Sunday, April 17
I hate it when I step on something and my foot starts bleeding. Because when your feet bleed, it is no nuisance like any other. Wherever you step, it looks like satan stamped his little "fuck you" happy pappy stamp on the floor wherever you go. Like teachers would have happy face stamps stamped on your paper, satan would have these little fuck you's. You know what, I don't know. This is lame.

Yeah so yesterday I had to go to my dad's friend's house and while watching TV I noticed something on my foot and the next thing I knew it was bleeding and I was partially handicapped. You know, it isn't as easy to walk with one normal foot and the other on its tip in a carpetted house that is fucking dirty and disgusting. Some bathmats in this world are so fluffy, curly, and dirty that they fucking look like long pelts of pubic hair with toilet paper stuck in their midst of wilderness. No matter what the color, it still fucking looks like pubic hair, because sometimes it's the other way around. It's that disgusting. Nobody wants their fucking face in that shit. Well with my bleeding foot and trying to walk around in that fucking house, my god was I terrified. That's why I fucking hate the asian tradition of taking your shoes off in every house you go in. It's okay for Britney Spears to walk into an unknown region known as a bathroom that isn't in your house, but for Christina it is like walking on a floor covered in Gwar albums.

School starts tomorrow. This means bagels for one dollar. Yippidy doo dah, I need to go shopping for a new bra. Actually, I don't. But it rhymes so it's just fine. I don't know whether I should look forward to it or not. Work isn't really my first priority so if you're thinking about homework and crap like that, well I don't give a fucking damn. I haven't really had anyone to talk to at all. Seeing friends again is what I'm talking about. But I hate B days, they could go suck a dry muffin and I wouldn't shed a complaint. We have another research paper for english class and I don't think I'm doing this one either. Everyone in my class keeps fucking with me and I can't get a single fucking source for my fucking research. So basically they just fucked my whole paper. Yeah, lame excuse but they make up 80% of it. The other 20% is me not wanting to. So what if it's on a great book such as The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger doesn't need anymore noses up his ass. So me not doing this paper does him good. Hopefully the teacher will see that I am right.

Sometimes I really wish that Denis Leary and I could go out for a burger, and laugh at all the fat fucks who pass by. Or rather, are trying to pass by.


Christina N. @ 8:25 PM