One for the road.

Oh, poo. That's how I feel. "Oh, poo." I'm not really sure if the feeling can be translated into actual verbs and nouns and bullshit.

I feel awful for Marley. His fucking tail is going to be a nub soon. Hopefully he doesn't think his Buffalo trip was a complete disaster. I'll still love him, even sans tail. I hope he doesn't mind being walked through Allentown and the Elmwood village with a giant, boisterous cone around his neck and a dinky, stubby tail awkwardly swaying in the December brisk breeze.

The old shoes I could never fill are coming back to haunt me. None of my emotions can be pinpointed, controlled or organized anymore. Scatterbrained and irrational are suddenly synonyms for "Trisha."

Jealousy.. I despise it, but now I'm overcome by it? I hate that he'll be in town in less than a week. More so I hate that I found it out by looking at all of my friend's facebook accounts. So fucking random. I suppose I'm getting a taste of my own medicine. Deserved? I don't know, maybe. I'll shake this feeling.

Apparently I'm still okay at piano and I like that. I've been youtube-ing "how to" videos and I can't say I'm prolific, but I'm gaining in the area.

In a few days Laura gives birth and I'm indifferent. Yikes.. that's semi-brutal. Maybe I slightly lost interest when she coerced my dog into biting his own tail or fed him swedish fish and he couldn't help but shit everywhere and anywhere. First thing I do is feed her kid a bountiful supply of sour patch kids and make him bite his own feet. Revenge!

I'm slowly and painfully learning that the more potato chips you toss into your private lunch box.. the more opportunity there is to get some really rotten, green chips in the mix. I'm not liking it one bit.

Foster tattooed my wrist and I'm taking out a student loan to finish my fan/half sleeve. I know, I know, I'm clearly the most responsible and level-headed student out there. Must be the reason it's going to take me 7 years to graduate BuffState with a bullshit degree in Fine Arts.