Sunday, May 8
"Holiday." Horrible, horrible fucking song. The sibling always watches the goddamn video on television, which for her is always on near to maximum volume. And we don't have a very large house. In addition to that, it's a ranch house so everything echoes throughout that one single level. Fuck Green Day.

I need to stop listening to Incubus at night. It drives me mad and makes me think scary and weird things. Which is a good thing in a typical sense, but not good when I start to think too deeply while in bed and I either start to scare myself or trigger one of those Sunday nightmares.

Like today. The trip was a fucking disaster once we pulled up to the front of the museum entrance. There was this large red and white sign that read:

DALI TICKETS SOLD OUT TODAY

Stupid fucking Gwar listeners. Every single one of them. Every single lucky thinkforyourselfer who ordered a weekend ticket ahead of time. Stupid thinkforyourselfers who spend their entire fucking lives rushing to be the first ones to get a ticket for some exhibit four months prior to the fucking event. I'm fucking jealous, that's what. And it's kind of lame that the website didn't include the availability of tickets, only saying in bold, "Tickets are subject to availability." What the fuck is that supposed to tell us? Not enough info, stupid bitch.

I don't want to talk about it anymore. And don't give me that lame fucking consolation, "I'm sorry." What the fuck do you have to be sorry for? You didn't have a single damn thing to do with this. So don't even think about saying that. Or even any other time that I am at a bad loss. Don't say you're sorry if you didn't do anything at all. It just sounds real fucking dumb.

They are completely sold out for every upcoming weekend until the exhibit is over. I'm determined to negotiate a weekday trip with my folks, which is going to be very difficult considering our schedules, but I'm determined to get my ample dose of squiggly clocks and giant heads.


Christina N. @ 11:09 PM