yesterday morning the mammal heard me playing my guitar, and when i came out of my room he replied, "boy that sounds good [church of al]...i am getting a wah-wah pedal from the guy i am taking lessons from, so between the two of us this will soon be the rocking-ist apartment on the lower east side"...i reply quietly, "much to the chagrin of our neighbours"...which he hardly hears because he has already continued, "we will both be getting more pussy than we know what to do with"...he was also enthused about me having some of his organic yoghurt, and quite happy that the residents on food stamps can go to the organic market and eat healthy..."better then government cheese," i responded...

tonite at karoke he will be performing more 'sean paul'...your correspondent is happy to announce that until i started living with the mammal i had no idea who 'sean paul' actually was...i mentioned, "[mammal] you don't want to be doing 'sean paul' songs every week or you might get typecast" (secretly hoping of course that i would no longer have to suffer s.p.'s stylings on maximum volume)...the mammal replied, "oh i've been doing him every week to a great reception, i figure i will exhaust the catalog and then move onto someone else"..."oh well," i said beaten, "i guess it is going better then 'suicide blonde' did"...to which he quickly responded, "who told you about that!"..."you did," i replied, "what do you think, the word around town is that [mammal] bombed 'suicide blonde'?"..."yeah, i don't want it to get back to [c-town], [his hometown]" he said jokingly...i responded, "hey they are all talking about it at [f's], [a horrible bar in his hometown]"