Tuesday, June 28
I guess it's time for one of those late late night entries. Nighttime is such a hatching place for ideas and thinking. Which sometimes I don't like because I start to feel guilty and regret shit that I have done.

You know what? Fuck this, I'm tired. And I'm scared to go to the doctor's tomorrow because my mom would start getting up my ass about reminding me to tell the doctor about all these weird loogies I've been coughing up and this odd tumor-like thing on my arm. The bullshit thing about doctors is that they're always on a rush and never really listen to what you have to say, no matter how serious you are about it. I don't care if my doctor is hot, he better get my shit fixed. As opposed to my last doctor who looked like Dick Cheney but was not a very understanding guy.

Even my mom thinks the new doctor is cute. How funny is that.

Man, the worst thing about check-ups is the vagina inspection part. But that's a childhood thing, I think I'm too old for that now.

The opening riff in "Thunderstruck" is fucking awesome. It just drives you into the goddamn song so powerfully (which fits perfectly with the song title) despite the horrible image of a shirtless Bon Scott. That man's nipples are too low on his chest and his teeth were too sparse at one point. The chest hair is like a bunch of pubes stuck to the chest by chicken grease. And his hair, it's like he stuck his head into a sink gargler thing in the drain. I forgot what it's called.


Christina N. @ 2:12 AM