so we hit the 3,000 mark last nite. apparently, it was my good buddy (a mouth full of) paul who did the honors. let us join hands and sing "we are the world" in mirth.

yea, um, i've had a pretty severe case of diarreah, er, i mean writers block as of late. i can't write on this thing, i can't write in my notebook, i'm havin trouble signing delivery confirmations for packages, it's been odd. even odder than that is nothing in the slightest bit odd, besides the oddness we just talked about, has happened to me lately. i'm just one big electro-magnet for the derelicts and eccentrics of the world but somehow i flipped the "off" switch and shit's getting boring. i found myself walking around downtown last night just waiting for something stupid to happen. a crazy homeless guy to chastise me...anything. oh wait, i suppose there was one kind of interesting thing. it's not very humorous tho...

so yesterday i went to deliver this package to this woman, right? of course i'm right. so anyway, once i arrived at her residence, i unknowingly stumbled into the greatest breakthrough mankind has achieved next to the hotpocket. oh yes, this woman is in posession of a time machine. i kid you not. the time machine is cleverly shaped like her front door and to look at it, you wouldn't think it was a marvel of modern technology. until you walk through it, that is. you see, by simply stepping through this door shaped time machine, you are instantly transported back to 1974. i could tell because her carpet was a dark orange shag and all her couches were leopard print. there were magazines from this time period scattered about the floor amongst discarded bottles of vodka and what appeared to be a bong next to the lime green recliner. it was ten in the morning and she was drunk as a skunk that drank all the drinks of the skunks who weren't drunk due to the drinking of their drinks by the drunk skunk in addition to his own drank drinks. she was undressing me with her eyes and knocking things off the table she was attempting to write on. after she signed the documents i had came there for, she thought perhaps she should tip me. she pulled a five from between her withered breasts whose clevage was exposed by her low cut purple velvet one-piece jump suit. i took it and later bought some french onion sun chips to ease my stomach which was still a little queasy from the novel oddity of time travel.

rock the parcel.

uh huh.

word.