I have one hundred and seventy two new email messages, and I'm not going to check them. You can't make me. Go away.

Sorry. I mean, I'll come online tomorrow. I'll check my email. I'll write a new entry. I'll tell you how work is going and how I'm finally getting paychecks and how I got more rats and stuff.

Not tonight. No. I am tired. I think my feet are going to fall off from standing in platforms all day for nine hours doing retaily things. I need a day off. I'm not going to school tomorrow. You can't make me.

Have a good night.

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� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
Don't steal my shit. I'll send thugs. Oh shut up. I do so have thugs. Quit laughing! Look, just don't steal my stuff, OK?