Merry Masochistic Christmas
Rather than being like all the other posers who off themselves on Christmas, I decided to just be a little masochistic, but I'm running out of self-torture ideas. Until at 5:30 AM today I decided to go on the treadmill for forty minutes on the "fat burner plus" routine or whatever. Now, I've never worked out before in my life. Ever. I've never gone running for the hell of it, and I've only gone to the gym to swim when high this summer. That's it. Christ Almighty (Happy observed b-day JC), I don't know if I love it or hate it. Well, I know I hate it. God(dess), it was awful, and I had a Clearchannel Radio pop station to serenade me on my 4 mph decent into Hell. Russ said if I work out, I'll get endorphins, which are like heroin. As of right now, I certainly don't feel like I've taken a hit of smack. I'm just smelly and in pain. But it was masochist, which is what I was going for. Along with my no drugs, no drinking, no cigarettes kick. Clearly, I've lost all sense of rationality.
Last night during a "discussion" about my future, I told my father I was a lesbian anarchist. Is this true or false? I'm not even sure myself. I just figured it would make the news that I want to be a professional bohemian easier to swallow.
Last night during a "discussion" about my future, I told my father I was a lesbian anarchist. Is this true or false? I'm not even sure myself. I just figured it would make the news that I want to be a professional bohemian easier to swallow.