do you love your guns? god? government? Fuck you.

Some of you, dear readers, may have noticed that I use different song lyrics for the titles of my entries. Are there any you'd like to see here? An artist or song you'd like to promote? My blog reaches millions of readers. This is your chance to get the word out!

falling in love again, never wanted to. what am i to do? i can't help it.

What do you wear to meet a nudist?

I'm feeling a bit better now that I did when I wrote here a few days ago.

Nothing really new to report.

i wash the windows outside in hopes that the glare will bring you around

I haven't done any paintings in quite a while. I started drawing on a canvas a couple days ago, so we'll see if anything turns up. I think it's a drawing of my ex, even though it wasn't intended to be. I guess it doesn't have to be him. We've been attempting a friendship after not speaking for a year and a half after we broke up. Still not sure where's that's going to go. It's hard to forget some things, but when you loved someone that much, those things you loved are still there. That's hard to admit. It was nice sometimes when we weren't talking because I could pretend he was a piece of shit, but talking to him reminds me that he's not.

i got pills that are blue i got pills that are red i got pills that will make me forget what i said

I've wanted a massage for several months now but apparently they all come with hand jobs, etc. now. I'm not going to pay for a handjob, etc.

We need another celebrity death to focus on.

i opened up my wrist and nobody knows by name

I'm in no mood to be funny today. Maybe I will be anyway. I've just been frustrated lately with everything and frustrated for not getting the things in life I want and for not even trying to get the things I want. I'm a fucking mess and it never gets any different no matter the times I tell myself it is or it will. there's just a series of people who don't understand and who think they do and then run away when they figure out the truths. and i don't really understand either. i just pretend to have control. i make things up. i could eat a thousand acres of ice cream and nothing will get any different. i'll just get fatter. and people don't even pretend anymore.

anyway, Rickie Lee Jones has an amazing new album called "Sermon on Exposition Blvd." go buy it.

the only one who could ever groove me was the son of a preacher man

I touched an ovary today. Can anyone top that?

what the fuck is ladylike if ladies like to do what the fuck they like?

I sit here hoping the words will come pouring out, brilliantly, perhaps even breathtakingly. It always seems to turn out, though, that in hiding what I really want to go on and on about, nothing else comes out. But I'm too reserved to talk about what I don't want to put out there for the several people who read this. Or the several other people who might read this but probably never will.

Here's something: I filled out my renewal FAFSA for school next year, and apparently I'm supposed to contribute over $9000.00 for myself. So in other words, I should be self-sufficient enough to not need the goverment. But people who don't work get money thrown at them. At least some of them. I'm glad there is help out there for people who truly need it; I just wish I could be one of those people sometimes.

Enough whining. I'm tired of people whining. I'm tired of myself whining. I think I need to get away from myself for a couple days. I can create a character and play the role. Maybe I'll like it better than the real me.

wargasm, wargasm 1-2-3, tie a yellow ribbon 'round the amputee

Do you, dear readers, know the pressure I place on myself to keep you coming back?

I've been eating tainted peanut butter. Yes, I have a 2111 on my lid. Don't panic, faithful reader. I feel fine. After a foot of snow, did ConAgra Foods really think a nasty case of salmonella would keep me down? I feel like standing on a table yelling Sally Field-ish chants. I feel that good.

I've cut back on work hours again, so this post is also a call to action. I need money.

spinning spinning before i can recall all the unknown chemicals control the cycle

I finally started my homework that I should've started days ago. Finished a lab report on T-streaking, which sounds like something i'd like to do, but really have no interest in. I do have a lab buddy, though, whose name alone makes class exciting. She is a nursing student with the last name of Kill, which of course will make her Nurse Kill. I can sit for hours (with nothing better to do) imagining "Nurse Kill" being used in sentences in a clinical setting. In an abortion clinic: "Nurse Kill will be right with you." In the children's ward of a hospital: "Nurse Kill will be right with you." There are minor variations on the actual sentence; I mainly just come up with new situations, as you can read for yourself. "Nurse Kill will be assisting with your surgery today." "Hi, I'm Nurse Kill. Unfortunately your niece didn't make it through the night."

Well, it's late, and I still have to read about cell metabolism. As if I will really be able to concentrate now that I've gotten started on Nurse Kill dialogues again.

my bologna has a first name

A few days ago, I made myself a nice tator tot casserole. My stomach didn't think it was nice though. I spent all night very violently expelling it. It still hurts to take deep breaths. Apparently, my stomach thinks it's too good for the tot-erole. I guess you really can become less white trash-y. I've come a long way since the spam of my youth.