Sunday, September 10
So I was at my dad's friend's house yesterday, and the guy's brother's son asks me if he could prank phone call my stalker again. Of course he could!

We call the dumbass son of a bitch and he still fucking answers the phone when my number shows up on the caller ID? From all the shit that we did to him a couple of weeks ago, he still answers it to get the same exact verbal abuse? Webster, I think I have an update to the definition of "retard." I let the kid spit and talk about pizza for a good few minutes [twice] until I thought that maybe, maybe, if the stalker somehow had at least two brain cells emerge out of his brain tissue, would call the popos on me. And trust me, I've had enough cop action this summer.

I was talking to one of my friends on Friday for the entire duration of gym class, because for the first couple of classes or so, the only thing you are required to do is sit on the bleachers and socialize. We were talking about acid and smoking and how once you get a tracheotomy it's your badge of honor, and once you achieve your badge of honor you could smoke like two fucking cigarettes at the same time. Then he said something so weird that I will never forget: "I want to smoke with my nipples."

Then we talked about the more beautiful things in life. Like Gwar.


Christina N. @ 7:20 PM