grit

The coffee maker must have a stomach virus, for the past two mornings all of the grounds have been caked on top of the coffee pot, some spilling up over the sides of the filter. Seriously like a dog with dysentery, shit everywhere. That would explain my absence from the blog for two days, bad coffee, no focus.
Anna has her little play tonite. "101 Dalmations", or as I've been accustomed to calling it, "101 Flagellations" or "F***ing Play Practice" or "This Woman Needs to get Laid Now" or, my personal favorite, "Who the F*** Wrote this F***ing Play Anyway".
So that should be fun. And then I will host a party and dance around naked in my yard 'cause the thing is over.
In other news, surprise, surprise, I am still broke. It's nice now, because my status as someone "below the line" has been so solidified that I don't have to answer embarrassing questions about my life and how we eat beans and rice and pasta ALL THE TIME and how Masshealth keeps switching the plan, etc. Most people know, they get it, they know why I pay for my coffee in quarters....
I'm too old and mean to be a hooker (besides, I'm a writer, it's the same thing).
For dinner, vodka tonics, cupcakes, some asparagus and a vitamin.