Thursday, February 23
Whenever I think about that last scene in Ghost when Patrick Swayze is walking away from a crying Demi Moore away into the light, I fucking crack up. I mean, come on, it's Patrick Swayze. To Wong Foo!

I haven't washed my hair in three days. And trust me, it is more hideous than your dog's asshole after five days running away from home. Thank god for hair ties. Tomorrow me, my cousin and company are going shopping at Willowbrook. I shall shower tonight. Fuck water, man. It only touches my mouth when I drink it from a cup. That's why you'll never see me at the beach either. Water and salt? I'm not a Keith Richards; I don't need my blood to be drained. Fuck that, whenever I get back from the beach I end up looking like a filipino. Except without the shortness. Or more like a zebra, because I don't go to nude beaches. As a matter of fact, 60% of America's population shouldn't be near any beach at all because I think statistics say that 60% of americans are obese. Or maybe it's 40%. Or maybe I'm not even close at all. Whatever, but the number is pretty fucking high up there.

For example:

This was one day after going to the beach. I'm the big one who looks like she's about to jam that Heineken can down your throat and watch beer gurgle out of your mouth.

This is a filipino kid.


Christina N. @ 5:03 PM