I've been locking all of my 'good' entries lately.
Anyway.. soon after I met Glenn, I met his girlfriend. She was a fucking knockout. She had a rack that was busting out of her semi-corset, and she was wearing pleather short-shorts with torn tights and Edward Scissorhands style boots. Full pouty lips, perfectly done eyeliner, and long black hair. Yow, ok. Yow.
According to Stefan, who looked a lot like Robert Smith last night, Glenn's girlfriends always look like that.
I bet he's so jealous. Glenn gets all these gorgeous lasses and he's stuck with my dumpy ass. Oh well, it's his choice I guess. I don't know why he squanders it.
The bruise on my arm is as dark and as big as ever, and I love it. I never want it to go away. I wish I had some sort of nice camera to capture it with.
I love bruises so much. Too much.
We're having some Historical Faire in the park next Sunday where people are coming in Victorian clothes (if only Raspy would be there!) and it's sponsored by the Historic Society. Apparently, the park across the street from my house, the one that they're throwing the faire in, which is filled with drug-dealers and prostitutes, is the oldest one in Vallejo.
I bet the well in the middle remembers when no one pissed in there, and the golden days before cars came along and made everything grimy. Not that I hate cars... I'd be out of my mind without mine, I just wish they weren't so detrimental to the environment.
Even though I honestly hate myself, I find that I'm not above my second grade personality yet, and I still think I am better than other people. There is one in particular that I can call to mind right now, though I will not mention her name. But yes, I think she is a moron, and yes, I wish she would stop lying to everyone just to impress them (even though it never works, because they know she is a pathological liar and pass her off as an idiot), and yes, I wish she would just be herself, no matter how good or bad it turns out to be.
I'm living with myself, and I don't like it, but it's better than having a goddamn front on you which will eventually wear away and leave you cold in the blistered face of society. Damn it. I don't know why I felt like that was important to say, but it was. And I don't know why I feel as though I must justify myself always. The world doesn't care what I do, right or wrong.
Stefan's leaving to Nevada and won't be here for my birthday. Figures. Something bad happens on every one of my birthdays to where I just want the Earth to swallow me up. Oh well. Hopefully I'll be able to see Jessica. She and I will be 18 in two days. Yay for us!
I want to get my check before then so that I can buy lots of cigarettes and lots of pornographic things. I'm thinking of getting a glass display case and buying a fake penis *i don't know whether to say 'vibrator' or 'dildo'... if someone could please explain the difference?* yes, a fake penis, in every colour of the rainbow, and making them, inside this glass case, the most prominent art in my room, and eventually my house.
Fluffy got me hooked on colourful sex toys as art pieces rather than sex toys. And when my brother is being a bastard, I will take out one of the artificial penises and either bludgeon him with it, or chase him with it. Either would probably creep him out a lot. I'd reserve the yellow and pink ones specifically for this purpose.
Well, I'm off to mope for a bit, clean my rheum a bit, maybe watch a Disney movie, and wait for Adult Swim to come on. All excitement, I know.
Ah yes, and Happy Mother's Day to all of you mothers out there. There is one in particular that my love goes out to, and she knows who she is.