Wednesday, January 25
I'd totally hit that shit.

That's as crazy and annoying as I could go in terms of expressing the stereotypical teenage girl dreamboat. Totally drooling over a celebrity of any sort and being a total fanatic, or shall I say, "fangirl," is absolutely immature and ridiculous. Get a fucking life. And mind that those words came from me, the biggest jerk and cold-hearted bitch in the world. Nobody cares if you and Tom Welling are meant to be together but "he just doesn't know it yet." Sure, I have my fetishes among celebrities, but it's really goddamn pointless to be a raging horny fanatic. There's only about 98.6% that you will not hook up with the person. And that fact alone makes me never give a flying fuck about anything, pretty much. I prefer to concentrate on people that I actually know. Fantasy worlds are for fucktards who are too much of a pussy to actually make it a reality. Go ahead, keep on dreaming, and keep on squealing like a hooker who never gets work.

Shit man, my mother arranged for me to have my wisdom teeth removed next fucking Saturday. What I'm nervous about is the pain, the extreme puffage that my face is going to have to swell, and the fact that I cannot eat solid food. Oh, and the "history repeats itself" aspect of this photo.

The good thing is, I get to miss about two days of school, to only sit around all day at home and eat all the ice cream that I want and watch Natural Born Killers for as many times as I want. I could watch as many fucked up movies that I want and as often as I want, so that the agony and pain in those movies could make up for the pain that I would be suffering at the same time. Basically, I'd be back to the scumbag life that I'd loved so much (up to a certain length of time), except that I wouldn't be able to eat the delectable treats that I usually would always stuff my mouth with, like a vaccuum cleaner at a hick house after the exterminator paid the house a visit.

I'd also miss a day of work, but that doesn't matter too much.

Whenever I see Monk on TV, I fucking laugh. Especially during the commercials, opening credits, and previews. Why? Because Detective Monk and I are both obsessive compulsives. Today in computer art, I'd had enough of the dirty mouse and keyboard, and the dust and skinflakes that would always accompany it on the table in front of and around the keyboard and mouse. So, I took my foaming hand sanitizer, sprayed some on a tissue, and started cleaning off the mouse and keyboard. I didn't give a shit if I was pressing buttons and causing all sorts of chaos on the computer. I had to get that shit fucking clean.


Christina N. @ 5:40 PM