even started yet. that is me, the infamous procastinator. motivate meeeeeeeeeee, i just wanna get myself out of this bed. got a shitload to do, balls. only thing i can do is just stare hard at the pile of work on my desk till everything goes out of focus and my eyes start to water. i don't feel like doing everything and anything. so what do i do? i daydream but most of the time i stare into space, thinking of nothingness. this body was not built to work in an office, i tell ya. and then i'm listening to my bootlegged strokes 'live' mp3s. i'll be smiling stupidly to myself and my super will looked at me oddly. the best thing about my getting attached to this godforsaken company is the DSL enabled PC. gives me super duper streaming powers. there's bonus as well. i've got a bulliable supervisor who is all things English. this includes his taste in music. the fucker digs the strokes and all those other bands NME is constantly giving blowjobs to. heh heh heh. i remember telling da that the only thing magazines are good for are the pictures you can cut up to make collages/murals/wathaveyous or scan to get it online. other than that forget about getting a decent music reviews from any one of them. anyways i'm a little peeved that people around me are in some sort of a relationship dilemma. not that i wanna be part of a relationship dilemma lar but people who are in this kinda funks are no fun to hang out with. they'll be lamenting and whinning about the hims and hers of their life. you guys should all go jigjig, numsayin'? JIG JIG! kick off your shoes and relax your socks.
i'm always reminded of bob dylan's Maggie's Farm whenever i listen to the strokes In Her Prime song. the lyrics lar that did it.

she's such a tramp he's such a whore, it's packaged so perfect yeah I want more