<~>17 Jan 2003

no, i don't think you're a dirty bassshtard. you sheem well-groomed to me <hic!>
'ector! more...olives!
<she falls> <baba helps her up and carries her to the sofa, covers her with an olive wool blanket>
shcared? i'm nbot shcared of nuthin'. (she slurs, but inside, she's saying 'heights! good lord, heights! how the fuck can p&k be so damn excited about that bungee jump? shit you'd have to bind me to get me near the edge, never mind harnessed in) but alound, she just says 'rollercoashtersh!" (even though she loves rollercosters, and is not afraid of them at all, not even the ones where your feet dangle, and you're 90 million stories up, 'cuz that part's over really quickly, and you're swirling and sweeping and pounding and looping and generally defying gravity with the help of a little speed...) "i love...rollercoashtersh!"

myth, schmith. i'll finish tomorrr....zzzz.

<hello, baba? this iz z's unconscious mind speaking. sorry about that. she still can't hold her liquor. yes, that's why she sticks to beer and wine, mostly. yes, i promise, she'll finish your questions tomorrow. no, maybe it'll be sunday. yeah, she is going to DC to march for peace. she never did anything like that before. her hippie friends arn't even going! they said it's too cold to protest war in iraq. oh well. she's a stubborn fuck, she is. no, don't worry, she's not driving 6 hours all alone. hatter's hare is going too. in fact, it was her idea. talk to you soon, schweetheart. xo, z)