I am listening to a lot of Iron & Wine and wearing a lot of hats and writing a lot of papers and not getting a lot of sleep.
my car exploded again and this time might be its swan song... my mom is thinking about doing something awesome like buying a new car and giving me her old one. that would make me so happy. her car has a big rusty dent made by me, and a tape player wherewith I could listen to my sexy new tape of W.B. Yeats poems, and automatic windows, and it actually runs, which is basically all I care about.
my car seems to want to destroy the very idea of "muffler." and "shutting off when I take the key out." and "running properly in general." gerrarhgh.
whatever.
I have been up since 6:30. I spent every second up until 11:15 writing a paper on National and Gender Identity in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. complete with what turned out to be a surprise ending. worst paper ever. I don't care.
tonight, I have to work. normally I could almost deal with such a travesty, but tonight is also the fucking season finale of Grey's Anatomy and the episode last night nearly made me shit my pants so I'm just going to be LIVID having to miss the conclusion. yeah, when I willfully force myself out of every social possibility, I turn to mainstream shit like Grey's Anatomy. loser. cuntfuck. razordildo. I STILL DON'T CARE.
I am tired of life and of normative behavior that prescribes a drinking binge on one's 21st birthday. how fucking.. expected. I really think I am just going to sit at home and avoid everyone and laugh at the Miller High Life in the fridge so I will have a non-story to tell my non-grandchildren someday. or maybe more like "Crazy Aunt Meta didn't drink any alcohol on her 21st birthday and now she is crazy."
birthdays are really fucking tedious anyway. I usually prefer to disappear instead of seeing friends or whatever. the idea of someone celebrating the fact that I was born really fucking freaks me out.
that being said, I would still like a beer, but maybe not for a few weeks. just to show y'all bitches what's what.
my car exploded again and this time might be its swan song... my mom is thinking about doing something awesome like buying a new car and giving me her old one. that would make me so happy. her car has a big rusty dent made by me, and a tape player wherewith I could listen to my sexy new tape of W.B. Yeats poems, and automatic windows, and it actually runs, which is basically all I care about.
my car seems to want to destroy the very idea of "muffler." and "shutting off when I take the key out." and "running properly in general." gerrarhgh.
whatever.
I have been up since 6:30. I spent every second up until 11:15 writing a paper on National and Gender Identity in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. complete with what turned out to be a surprise ending. worst paper ever. I don't care.
tonight, I have to work. normally I could almost deal with such a travesty, but tonight is also the fucking season finale of Grey's Anatomy and the episode last night nearly made me shit my pants so I'm just going to be LIVID having to miss the conclusion. yeah, when I willfully force myself out of every social possibility, I turn to mainstream shit like Grey's Anatomy. loser. cuntfuck. razordildo. I STILL DON'T CARE.
I am tired of life and of normative behavior that prescribes a drinking binge on one's 21st birthday. how fucking.. expected. I really think I am just going to sit at home and avoid everyone and laugh at the Miller High Life in the fridge so I will have a non-story to tell my non-grandchildren someday. or maybe more like "Crazy Aunt Meta didn't drink any alcohol on her 21st birthday and now she is crazy."
birthdays are really fucking tedious anyway. I usually prefer to disappear instead of seeing friends or whatever. the idea of someone celebrating the fact that I was born really fucking freaks me out.
that being said, I would still like a beer, but maybe not for a few weeks. just to show y'all bitches what's what.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
I wonder how my presentations will go on two hours of sleep. Especially the one I completely made up.