December 30th, 2001


you're been struck by a smooth criminal.

i am tired.

i am tired, my hands are feeling the effects of being a chamber bartender, i have a headache the size of montana.

and i hate.

i hate this entire collective of retarded jackasses we call mother earth.

if i could, i'd line em all up and embed my boot in their faces. the ass? naw, not this time. i wanna do some damage.


i have a right to this hate. let me have it.

migod, you really fucking suck.

just dont breed, allright? it makes those of us that are on the upper end of the food chain work that much higher to overpopulate you.
  • Current Mood
    crappy crappy


if my apartment weren't such a big mess, it would be quite homey right now. its toasty, i have football on the tv.

WHY i'm having such trouble to motivate myself to clean i have no clue.

but i'm cozy so i dont care.
  • Current Mood

the punk rock speedway.

i bet YOU dont get this when you walk into the gas station:

"hey! you've got PANTS on this time!"
and i think only pseudogod will know why. heehee.

it turns out that old redheaded lady (not the one that loves my outfits, the other one) is my neighbor. she lives in A, i live in B. her uncle has been living here foe 28 years. he's the one always walking his little white fluffy yap dog.

i live in a retirement comunity. dont forget water aerobics every tuesday.

both the redheaded lady and the lady that likes my outfits want to check out the chamber.

they all want to check out the chamber.