|Saturday, October 5th, 2002|
1:59a - Just Chaos.
Happy Birthday, Johnny.
Tonight was crazy. Went to Chevy's and then saw Red Dragon. I have abandoned my plans of fasting until the 23rd. There are other ways to prove to myself that love still exists in this heart of mine.
Ran into a bunch of people who I never see in favour of being a hermit.
Red Dragon was good. Anthony Hopkins makes me think dirty teenage Buick thoughts. Speaking of which, Stefan and I found the best make-out points in the history of the world a few nights ago. Up on a big hill overlooking lots of nice houses, and where couples are not likely to be disturbed. It was a cool discovery.
I am performing weird experiments on myself, and they all involve other people who don't know that they're involved.
Work was ok. Nil (the big boss lady) likes me a lot, and wants me to still work, even if it is only for one day a week. Rad. Plus, she's the one I answer to now.
I'm tired as fuckity-fuck.
Ralph Fiennes is still fine.
I bought some cool things today but they are a surprise.
Now, here is the best news ever: Travis, my stupid ex-boyfriend, is back in Vallejo. He moved off to Arizona thinking that life would be so great only to call me all the time feeling lonely and then get angry with me upon discovering I had a life without him, and then when I would get pissed off he would beg me to call him and tell me how lonely he was. Before he left, he had this huge chip on his shoulder about how much better Arizona is than California, and how he was breaking away from everything that made his life miserable (ie, me, his mom, his 'friends'). Two or so months into having moved away, his friend who he moved there with moves back to California, to go and live with his girlfriend in San Diego.
He was working two jobs and still couldn't pull his weight, despite having a room-mate. Take that Mr. The-Economy-Is-Better. How about minimum wage is lower, and no one wants to put up with your terrible attitude?
Anyway, all my hopes of failure for him came true, and he had to come creeping back on his belly, having failed, like the dirty snake he is. The only difference between him and snakes is that snakes have spines of some sort.
Anyway. I was right. I hope your tail feels good between your legs, fucker!
Game. Set. Match.
current mood: satisfied
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6:35p - No Fortress Is Impenetrable.
I wonder if the art whores hate us as much as we hate them...
Also. I really hate it how typical males can not handle emotional things. They think spiritualism is pansy. They think what Ghandi did was sick.
And when they worry, they don't get sad.
They get pissed off.
When I tried to off myself a few years ago, Travis came to visit me in the emergency room, and what did he do? He yelled.
What did my father do when he found out I had a tummy full o' pills? He yelled.
What did my mom (a female) do? She cried and pleaded with me.
Anyway. I hate how males get pissed off when they worry, rather than showing you how it's fucking them up. I guess it's a testosterone thing, 'cos not all boys are like that. Thank heavens not all boys are like that. I bet Lil' Johnny cries when he is worried. I bet Robert Smith only cried at the thought of loss, never yelled about it.
I seriously need to become a lesbian. Women are so not the weaker sex. Plus, girly men are the kind straight girls go for these days anyway. What does that tell you? And how come in high school the girls only fell for the really flaming homosexuals? It's because women really want women. Plus, female bodies are prettier.
current mood: kill your boyfriend.
(5 comments |BUH)