I was extremely depressed this afternoon that I sat in the bathtub, soaking in the salted water. A thin line of rust stained the root of the silver hand rail and part of the beige porcelain. It appeared as if the silver hand rail bled caramel and stained the tub forever. I let my limbs float on the water, my toes bobbing up and down like tiny red submarines. Then, I got bored, sat up and assumed a fetal position.

After not speaking with Eurydike for nearly 15 days, a result of my annoyance because of her wanton ways, I called her up finally last night and we ended up discussing her urogenital infection and how she spent a handsome amount of money on suppository. She's still casting blame on the chauvinistic cretin, her "male whore", for her urogenital problem which she is incredibly ashamed of.

The X-Files episode last night was brilliant. I wonder if they have grilled chicken guts in Quantico, Virginia (yes, chicken meat nauseates me but I am a huge fan of grilled chicken guts---a Filipino delicacy usually sold in side streets.)