your hands never touch the mouse (but your heart does)

and maybe I've decided my ban on livejournal, contractions, and adverbs really was a dumb idea all along. People deserve to know that earlier this summer my apartment was invaded by a squirrel (named Floyd by my mother) not once but twice for the pursuit of pumpkin flavored granola, and that the same granola has now brought a mouse to my hostel sized kitchen. My vegetarianism is going worse and worse. How was I supposed to know chorizo was spanish for spicy sausage? The waiter brought the wrong burritos another time, but I must confess the chicken tasted better than the vegan taco meat. I think I spend too much time at Pizza Lucé, and time is money, especially when you drink several mimosas for brunch. Maybe I want champagne dreams and caviar wishes. I only write in livejournal when things are going bad. I have a large-sized headache. You may call me zipper arms, and I shall call you Nancy,