cavalier of odds

zen and the art of vacuum aspiration

2009-06-25T13:51:00.000-07:00

today is the two week anniversary of mewithoutbaby. hooray! i cannot believe how fucking awesome this abortion was. did you know abortions can be awesome and special? i told my ex boyfriend that i was carrying his baby around in my unhappy stomach over a sprite in a bar and asked him to help me. i told a few friends as well, as part of my "don't internalize this fucking situation like last time when it drove you crazy" game plan, but i didn't expect to tell justin and it surprised me when i found myself in a bar all shaky and full of difficult information.

the crap i have dated usually gets poor treatment in this blog but let's go on the record saying justin was nothing but a perfect abortion angel and i would probably marry him if he was just a tick smarter. basically i was a princess for 24 hours, only with fewer patriotic duties. there is seriously nothing more precious and wonderful than the guy who got you pregnant throwing his unfinished sandwich at abortion protesters as you leave the clinic, yelling "YOU ASSHOLES!" and patting your knee with concern. "don't look at them, they're fucking assholes," he said, kindly. "you ok? want a sprite?"

the nurse gave me an ultrasound and asked if i wanted to know anything. last time i just muttered to get it over with. this time i looked at the peanut on the screen as the nurse said "your baby is at 9 weeks and 6 days" and it was like a brand new plane of existence. i made a peanut! holy shit! i felt no regret, just total awe and pleasure, in the sense of being incredibly pleased with myself for a short time. i still have no regrets and in fact the whole situation brought me incredible peace, resolving scores of latent guilt and anger from my last two brushes with unplanned pregnancy. turns out all i needed was to do it right.

it's always sunny in philadelphia

2009-06-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

i don't know what to do. every day i am thinking something different and none of them are right. i am FUCKING pregnant. my STUPID FUCKING EX BOYFRIEND got me FUCKING pregnant. i do NOT want to have another abortion. i do NOT want to raise a STUPID baby alone or with stupid justin irritating my life for eighteen FUCKING years. i kinda want to do an adoption but all the stuff i have been reading is making me FUCKING TERRIFIED of the amount of shitty grief baggage i will carry around for the rest of my stupid life, because i totally will, i will convince myself it is the "right" thing and three years later i will be committed to an institution for extreme fucking unfitness to live. i know myself too well by now. i guess i am having an abortion, but i am a fucking wreck even thinking about it. please don't make me have another abortion. i tried to make an appointment on planned parenthood online and there is no option for just looking at my uterus and talking about options and baby health. just abortions and more abortions so now i am having a serious meltdown. i wish i still had health insurance so someone could look at my shit and talk to me in a calming voice. my tits are huge today. you can feel where my lower abdomen is getting hard. i don't know if i have ever cried as hard as i am right now, it is making me nauseous. i am so tired of making decisions for myself. this is the worst vacation ever.

if you like it then you should have put a lid on it

2009-05-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

last night i got totally fed up with how stupid my stupid boyfriend is so i dumped him and now i feel like a helium molecule, but prettier and with more hope. god it is so great not dating morons. i have dated exclusively dumb pieces of ass since rio broke my heart into a zillion stupid pieces and i think i am done now, hopefully. at least i gave this guy a clean exit, the last guy i dated i made leave my house because he was so boring he was literally putting me to sleep, so i was all GOING TO BED NOW BYE and left 10 minutes later for a beer festival, which he caught me at. actually he caught me and kathleen drunkenly skulking out of the bar after i spotted him. literally skulking, at literal half height, with my arms all chickenwing. AWKWARD! so really my "this is not working out because you are very, very stupid and you told reverend lovejoy's wife to 'shut the fuck up you stupid bitch' when you were drunk" speech was a paragon of dignity and respect. screaming at the simpsons just made my list of dealbreakers. i didn't even know that fucking existed.

anyway the point is i am outrageously joyously S-I-N-G-L-E and i just booked a phlight to philadelphia! single ladies on vay cay! i plan on phlying a kite over benji phranklin's grave, and eating the shit out of some ethiopean food, after which we will get very drunk in our hotel room and watch cartoons. is there a boyz II men museum i should put on the itinerary, or what? please advise.

aesop's foibles

2009-01-14T16:03:00.001-08:00

because i got lazy and drunk this week i had to stay up late doing bullshit busy work and i put on this mix cd that my ex boyfriend gave me that i skipped through once then put all the cute pretty songs on another playlist but last night i listened to the whole thing for real (instead of doing my homework) and i am physically appalled at what kind of shit i have been letting slide because of my tendency to get lazy and drunk. like for instance there is a weezer song on it. here is a piping hot memo for the mix masters out there, OH MY GOD DO NOT EVER GIVE YOUR GIRLFRIEND A MIX WITH WEEZER ON IT. i would be mildly embarrassed even if i got say "falling for you" on a mix but motherfucker gave me "HEART SONGS." literally a song by weezer about weezer. CUOMO WHAT?! also i got a sublime song about fucking a 15 year old, a new agey robot abortion by some guy named jeremy ellis, who should drown in his pukey voice, a ska girl power song in which the chorus backup singers say PICK IT UP several times in succession, featuring another pukey voice, who reminds me of some unwashed psychotics i met at lyndon larouche meetings, and the fucking beta band, who are the musical equivalent of a mud puddle stirred by wind. i suppose this is my punishment for dating almost without exception humorless stoners. i have seen it all, counting crows tattoos, awkward daily recitations of political hip hop, convoluted 4-track poetry tapes, radio shows featuring "ska vs. twee," and that is not even counting the time i fucked an american idol, ewww. this is what it sounds like when your life is a ridiculous series of mistakes. it sounds like a mix cd with fucking incubus on it. i have to go.

junk trunk trader

2009-01-08T01:20:00.000-08:00

i went back to school somehow, which is the scariest and most humiliating thing i have ever done after fucking myself over in round one of higher education, and on the first day of classes i got into my car and there was a puddle on the passenger seat floor. like most car problems i ignored it, cars are like bitches, either they will shut up after awhile or ruin your life. today the puddle grew into a pond in both front and backseat passenger sides and it is rain-dumping season and my electrical system is going all HAL 9000 which is not particularly reassuring, so i took it to a shop on south tacoma way where this guy opened my trunk and there it was. lake you're fucked. he pulled out this plug thing and GALLONS AND GALLONS OF WATER poured out of my trunk and it was all yellow colored, i KNOW, CAR PEE, GROSS. my car is like 18 years old and it already needs depends. i could write a book about my ghetto car troubles. apparently i have to pay these orange jumpsuits hundreds of dollars for the privilege of driving my car for another two months until it starts to smell like a yeti vagina and i sell it for five dollars and a bus pass. i can't even lock it anymore because of the schizo circuits so i am hoping it will get stolen from my block which is in a shall we say "high auto crime area" and geico can cup my financial balls, oh yeahhh.

i would be angrier but i have this great new rain jacket, you see.

consider the lobster

2008-11-18T01:58:00.000-08:00

the nurse gave me the diagnosis and i just sat there, vaguely confused in paper clothes. i am not ready for this. autumn in the northwest is always beautiful but full of rain and mist and today was the first misty day since early spring, and we've barely had three days of rain for months so it felt like a fresh start. a beautiful, clear, pacific autumn. autumn is when i lose control, drinking like it's summer and the days will never end and there is always another thing to do but it isn't and they do and it's harder and i end up drunk and crazy, story of my autumns. a miscarriage. a carriage i never missed. if i would ever have kept such a wretched goddamn carriage it would have been yours. not because i know i love you because i don't. not because i want it because i don't. not because of a million reasons that don't even matter because i missed. i am afraid of this body that constantly gives me new reasons to be suspicious and antisocial. i am afraid of this loaded knowledge the nurse gave me in a brusque tone without even looking at me. i am afraid of you, the constant i didn't even know was a constant, the x to my y. my stupid cat is being a diva and will not even sleep with me in my time of need so i am going to bed alone to have more nightmares about endless road trips through hell. i think i love you, but i am far too scarred to deal with this right now.

2008-11-07T13:01:00.000-08:00

i will never forgive you for this. i am doing the mature thing, detaching, distancing, fucking someone else, distracting, thinking, drinking, sleeping with my bunny rabbit. i'm fucking done. i am getting better but i will never forgive you for this and i am never going to be ruined again.

whenever i used to stub my toe or scrape my knee or otherwise jack up my body my mom would say "that's the last time you will ever do that."

i hope everything that ever happens to you from now on is wholly mediocre. even bad things are too good for you. you are already fading. it would have been nice if you called to say goodbye.

good old neon.

2008-09-15T22:59:00.000-07:00

fuck this place. if david foster wallace couldn't find enough to live for then what the hell am i still doing here? god i loved him so much. even though he chewed tobacco (gross). even chewing tobacco seemed bright and curious and thoughtful and funny when david foster wallace was doing it.

i remember the first time i read infinite jest. i lived in my first house off campus and none of my friends were staying in tacoma for the summer and i was really lonely and i didn't have a computer or even a stereo (broke down during finals week) so i came home from my three jobs and i sat in my room and read for like 3 months straight. i read every book on a list of fifty books that people had casually recommended to me over a few years. i sat in my silent room in the middle of july and ate vegan cookies (i was a vegan then too) and i read infinite jest. and then i read every other book of his i could get my hands on. infinite jest is magical and sincere and realistic and fucking awestriking and his stories are arresting and his essays make you wish you were his best friend. i bet he could even make me like modern poetry. fucking poetry man, when i used to write more on this piece of shit some people told me i was like a young bukowski or something. i never even fucking read bukowski until 2006 and when i was done i was like fuck that indulgent bore, i wish i wrote like david foster wallace.

the first thing i thought when i heard about his suicide was what the fuck? none of his writing is like that, this is not some hunter s. self fulfilled prophecy, david foster wallace was thoughtful and cautiously optimistic. he was the greatest living author today. was. fuck.

the second thing i thought when i heard about his suicide is oh great now i am NEVER going to get my wallace collection together on one shelf. i have all his books but, AHEM, the people i loaned many of them to never gave them back. it is really awesome to loan books by your favorite author out for like three years. it is a gift that keeps on giving. if you are one of these delinquent souls please email me for my address or drop them by or dfw will haunt the balls out of you, leaving complicated footnotes in tragic, hilarious blood on your bathroom mirror.

there are funny authors, and brilliant authors, creative and obsessive and theoretical and absurd writers whose plain words sparkle together but david foster wallace was all that and more and his brain danced for pages and pages of wonderful, neurotic clarity and i am sincerely, in the most sincere history of sincerity, depressed that nothing more will come from his hot strangled mess of a brain. that's all. if it's ever all.

dirty eyes and friend requests

2008-09-07T23:51:00.000-07:00

i love how you ripped my dress off, all those stupid straps that look great until i am humming with expectation and then i am bound in nylon rope or some bullshit and you just like "take care of it" with one hot swoop. remember when we made out when snow fell around us and we called it an iced mocha? puget sound's secret romances. remember when we kissed on the roof of my old house, and when you bruised the shit out of my thighs on granite mountain and how the squirrels ran away with the cookies when we kissed for hours on the picnic bench next to that bar where, much later, i drank most of a mediocre ipa? you made me this and i will not lose you in the sands of all the people i wish i hadn't fucked. i love you forever until i run out of batteries.

6/11/08

2008-09-03T01:10:00.000-07:00

this was in the stranger a while back by some writer guy, tao something, i am far too lazy to lookup bibliographical minutiae but rest assured i did not write it:

SEATTLE IS IMMUNE TO "REAL" DESPAIR

I feel like most people in Seattle have "given up on life" due to a comprehensive knowledge about existentialism but in a "good" way that doesn't feel bad at all. They wake up, go to work copywriting shampoo advertisements, go home, lie in fetal positions facing the back of their sofas, and feel beautiful and existentially awesome. I can successfully transpose existential despair onto any city, but when I do it to Seattle something happens and it becomes "really good" somehow. I think Kafka would have "thrived" in Seattle and written something like seven 800-page novels about the happiness of crippling loneliness with titles like Helvetica Font and The Seattle Public Library Is Beautiful and The Joy of Existential Non Well-Being. The passage from Ronald Hayman's biography of Kafka that reads, "One Saturday evening [Kafka's sister] came home from the shop to find [Kafka] sitting on the sofa, staring blankly in front of him. Aware he had been eating very little, she asked whether he was going to have supper, but he did not answer, and they just stared at each other," would instead read "One Saturday afternoon [Kafka's sister] came home from Elliott Bay Book Company to find [Kafka] standing on the sofa, smiling widely with his arms out in a kind of ecstasy. Aware he had just published his fifth 800-page novel, Freedom in Capital Letters with 19 Exclamation Points After It, she asked whether or not he had seen review copies yet, but he did not answer, and they just grinned at each other a lot." The passage, from the same book, that reads, "[Kafka] decided to write a frank letter to [his fiancée's father], and show it to [his fiancée] before sending it. It would explain how, for about 10 years, he had been increasingly aware of lacking the sense of well-being most people had. Her father might like to recommend a doctor who would examine him and report on his findings," would read, "[Kafka] decided to write an 800-page novel about how happy he felt that something like 'bagels' existed, and show it to [his editor at Knopf]. The novel would explain how, for his entire life, he had been very happy. [His editor at Knopf] might give him a $2,000,000 advance and let him design the cover himself."

5/7/08 chicken soup for the fuck you

2008-09-01T22:48:00.000-07:00

i quit smoking over a month ago and just now got hit with the vicious munchies as well as a cranky ass white hot hate streak a mile fucking deep and people will NOT stop stepping in my motherfucking GRILL. stupid baby ollie is playing with some horrible toy that sings the chorus of ring of fire. this is what children do to you, they ruin johnny cash and peanut butter and laughter and all the other fine things you take for granted. i think somehow all the customers at work know i am quitting my dead gay job because they are all being the most ingratiating worms possible when i all i want to do is scowl for eight hours next to the flavored cigars and seriously SERIOUSLY i am so FUCKING SICK of people leering at me and making stupid comments about how i should go out with them like i am in some 50 year old person middle school called life. SPEAKING OF COMMENTS let us give a giant go fuck yourself to a supposed friend who recently said something like "i really back you for working at a gas station so long, you know, just totally ignoring that stereotype of dropping out of school and pumping gas for a living" i mean what the fuck is that supposed to mean. man i really back you for talking up your awesome grad school and 50 year plan for fucking ever and then not even making it to the first day of classes before you got cold feet and moved back to your mom's! as long as we are condescendingly condensing each others' lives! don't forget the part where i was a slut!

additionally fuck you for thinking blogs even got shit to say anymore like progress come from zeroes and ones and a bunch of dumb losers at home with their cat and whiskey and opinions will ever make the world a better place. obviously you do if you are reading this shit, unless you are reading it on an rss reader in which case fuck you repeatedly. basically the only reason i have not deleted this dumrag yet is because i think it is pretty. i like my background and little font and the picture etienne drew of me and i even still like 31 knots after all this time. I'M THE CAVALIER OF ODDS I'M THE TAKER OF THE CHANCE I'M THE HOUR OF THE ENVY AND THAT'S THE HOUR THAT YOU HAVE. ha ha, i am a weenie.

here is a thing you will discover if you keep reading horrible self indulgent blogs by crazy or confused people, sincerity and its cousin lucidity are rare birds and eventually all of this leaves a bad taste in your heart and maybe someday you will find something that doesn't even remotely involve schadenfreude riddled group masturbation like this rotten network of shitty writing that someone somewhere mistook for a movement.

i am considering abandoning all this detritus and moving to utah. i hear you can have great sex in utah.

aw i take back my customer rage this precious and stylish teenager just told me my hair was beautiful.

2/6/08 grit city son

2008-08-31T23:01:00.000-07:00

wednesdays are special days because that is when groceries come and i get to put everything in its place. putting things in their place is one of my favorite pastimes. the best thing about being a failure at life is that i take insane pride in menial tasks like pricing corn nuts. it is like i just got out of prison or rehab. last night was my ulysses reading group and all the guinness flowing like milk and honey out of the backroom of doyles knock down dragged me out and i passed out with a veggy corn dog in my hand kissing my cat on the face - because that is where he likes to be kissed - and then he ate my corn dog.

bill clinton is speaking at my old university on friday. i will be at work ten blocks away and i will also be at work during the caucus on saturday and i am pretty pissed about both of these. see i am not a loser pseudo convict junkie but rather an informed american and important tacoma literati.

2008-08-31T22:56:00.000-07:00

i have this bad habit of opening my create post page and writing some bullshit in there and forgetting it and closing my browser so my login is cluttered to shit with unposted posts so maybe to stop hating myself i will post all these entries from months ago about how much i hate myself on a daily basis. here goes.

2008-08-24T23:13:00.000-07:00

this is a really shitty time for me right now. you cannot go fuck yourselves fast enough for me to get any satisfaction out of it. i had a lot of fun tonight being an obnoxious asshole at the central cinema screening of "legend," the worst movie of all time, and i am still sitting in bed at 1130pm on a sunday wishing i had run my car into a forty foot gulch when i had the chance. i am at a loss for words, which is how i have felt for like two months since i got back from salt lake city. typing and writing things feels really creepy and i have developed this nagging fear that everything that departs my mind, text or spoken or significant looks or what have you, is going to come back and fuck me hard and it is already happening RIGHT NOW AS I TYPE so i guess i am going to bed where i can shiver undisturbed.

jerk seitan

2008-08-19T15:58:00.000-07:00

i just broke another fucking vibrator. there is no room in my budget for another goddamn vibrator and WHAT THE FUCK toys in babeland you are SUPPOSED to be the QUALITY purveyor of battery powered sexy fun in this goddamn town i am too angry to finish myself off so i guess i will just be the surliest waitress in the north end until i go to seattle tomorrow and buy another one with money i don't have. let us also give thanks to my gay boyfriend who just haaaaaaad to move away so i have to rub his letters all over my tits and stick a piece of plastic on my vagina instead of getting laid the fun way. what a weenis. great, now the cats are swarming around my fingers, i have to go clean up, furiously.

burn down the disco

2008-08-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

i thought i would be less irritated when i woke up but it turns out i am still fucking angry at the kj at ida's who CUT ME OFF in the middle of panic. "okay we're gonna take this one off the list -- i don't like the words" she said as she turned down the music midlyric. what is your damage, purple dawn? first of all WHO TURNS OFF THE SMITHS IN A GAY BAR. idiot. second, you idiot, the lyrics are hang the dj not the kj and the last time i checked you were not picking the music that they constantly play that has nothing to do with my life. third of all i was kicking ass as morrissey in a floral print skirt and i have witnesses to corroborate that. fourth of all, considering how many times i have kicked ass on that stage (EVERY time, minus one ill-conceived last-call duet of come on eileen) the fact that you made me wait ten songs to get back in and then sneered "good luck" when i put in my ticket makes me furious so i left. i refuse to go back to ida's until they hire another kj who is not a fat old bitch who lets morons scream the humpty dance atonally but censors the fuck out of my art. also it cannot be colin, i have beef with him too.

2008-07-28T12:25:00.000-07:00

JESUS H i knew this was a bad idea. in the week.5 my sister has been in la, she has
1) purchased a newish mustang convertible
2) accidentally cut off a driver in her mustang who then got out of the car and PUNCHED her boyfriend in the head
3) went to go to dinner with some "syrian prince" she met on the internet who was going to help her find a job and let her rent a room from him LUCKILY i found out about it and convinced her not to go but only by admitting that i have been RAPED in the process of investigating job offers from the internet. my sister can be very obstinate but i guess sister secrets are more persuasive than i thought.

can somebody please find her a nice job as a hostess or intern or something so she can stop being naive fucking rapebait? i am turning into a neurotic mess, again. the point of me is that i am stupid and do stupid shit because apparently i have to drag everything to its logical conclusion before i learn any god damn lessons. the other point of me is to develop a lot of untempered rage towards the world when they try to work the same shit over on my charming funny attractive and clueless fucking siblings. i wonder if my car can handle another high speed road trip.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

2008-07-17T09:56:00.000-07:00

today my little sister climbed into a car to drive to los angeles and become a star. DON'T GO TO THAT TOWN! i warned her. THERE ARE BAD PEOPLE THERE WHO WILL TAKE YOUR CHARMING SASSY WIT AND COUNTRY GIRL GOOD LOOKS AND EXPLOIT YOU TO DEPRESSING ENDS AND ALSO THE TRANSIT SUCKS! she never listens to me so i said look, ok, i will move there with you to protect you from the bad people who will lie to your face and take all your money and honor and feed you drugs and i will drive you around and if you learn to drive a stick i will give you my car. so she went apartment hunting and called me from hollywood one day in march. "guess what i found the perfect place, omg, it's the best," she squeaked. "it's in west hollywood and it's got a pool and exercise room and it's right off sunset! only 600 bucks a person!" i smelled a rat. how many bedrooms does this place have, i asked. "oh just the one, but you me and kathleen can all room together, i don't mind. what about bunk beds!" my baby sister, the only innocent person left on this planet besides maybe my brother, is going to the big bad city of angels. if you see her please be kind to her so she can call me in a week and say, i don't know what you were going on about dude, you should lighten up, life is great! and she can call me every week and say the same thing until i know she will be alright.

and if anyone down there fucks with her i will be on the first plane to personally kick your ass through your throat. you had your warning.

2008-07-09T00:19:00.000-07:00

shit sucks and i'm tired. i am on a beer rampage. beer beer beer beer beer, beer beer. i never know what to say to myself anymore. i am less unhappy since i don't work crazy morning hours anymore but i am more useless than ever and, at the moment, brokezilla the drunk. there is a good reason jolly roger is only supposed to be on tap during xmas, fucking million proof pirate beer is lethal when everyone in washington has the warm weather crazies. we only get 2.5 months of perfect dream weather to make up for the drizzly grey bullshit so everyday is the end of the world in a town like tacoma where it's still cool for everyone you know to have a drinking problem. apparently we can never go back to hanks.

beer is so great.

i love your crooked tooth and the fireworks in your face when we jumped over the hedge and i scratched the shit out of my knee and how your eyes glowed with peaceful concentration when we built an underwater pirate torture station out of legos. i love that i am so confused and i love being so tired. i hope i am doing the right thing.

wish you were here

2008-07-01T12:34:00.001-07:00

because my heart is pure ryan and i threw a surprise party for k muffin and because my brain is crafty i doused everyone in bubbly red wine somewhere after shot #4. bubbly red wine popping all over your eyes and pooling in the pocket at the bottom of your neck and ruining your white shorts is elf magic and the first thing in weeks that has made me want to live. the second thing is the road trip.

i like the part on google maps where it says turn here (.1 miles) then take this exit (230 feet) then take this exit (415 miles) then take this exit (170 miles), etc. i like google maps almost as much as i like real maps and the idea of my little car hurtling down mountain passes and past rock formations and rabbit families and diners that you can still smoke in even though i quit smoking. in the land of blue eyed big sky beehive devils i only have eyes for yours. sleeping now more later.

scrape me

2008-06-21T10:28:00.000-07:00

today i had the amazing experience of riding my bike downhill with blood flying out behind me. this is really a pinnacle of existence.

things that are pinnacles of existence:
1. breaking glass over someone's head
2. drinking champagne and swinging really high on a swingset and jumping off and landing on your feet and doing gymnast triumph poses
3. riding your bike downhill with blood gushing from a fresh wound

there are more but it is the opposite of fun to list everything that is fun.

anyways my feet hurt in a brutal way so when i woke up at ashleys apartment i borrowed her flip flops to bike home which as everyone who has ever ridden a bike knows is a terrible idea. my old bike was a piece of shit and i wiped out a lot on it because it was decrepit and had awful brakes and gears and what not but biking is fucking awesome so i did it anyway until one wipeout bent a crucial mechanical part. then i bought a fancy bike with my "economic stimulus" and it was a wet dream from god until i busted my foot open on 21st street and had to hobble home and i saw a regular from the gas station and he was all hey man how's it going what happened to your OH GOD and he literally ran away from me. god being crippled is so fucking great. i guess i should put a band aid on my foot now, or stitch it together, maybe.

love and communication

2008-06-15T22:20:00.000-07:00

today was beautiful like a kinks song so i got drunk and masturbated on the trampoline because i was going to send slutty pictures to my stupid boyfriend but instead i just gave myself a really sketchy burn line and if anyone other than my boyfriend sees my stomach i will have some very awkward explaining to do. um yes mother, i fell asleep naked with a, um, rolling pin across my stomach? but it rolled around so the line is indistinct? in my sleep? right. the moral of the story is if you send your girlfriend a cute letter in the mail she will turn into a puddle of gay and take naked pictures for you because girls love mail. the other moral of the story is it is really uncomfortable to ride your bike to work when you have been masturbating in the sun all afternoon. fuck my skin hurts. i miss you.

tough love

2008-06-09T00:26:00.000-07:00

this dumb old witch came in to sit and read her newspaper with a glass of wine and since it was super slow i sat and chatted to her about politics, more like listened to her talk a-go-ni-zing-ly slo-o-o-o-owly full of ga-a-a-a-ay paus-es about "before the feminists" and how i should listen to npr or something and then she chastised me for quitting college cos i explained (the easier explanation) that i was too poor to keep going to college, which is true as i went crazy while i was running out of money/up huge unwieldly loans which added to my crazy so either way i never would have finished at that school and i currently pay double my fucking rent to sallie mae as some sort of cruel financial penance. no that is not an exaggeration. but hey thanks for the pep talk lady and thanks for the TWO BIT TIP! work has been shit lately cos the weather is crummy and the economy is crummier and i dunno how long i am gonna make it here if alls i get is patronizing old hags tossing me a couple of quarters with their wizened advice and expecting me to scrape a living out of it. i should melt them down into a bullet and kill her dog. this fucking cretin also asked me if i "blogged," BLOG THIS. i hate my life.

8-ball in the corner pus pocket

2008-06-02T01:51:00.000-07:00

ugh man i went into urgent care today cos i felt crappy all week and got a sore throat too but i am so used to feeling run down that i was like whatever another damn cold or something but then i looked at my throat and it was covered in white shit and i yelled OH GROSSSSSSS and regretted it instantly because it made my throat hurt to yell. seriously that might be the grossest thing i have ever seen, my throat covered in patches of nasty ass white spots. first i was like oh no i sucked my boyfriends dick two days ago and he gave me throat herpes or something! he is lying and cheating with his cute face and nasty balls! thank god for wikipedia and web md for having pictures of scary shit that can grow in your mouth so you can nip accusations of sluttery in the bud so to speak. anyways web md suggested i had cancer or "tonsillitis" which is ambiguously gay so i went into urgent care like i said and the funniest little fat girl was talking to her grampa on the phone, she'd be like grampa i been here an HOUR i feel like hell! and there'd be a pause and she'd say there is two people ahead of me and another pause and she goes well everyone's not so special grampa. god i wish i understood the world when i was ten. also she started wailing about the waiting room conditions. grampa don't EVER go to a hospital! it's awful! the old magazines, the comfy chairs, the pictures of landscapes! the horror! haha she literally said all these things. and she was so fat and she had one of those gooey ducky kid voices it was amazing. anyway i either have some dumb fucking infection or MONO i will find out mid week.

so you wanna be a superhero

2008-05-23T01:00:00.000-07:00

can anyone advise me in the matter of changing identities and disappearing off the face of the earth because i have had enough of this being me shit i do not think i am strong enough for more ventricular sabotage. you fucking, i don't know, you are past words. you even made my tantrum cute you precious piece of shit. i never tasted anyone elses tears before you said and i pretty much just walked out of the house and off a cliff into commencement bay drowning in the port lights and right now i think i am going to drink the rest of the whiskey that i haven't drunk in months and i have to be at work in less than 4 hours because every day i am paying for my old mistakes but right now i am going to drink this whiskey for the new ones. shit, i think i have to keep my identity because my parents cosigned my original student loans. this is the same thing that has kept me from suicide several times, imagining my nice parents working thru their retirement to cover my rotting white ass because i was too gay to pay for it all myself. i guess what i need is a million dollars and a shattered stiffening heart and i am already halfway there. for fucks sake.