Boston is a wonderful city. I'm seriously considering living there someday. Once I get the money, that is. When we first drove into the city, it was like a utopia. I'm always used to the dingy shitastic slums of New York, and seeing Boston is like, well, a fucking utopia. It was quite beautiful, the people were nice, the shopping is amazing, and there's a hot piece of ass around every goddamn corner. Of course I would never want to leave. We stayed for two days.
I did quite a bit of shopping at Newbury Street, which concludes why I'm fucking dead broke at this moment. There was a hemp store called Hempest, where I bought a pocketbook/clutch/purse/whateverthefuck. The dude who works there is a total stoner and for some reason kept watering the plants outside the store. Not sure if this is a coincidence or not (probably not), but part of the change that he gave back to me was a $2 bill with a green stamp stamped beside Thomas Jefferson's mouth was him saying, "I grew hemp." I fucking laughed my ass off and wished I could frame the bill but I can't spare the money to purchase a frame right now.
Pier 1 is clearly not paying me enough and they should go shove their overpriced furniture and wicker baskets up their ass. I hope they get more splinters than a porcupine. It's true, they really aren't paying me enough. I might go apply at Dick's [Sporting Goods] just for the fucking hell of it, because we all know I love Dick's.
Best Buy would be a pretty cool job because I could actually use the discount over there. I don't need no fucking furniture. My room is smaller than a nice bathroom. But you might have to be eighteen to work there. Fucking douche.
Life is not too great, because I'm tired of my parents' indiscrepancies and their constant underestimating me, therefore barking at me like you would to an inmate or some crap. So we're not much on speaking terms anymore. I'm not allowed to leave the house except for work, and I pretty much have absolutely no one to talk to, except to Shaina and Lauren who call me on occasion. Everyone else just has their own fucking business to do. On days that I don't work, all I do is eat, watch TV, and do boring shit in my room for hours upon hours, waiting for my insanity clock to tick and my head explodes out of boredom, crankiness, and failure.
This lack of communication with everybody is affecting my ability to socialize. I find myself edging away from many situations and even casual conversations are hard to keep going because I don't have single fucking thing to say - nothing happens in my life. Talking to cashiers and retail associates in stores is difficult also. Insecurity is taking over like a fucking plague. Oh yeah, it definitely sucks balls. Because this type of action commonly leads to your peers' loss of interest in you and this isn't entirely my fault. My folks need to get a 10-inch nail fucking hammered into their skulls just to get their minds open.
Yeah, motherfucker. I have tremendous patience if I could stand this shit for that long. While in Boston, my folks were too fucking cheap to stay at a better hotel so we stayed at The Red Roof Inn and my dad's snoring was absolutely, fucking painful. The constant rhythm of nasal agony throbbed and bounced back and forth between my ears inside my skull like a tennis game. I couldn't fucking take it. And then for some reason I had a sudden burst of energy, woke up at 4:00AM and couldn't sleep anymore. It was my worst case of insomnia to date. So I just lay there for four fucking hours, waiting for everyone else to get up and fucking get ready. It was pretty horrible. The room was rather small in size, and there was nothing to do outside of the hotel so I was stuck.
There's a show on Friday that I'd really like to go to, but still haven't found the guts or imaginary balls to ask my mother. According to her, I've either been oddly quiet for no reason, or that she knows that I've got something wrong going on and I don't know, either way she'd probably say no. But, I also have the plus side of not having seen any of my friends since school ended and I have to give Lauren her birthday present. It's way too long fucking overdue.
In other news, my birthday is next week, on Thursday. I'll be seventeen and I don't really give a flying fuck because I haven't done anything (nor am I that much allowed to) with my life. I at least should have gotten my permit by now so I could get my license sooner. Well, that hasn't even started yet. For some reason, about 90% of my friends (which isn't a very large population) are older than me, and whenever I think of my birthday, I remember how much older everyone is than me. Kind of odd. It's probably because I'm perhaps one of the few within this age range who realizes that most shits below this age group are really shits.
Christina N. @ 9:31 PM
