attica

woo hoo, first entry!

i dropped liam at the emergency room. i am probably a bad person for not being more supportive but there are some things i just can't deal with. the blood and the whole goddamn concept was making me ill. i have never had a metal disk embedded in the cartilage of my ear but i can imagine pretty easily. makes you stop and think "wow, piercings are fucking ricockulous."

i wonder if darwin would find my nipple rings sexy.

i feel physically much better today. i've been really fucking out of it. i had a paranoid breakdown last night, crouched in the doorframe, blanket-wrapped and whimpering, thinking that someone recognized the rug that i stole and were going to break in and kill me for it.

and i'd be like "no, bitch, i just borrowed it!"

i also ate the shit out of some food. i was terrified. i became an animal, shucking packaging and barely chewing. it was pretty much my survival instincts bitchslapping me and telling me to step aside, because no one will care about my twenty-four-inch waistline in hell. thank you, body, for being smarter than your own brain.

i'm so excited about seeing thor play tonight. with fatal pink or whatever. (yes yes, lethal red.)

i wish i had a marketable passion and/or talent. i won't be a rockstar. i refuse to be a slam poet. pr0n is awesome, of course, but my photographic knowledge ends at "trial and error" and if i can't smoothly operate the business end of a camera, then i'm just some floozy who needs to go to college and get a real job. staring at pixels and adjusting pantyhose in a cubicle.

i will find my purpose. shush your cockhole, young self, you'll recognize the correct moment to cease holding your horses. and then my destiny will go galloping wildly away into the western horizon, my fingers entwined in the golden manes of bareback rockstars! acid rain! snowdrifts of coke! the world shall be my jawbreaker! shit, bitch!

if in doubt, assume i'm being sarcastic.