Pretty

It's been pretty cold around these parts for late May. I'm pretty sure I'll have to don a jacket into June.

It's getting pretty late, but I'm not tired. I was pretty excited to watch Game 2 of the Habs-Flyers series, even if it was pretty ugly in retrospect. Celtics-Magic Game 2 was better: it was pretty close for most of the game, but in the end the Celts took a 2-0 series lead. It'll be pretty hard for Orlando to catch ground once the series shifts to Boston.

I was pretty hungry earlier, but then I had some Ruffles and some Doritos and some Stella Artois, and now I'm not hungry anymore. To tell you the truth, I'm feeling pretty drunk. Not too drunk, though; when that happens, it's not pretty. I can get pretty mean when I'm in my cups.

I feel pretty good, actually. I was pretty bored, but now I'm pretty interested. Guy's Big Bite is on The Food Network. He's making pepperoni lasagna, and it looks pretty tasty. I'm pretty sure I could never replicate his recipe, but if I tried pretty hard I think I could produce a pretty good facsimile.

You know what? I'm pretty happy to be home. It's pretty nice to experience the things I can't when I'm abroad (sleeping in, cocaine). I get pretty antsy being cooped up at home, but overall it's pretty relaxing. I'm pretty happy.

Because I'm with my daughter.

She's pretty.