Monday

hardboiled.

since moving its been increasingly more difficult to concentrate. I've been writing enough, once a day - somtimes twice. Work is good and i've got a nice place to live. I dont go out much, prefering to stay in. I'm also not much of a bar girl and here in brooklyn there isn't to many places to dance. I dont trust myself to venture out of the neighborhood yet.

I guess brooklyn is a hard place to meet people. Even harder when your an oversized egg girl. Speaking of eggs. This, here being writing to you is the only place where I dont sound like egg salad. I sound like something hard boiled, perhaps even fried. I reached this conclusion when I was 13, the outcome was an inevitable egg girl.

Being an egg girl has made blind dates a bit difficult.

Trying to put this nicely that, Oh when you meet me, dont be surprised that I suddenly remind you of scrambled eggs. Its makes relationships hard, and lets not even get into sex.

Speaking of which, whens the last time you slept with an egg?

If I had 72 Hours Left..

What would I do? How would I spend it? I’d fly back to New York and ask my family for something simple: let’s celebrate Christmas together. ...