Slow on Sunday...

Well, it's Sunday afternoon and I'm home alone. And what better for me to do than to sit ans putter around the house, twiddling my thumbs?

I've had my outing for the day, been taken for granted and am just plain bored. I have no one to call (well no one I'd really like to talk to) and nothing to occupy my time. I don't have to cook dinner, my brother's spending the night over Jamere's and I don't have a boo to holler at. I would love nothing more than to dial some 678, 770 or 404 number and have a masculine voice pick up the phone so I can tell him to come on over. This is why an ATL shorty is a necessity.

Sure, I've got Shane, but a call in to him would most certainly end in disaster. Corey's in NY and after last night's dream, he would wish he was here. Then there's Jamal, the guy I gave my number to only cuz he looked like Jay-Z, but on gp alone I won't call him. Looking back, that was a mistake and I did it just to give him a little confidence. Not the way to go, though, he had holes in his shirt...:-/

This sucks, Sundays are supposed to be spent cuddled up with your hunny, doing absolutely nothing. I'm watching on-demand, enjoying "the Wire," but Idris Elba's fine ass ain't helpin' my situation, either.

I'm just gonna lay back and let the day come to a close and hope someone calls me to take me out of my misery...

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