April 29th, 2003

Lynn-Lady

Yeah, I'm ill

The doctor doesn't know what I've got, but says it will either go away on its own or blow up into something more recognizable in the next couple of days.

I wish I wasn't so spaced-out right now. I can hardly think straight.

I also wish Warren would listen when I say, "No, I really don't want to watch Matt Lauer's interview with Madonna." Instead, he comes in five minutes later expecting me to have it on my TV. UGH.

The last thing I want to do is watch someone my age who has achieved everything she's wanted to achieve (and much of what I've dreamed of achieving) in the entertainment field than I can ever hope to achieve when I'm sick in bed.
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