Lush Modes

"Our bodies break down. Sometimes when we're ninety, sometimes before we're even born. But it always happens. And there's never any dignity in it."-- Hugh Laurie in his pilot episode

But for my printer, which I am vainly trying to plug in now and finally succeeded: In vain I am hoping Dell will find the service tag and have a driver for Windows 7, and the good Ashley was correct. Another lump sum dump for a new HP LaserJet which I hope shall be enough, a harangue to my mother's side about my recycling needs, with a reminder that my mother's side is as hyper as I am. Still at the newer Toshiba, learning it and almost done even if I cannot print hard copies, most of this upgrading is hard on low income individuals. What did I do, with my poor stress coping mechanisms, while I waited for the in residence assistance? 

Studied, and I look like a troll,, engendering her own failure. When I can get a nice screen shot of Vinnie or Kimmy or both I will show you my runt with his inadequacy complex. Joey is dead but I can freeze a screen ghoulish shot of his paw prints, his ash box, if I wish to retrieve it from the cabinet. Butterflies Are Free owes much in the generic sense to William Gibson, and ties in to my lack of sympathy for the undercurrent in Madame X that is more or less Turner's deconstruction of her own heyday of A list stardom. The harder I struggle the more it seems I am simply treading water, rabid and totally free of the disease. After a rest, we'll pick it up from here.