Saturday, August 27
Yesterday morning I watched a movie where Denis Leary smashed a guy's face in with a toaster. It was quite funny and I laughed a few good calories off. I'd like to get the DVD just so I can watch that guy's face being branded with a bread cooker over and over and over until I get hungry for toast. Then after I'm done making the toast I'll sit down and watch it again.

Earlier today when I was taking a shit, I hear my grand uncle in the kitchen telling my mom that he and hsi son were going for a walk to Shop Rite and asked if me or the sibling wanted to go. My mom replied, "Nah, we like to stay home and hang around the house." What a load of bullshit. I don't like staying home for days on end. I know that, she knows that. This was also a good chance to bond and try to take down my rigid wall of silence. So I shit as fast I could, pulled my trousers on, washed my hands, and to my extreme disappointment, they'd left already. I told her how much I wanted to go, my dad overheard and called my uncle on his cellphone. I changed as fast as I could, and speedwalked down the street to see my grand uncle with his hand on his heart showing how good he felt that I wanted to come along.

So the three of us went to Shop Rite looking for a 1-Hour Photo place, but there wasn't one. Then to Dunkin' Donuts where I saw Eric Kane for the first time in ages working there so that was pretty damn cool. Walked home, here I am.

I'm not sure if my uncle, who's 23 and looks the same age as I am, has an english name. But I fucking swear that that his vietnamese name translates to the word "bottle." It's either I'm fucking dumb and heard it wrong, or there's another synonym for some other word. Or maybe it really does mean "bottle," but some kind of special bottle from ancient vietnamese folklore that I don't know about.


Christina N. @ 3:58 PM