REAL ACNE MEDICINE

BITCH, PUH-LEASE.

Carrie texted me recently with the following threat (probably knowing it would be/intending it to be posted on here, THAT SNEAKY GIRL):

"If you don't blog soon I'm going to shove knives in your cunt like you need an exorcism"

Well Carrie, I met some hottie, and that's what we did last night! Zing!!

(I'M IMPLYING I'M INTO KNIVES IN MY VAGINA, IF YOU DIDN'T CATCH THAT)

Soon I will post a detailed narrative of my oh so exciting trip to Scottsdale, Arizona AKA if the San Fernando Valley had it's own suburb and that suburb was very much in touch with it's South Western roots, embracing them to the point of being a creepy adobe desert village.

UNRELATED but important: Thoughts on the new blog look.

Carrie, our resident computer nerd, redesigned the site. I can't decide if I like it better with a white background or a black one, because I feel like it is hard to read. But maybe my eyes are bad? It's possible, because I actually medically would benefit from a monocle.

Also, maybe I'm racist.

So, A SURVEY:

a.) You're TOTALLY right, your eyes aren't like an old person's, this white font is HARD

b.) You're racist

c.) It's racist to say not liking black is racist

d.) Even though you DID make that stunning pic available to the public, why did Carrie have to go a choose a cute cromagnon picture of herself so the "little cafe kid" looks even MORE retarded?

e.) And did carrie stretch out your picture a little too?

f.) Did that text message really just mean that Carrie wants to fuck me?

g.) Remember when you couldn't fall asleep so you were coming up with this survey? Well, you forgot everything you were going to say and this isn't nearly as funny and now you look like an asshole.

h.) All of the above.

i.) What's wrong with being racist??

I DON'T CARE. FUCK YOU ALL. I HAVE SCABS ON MY EYES.

yo ho ho & a bottle of cum

mmmk so once I was a waitress at a nice Italian restaurant and since I live in the same town as Bam Margera and the restaurant was right by a movie theater, he and his cumguzzling wife (not to be confused with Sarah Bliss -- she is a cumdumpster, not a cumguzzler) came in to eat before seeing a movie. I was their waitress. they both ordered bowls of spaghetti, which was the cheapest thing on the menu, they didn't order drinks, they didn't say thank you to me when I brought their food, and they left me a 10% tip, which I think was about 3 dollars. fuck that.

I think that was the same night during which my boss told me to fuck off, which made me start crying in front of customers as I was taking their orders because I was so upset and because my boss wouldn't let me cry in front of him or take a few minutes to go to the bathroom to compose myself. I love being humiliated. fuck that.

"I have to pee, but I want to masturbate, and I want to masturbate, but I have to pee." fuck that

I puked tonight and it tasted like lime - delish

Well, it's 5:36 a.m. and I've certainly got no better place to be than right here! This was supposed to be the MOST PRODUCTIVE MONTH OF MY LIFE and here is a list of the things I had planned to accomplish before going abroad with notes as to my progress, in no particular order:

Get in the habit of drinking like 4 liters of water per day to be healthier and help clear up my skin (NO), re-establish at least a skeletal friendship with the 5 or 6 girls from high school with whom I've lost touch and have nothing in common with so that they don't hate me and so that I continue to receive invitations to their social gatherings via Facebook and maybe go to their weddings eventually where there will be free booze (NO), make a mix CD for my sister that includes Lauryn Hill's "To Zion" (NO), call the receptionist at my friend's dad's medical office to see if I can work for a few days filing medical records like I did last winter break (NO), transfer everything on my computer to my external hard drive and then reformat my computer (NO), e-mail the woman from the study abroad program to make sure it's still okay that I come to Paris despite the fact that I didn't attend numerous "mandatory" meetings that were held during finals (NO), get really good at yoga (HELL NO), stop smoking (SORT OF! 2 DAYS AND GOING STRONG), pay bills that are overdue (NO *STILL NEED MONEY*), revamp resume and cover letter (NO), e-mail potential boss for this summer (NO), apply for summer jobs once potential boss for this summer flakes or says his company can no longer afford to hire me (NO), transfer Internet and utilities accounts to roommates' names (NO), learn the history and geography of Paris by heart (NO), learn to speak French again (NO), watch movies in French (NO), replace the battery in my computer (NO), spend some time outdoors (NOT REALLY), develop normal sleeping habits (DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A YES TO YOU?), learn to like Bob Dylan's music (NO), get laid (HAHA JUST KIDDING), develop a clothing line (NO), think of ideas for concept albums (NO), spend more time in the city of brotherly love (NO), write better blog entries (NO).

I have 11 days yet! I can do it!!!!!! Marika is in Arizona. Why?

Prozac Gaytion

THIS IS MY COPY OF PROZAC NATION
THIS IS A STRETCH OF GRASS IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
THIS IS MY COPY OF PROZAC NATION LYING IN A STRETCH OF GRASS IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
GUESS I'LL GO TO HARVARD AND GET REALLY FUCKED UP ON DRUGS AND SEX AND WRITE A BOOK ABOUT IT AND MAKE MILLS OF $ BC I'M DEPRESSED ABOUT MY COPY OF PROZAC NATION LYING IN A STRETCH OF GRASS IN SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS