baby, can i drive yr car?

britney spears is basically a lowrent striptease. i know—that's stating obvious, the. what if every sentence i move words around in? would that you confuse? just watched a video of her live performance and it's like watching me in karaoke, except i don't writhe live.

reminds me of a bachelor party i went to where a male stripper was hired (this was yrs ago, women who were not good friends of mine; how's that disclaimer?) and the dude was this muscle beach type who kept his white gym socks on his feet while he did a lap dance in black bikini underwear pour l'homme. the socks just about killed me.

had other things to say: oh. yes. i drove a benz on friday. now that is a nice ride. which means i saw my waiter friend again for a drink, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. it was mega-fun. he's sweet and cute. and i asked him how a waiter comes to own a fancy car and he had a good answer and then we joked that he is a drug dealer! hah! that's funny right!?! he didn't make any arms dealer jokes, though, so make of that what you will.

and i felt a wee guilty b/c am i wasting my time? am just being kind? mean what you say say what you mean. i could make a whole blog of song lyrics. i think i have.

am i distracting myself from meeting quote more suitable mates unquote when i span time with him and like hims. but i have democratic inclinations! should i discount someone for the reason that they're basically not like me? that ain't right and yet and yet and—

i like the way he says: viskey.

then i saw the seagull on saturday. that was good. getting me in mind of russia and tragedy and provinces and trigorian. ah trigorian! for thee, i swoon in spite of your hackdom.