It's sunday night and I have so much work to do but I'm doing the procrastination thang yet again. Yesterday was Mamoser's birthday so we went to Luvafair for some drinking and dancing. It was pretty fun but I just wish God hadn't overlooked me when he was handing out rhythm. I look so ridiculous on the dance floor but eh well. As usual, I was the only one who didn't get any boy attention. That's funny because I thought that fatasses/nastyfaces are generally found to be aesthetically pleasing. Magcalas, I know that if you're reading this, you are rolling your eyes right now. Shout out and props to Mamoser b/c she understands my self-loathing thing and big fear of ending up a lonely 75 year old spinster surrounded by my 25 precious precious cats. Of course, they'll each be named after a guy although all 25 won't even come close to filling my void of loneliness. Then when I die, and my cats die, my grave plot will be surrounded by little markers with names like Nick, Brian, Kevin, Howie, AJ and PimpDaddy. My tombstone will probably read something like "Here lies Purina's best customer. She died a lonely pathetic senile old woman. May she and her cats live in feline companion bliss in heaven b/c face it, even in heaven there's not even a soul so saintly that could bear coupling up with her." On a happier note...o wait, I just realized there isn't one.