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Hello, happy Monday. Guess the fuck what? I am sitting in my, like, little room off my

rim.

That sounds stupid. Getting high off, like, paint fumes because there are

painters in my house where everything is completely wrapped in plastic, like bubble

girl, and I'm bubbled into my room essentially. We had to ruin their plastic twice trying

to get my shit, and I felt like they were very angry at me.

Anyways, I'm in here. The paint fumes are really just starting to suffocate, and the

hit. Got my little weed pin. I live in a legal state, fuck off care care. And there's

no carons here.

Carons don't like click the horny housewife unless I'm, and if they do, and then go leave

me a bad review, then they're just fucking haters. And that's okay because you're still

giving me download. Also, I got my iced matcha latte, just high on life, and or cannabis

and caffeine. I had a lovely listener tell me, well, they were really nice and like, definitely

like, buttered me up through an listener question, but it was like, I could live without

the singing, and I thought that was funny that tickled me because I do wonder, because I

sit here alone with a microphone, okay? And like, I've been doing weird shit when I'm

alone, you know? So sometimes a tune comes out, or I get and sing songy. I find it, you

know, refreshing comic relief. Others might find it horrifying and cringy and, you know,

black and hand embarrassment, but that's okay. Or it just hurts three years. It just

...