Sunday, February 26
I forgot which day it was, but it was either today or Saturday while at work I thought I saw Gene Simmons in Pier 1 Imports. Upon blinking once it turned out just being a fat woman with dark curly hair wearing all black. If he really did come to Pier 1 someday, I would've walked up to him and told him that he's a dickwad. KISS sucks.

If you take KISS seriously, I can't take you seriously. End of story. I think Axl Rose should take that into consideration, no? Actually, Bruce DICKinson should.

After work my family picked me up in the new car and we went for a half-hour drive up to Paramus to find a certain store. They knew it was closed, but we just went anyway, just for the fucking sake of owning a new car. Then they asked where I wanted to eat dinner. My mom offered to go to the Olive Garden, but when we got there it was an approximate 60-minute wait. Fuck that shit, fucker. I fucking hate Sundays. Go eat some other day, America. I haven't gone to a nice restaurant in months, cut me some fucking slack and spend those extra bucks on Jenny Craig or something.

So we ate at Charlie Brown's Steakhouse. The place sucked. The End.


Christina N. @ 9:11 PM