Sunday, August 15
On the way to New York City, thy Nissan Maxima automobile passed this here Abercrombie and Fitch billboard. Thy male model on it beared absolutely no clothing to ye naked eye whatsover. It made ye question, "How will ye advertise thy clothing if ye have none clothing?" So is ye advertising for thy teenagers to bear no clothing? How proposterous!

Okay, enough with the bullshit talk. I had to use bullshit talk to describe bullshit clothing. If you didn't catch my drift, then you're a dumb chickenshit.

The ride there, before the pointless billboard, my mom didn't like the Michael Buble (no, it's not prounounced bubble, it's "boo-blay," know your broken french) that I picked out for her and my dad's trying to find good wedding music for the dad's wedding videography business. Well she wouldn't fucking like old men and the king of all pretty songs, Frank Sinatra, I decided to trick her into buying a young guy who sounded like him. Still didn't win her red blood pumper that she calls a heart. So, she puts in her new Cher cd. I think Cher sucks and should be banned from Christina's close personal space of a 5-mile radius. Putting on headphones and listening The Doors, it was extremely hard trying to listen to Jim Morrison's sexalicious creamy voice screaming "BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE!" and trying to imagine this gorgeous-spank-his-ass dude motioning like a divine god while hearing "If I could turn back time, *turkey gobble gobble*" coming from Bose System speakers in every direction of our midsize vehicle.

This time it took a while to get my medicine, because the store was crowded. Even worse, it was warm and muggy, one of my greatest fears. I deathly fear humidity because again I say, I am a crazed obsessive compulsive and humidity gives you a disgusting sweaty-hot-just-had-sex feeling but without the sex and the awesome feeling that you just had sex.

It was then decided that we go dine (but not dash) at a restaurant all the way down in one of the Plainfields. Extra long ride, but oh well. Food was mediocre. What a waste of time, but that's my specialty.

The ride back home, the sibling discovered her skin peeling from the sunburn in Pineapple Land Hawaii. Since some windows were open, as she was scratching the skinflakes off, they blew in the way of the wind towards me and it was quite disturbing. No one wants someone else's sunburned skin flakes stuck in their hair. At first I thought, "Are there flower trees around here or something? What's with the tiny pedals? Or snow? What the fuck?" Yeah, snow from Mt. Kelly Shouldn't Wear Sleeveless Shirts.


Christina N. @ 5:42 PM