Tuesday, January 31, 2012

6 days till Waikiki

Do people think you are really nice? I mean like, sooper dooper way too fucking nice so they are going to teach you a lesson by taking advantage of you, shitting all over everything, touching your motherfucking mis en place and asking you to make them food when you are FUCKING BUSY and then.... As it turns out they had this huge quinoa salad anyway? WHY ARE SO CHEAP AND WHY DO WANT TO EAT ALL OF VEGETARIAN LASAGNA FOR FREE. Why are you trying to control me and why do think I  am so fucking nice.   
I am almost, 110% a huge CUNT.    
Just because you haven't seen my face of disdain and disgust and hatred yet, does NOT mean it does not exist.  In fact, you are lucky and should be counting your blessed fucking stars that you haven't seen it yet because you would melt into a sphere of fear and remorse, coated Ina thin film of the sticky bronzer you wear.  
YOu would cease to resist in the alternate reality that is the fucking kitchen.   
Plus, it has been 34 days since I have had sex.  
Watch out. 


Tuesday, January 17, 2012

So you decided to buy some lacy underthings even though! You are single! Good choices.

The best thing about spending a bijillion dollars on lacy underwear is that moment when you've put it all on, every bra and thong at the same time. You're sitting on your bed, poking your thighs deciding if you should even bother standing up to grab headphones so you can fall blissfully away into unawareness listening to the kooks, or if you should try crying and masturbating to your roommates current song choice, holiday inn. At the hotel motel wah wah. You choose headphones because,  shitty dance music from several years ago. So there you are, alone, laying down, mascara smudged all over your cheek and pillowcase.  You are a new shade of desperate today.  As your body prepares itself to start bleeding as womens bodies do, and in underwear that nobody cares about, will see, want torip off with their teeth, throw across the room, park, car.  As your phone lays beside you, lifeless cool silver whose function as a bootycall receptor has become defunct. As your roommate switches to smooth jazz and your iPod dies, charger out of reach, as your body changes shape and function, clothes eroding and reappearing, as you stretch and expand, as the cool smooth stream of gin and beer and vodcrans trickles its way inside of you, altering your insides. as your liver and heart, hand in hand with your moral composition transform into something new, leaving the archaic ideal of health as a distant memory.  As the cats, the  cloying and putrid liveliness of the cats, breeding and dying around you.  As you turn 32, you remain this way, alone.  

Monday, January 9, 2012

Why do people even GET excited about sex. You're just alone in the end.

2012-01-08 One thing I love about Vancouver..... My boobs are small enough to go to a bar and drink alone without being harassed by the ever insistent, perineal variety of douchenozzles that are rampant on these mean streets At least they are local though right?

Jacob and I broke upsies....... Alone again.

Have 29 days till Hawaii which leaves no time for the necessary opulence of emotional eating. Hate boys. Roommates leaving.

PLUS I think that, perhaps, there is a ghost in my room. My lamp keeps turning on and off every time I shift on my bed. I would rather deal with a ghost than the imminent danger of electrocution which is probably the case I should face...... But seriously why acknowledge my problems when I can pretend they are not even fucking there?

Like why IT ENDED.

Liiiiiiiike.....I am a huge crabby patty today.