Saturday, July 24
Velvet Revolver means cock. Haha.

Victoria's Secret is the coolest store. It smells good and the fitting rooms are even more luxurious than my house itself. The only reason I agreed to go to the mall was to get a garlic pretzel at Auntie Anne's. And I got it. They are damn fucking good and they had so many samples on the counter that if my mom and sister weren't there I probably would've just taken the whole tray and ran away with it the speed of a crack addict having just seen a vile full of crack the size of Ricki Lake's ass.

Saw Vi and Christine there. Haven't seen them since school ended.

I am sad to say that I know absolutely nothing about Thin Lizzy. I hear about them from time to time, but I know nothing except that they're really good. This is a real fucking shame. Axl the puss was wearing a shirt that had their logo on it and reminds me that I must do more research and get WinMx. Sheesh.

Have to go New York tomorrow again. Wake up early and go, then to my dad's friend's boring party afterwards. Ew. I'm obsessive-compulsive and cannot stand dirty bathrooms. Maybe I'll bring this 500-page book on the Lizard King and finish it up completely there.

Ripped jeans feel good. They're airy and stuff and it doesn't matter how much you fuck them up because that's the goddamn point. Now ripped shirts, that's prostitution uniform. I used to know this girl who ripped her shirts where the bra strap would show and I'd be like, "What happened to your shirt?" and then she'd yell at me and say "IT WAS LIKE THAT, DUMBASS. DON'T YOU KNOW THAT IT'S THE STYLE?" Yeah right like I'm that much of a shithead and am gonna fall for it.


Christina N. @ 5:57 PM