Organic peg leg
My sister and Jon are off to Vegas today for a wedding, which I presume is not theirs. I heard they have so many sluts in Vegas, ya don't know where to begin.

Second Cup's espresso machine is out of order, forcing me to drink regular coffee. I got a blend called San Agustin, it has a nice aroma -- hints of oatmeal, a whiff of wild-berries, a splash of (liquefied) banana peel and a whisper of hazelnut. I suspect there's a bit more caffeine in this large coffee than my regular triple espresso, but the absorption is so dreadfully slow. "... I just wanna screeeee-ee-yeem. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME-EE-EE!?"

I noticed something new this morning: the protective brace strapped to my right leg is binding with my skin. Synthetic fiber strands are entangled with my leg hair. I tried to clean some of the gunk in the shower, but I eventually gave up. If it gets out of control, I'll shave me pegs. I'm worried that I will find it impossible to remove my braces, someday. Like they'll meld with my flesh to spawn invulnerable limbs that refuse to bend.

Maybe I just drink too much coffee, and the stimulants are perturbing my brain.

The demo we've been working on is getting shown to the clientele today. Here's hoping everything goes according to plan. And, Gawd-willing, I will not have to do any more HTML mock-ups ever again...

PS: The garbage sitting on the balcony stinks to the point where I can't leave the door open without the foul stench of death overwhelming my abode. Seems like the waste disposal people aren't gonna come upstairs to retrieve it, so hopefully I'll gather the willpower to lug it downstairs myself tonight. Should the bin be full, I'm leaving the bags on the pavement, despite my property manager's insistence that all garbage be disposed properly.