Ah, Sundays at Vivace. I consider Vivace an extention to the Landyacht, albeit four miles away. I pick up eight different wireless connections. Everyone here is young, beautiful, and hip. As long as I don't see my reflection in the window, so am I. And I could walk to the gym later. Not feeling it right now. But I'm running out of stuff to look at and songs to download. And the baristas keep looking over here (maybe cos I'm so cool with my lime green ibook?) Guess I'll have to buy another macchiato if I wanna stay. If they keep playing the soundtrack to "Grease", then fuck it I'll leave already. But before I leave I'm gonna check swing that bitch who's hogging the corner plug. Who needs two laptops at a coffee shop, seriously!?
The problem with perfect days (see previous post) is that the next few days seem dull. You'd think I'd have a glow to bask in but I'm just bored. Bored, bitchy, and tired. This is why football should go year round. If I had a football game to go watch I'd be hap hap happy. Maybe I'll go home and put on my Peyton jersey and pretend.
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