Monday, January 1
I am sleepy as hell, motherfucker. This has got to be the most lamest of lame New Year's ever; but then again, I don't really care. It's just a new date. New numbers that I have to date my papers with. There's no new beginning for me, there's no new promises - you know why? Because unlike the rest of the pathetic population, I know that I will not keep my promises. I'll probably eventually grow out of that belief of wanting to accomplish it anyway. Such as...being nice to people of the same ethnic background. Motherfucks are so oblivious.

So for tonight, none of my friends or acquaintances gave a fuck, so I had absolutely no plans. One person's high as a kite, the other is locked in their house being forced to play board games and spend "quality time" with their parents; and well everyone else, they have a much more progressive life than I do. But sometimes I really do like slouching around like a nobody. Such as tonight. After six-year-old Mary left my house with her parents (my parents' friends), I finally had an opportunity to do what the hell that I wanted without having been asked a million questions about it.

Eating was out of the question. As much as my birth control-induced appetite was just screaming and aching for me stuff my face even more, my watermelon-like belly wouldn't allow it. Computer? No, that is the lowest of the lowest activities to do on New Year's Day when you are 17 years old. TV? Traditional, but it's not as sad as clogging up my bountiful mind with even more Mike Patton shit over the internet. When your desktop wallpaper is of a particular person, place or thing, you know you've got a problem. But anyway, since I hate showering and doing the usual hygienic bullshit that everybody has to do before going to bed, I decided to skip that tonight and go straight to the Nothing Hobby.

It is really quite terrible thing when you have to wake up early to go out for lunch for a friend's birthday and then go to work the next day - I watched the Faith No More double-disc DVD on fucking rotation until I fell in and out of sleep and my mother had to come upstairs from partying with her friends in the basement to tell me to fucking go to bed. No dude, you don't interrupt my FNM moment right there. I don't care if my eyes are closed, my ears are still wide fucking open. ("Wide fucking open" I cannot help but think of Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction. God, that shit is just too funny to pass up!) I can't help but giggle and laugh and chuckle like a fat fucking bastard whenever Mike Patton sticks the microphone in his ass, says to the audience, "LISTEN!" farts this amazing on-cue of a gas leakage, and says, "It was real."

Yesterday after work, a couple of co-worker buddies and I tried getting into the porn shop across the road from where we work. It's this crumby-ass looking cubic purple building called "Cupid's Treasures," and there's signs everywhere that say you have to be 21 and older in order to enter. People have told us that no one gives a flying fuck if you are underage - you could still walk in. Well, bitchass fucktard wouldn't let us in. I think it was because Joshlynn yelled at Sinead to take off her varsity jacket while we were still outside, and the fat bitch clerk was watching the entire thing from the window. Shitface, don't tell me that. Just ask for my ID and since I don't have one, I'll leave. And then this old man walked out with a weird grin or look or whatever the hell it was on his face that he called an expression, while looking at us.

Have you ever pissed foggy piss? That's scary.


Christina N. @ 2:20 AM