One o'clock in the morning. I'm not tired, not tired at all. I don't think I should watch any Denis Leary right now because that would put me in a bad position. If you know what I mean.
I felt like such a redneck today, sitting on the deck on the quintessential lawn chair looking at trees and stuff while eating vanilla oreos and drinking water out of a plastic cup on a sweltering warm day. Wearing ugly shorts and a big t-shirt that I wiped my nasty face on and made brown marks on it, with sandals that are three sizes too big. Added to that, I was listening to Ted Nugent. He cracks me up with his "Nashville pussy" talk. I feel sorry for the neighbors though, being that the ones who live next door are very old and very traditional.
Had I been eating beef jerky and drinking Jack and wearing my aviators, I would've gotten it right on the ball.
My mother made me wax her car and vacuum the interior, so that was my break. It was hard work but that good ol' typical asian rice got me lots of carbs in my stomach and lots of energy to bust out.
The Victoria's Secret clothes that came in the mail today look quite damn good. Now Saturday must come because that is when I will actually go out, to Monica's sweet sixteen party. Full of folks that I am not really fond of anymore, but hey I get to wear my new material. Whenever one gets new clothing, one must wear it as soon as possible. It's a female (and a certain number of males) law.
Yesterday when riding in the car to the Rag Shop, there was this middle aged man in a convertible stopped by our car at the red light. He was booming his crappy bump-and-grind music really loud, we could hear it through our closed windows nice and clear. He had a bushy brown mustache and ugly, ugly crew cut-type hair doo. I didn't want to look, but from the corner of my eye I could tell he was checking me out. How horrid. I wanted to take a dump on his chest and punch him continually in the neck. And wax that caterpillar-like mustache off with lucite strips. Then maybe shoot acid at his balls with a super soaker.
It was funny nonetheless. I kept laughing inside and tried not to because then my mom would start getting nosy. She probably wouldn't want to talk about anything as provocative as that in front of her own mother which was in the car with us.
That's right, the younger sister, the mom, and the mom's mom were in the car to go to the Rag Shop. It was a shopping trip to various places to get various things. So we're not that cheap. Or that asian, to put it in other words. I have nothing better to do anyway.
My entries have really been less than par lately. I've just gone blank and cannot secrete anything from my mind to even make myself chuckle like a beaver. It is terribly sad.
Who agrees that Billy Corgan looks like that mummy custard on that old Disturbed album?
Christina N. @ 1:35 AM
