where god would come if he had to stop doing blow
sweet, gentle jebus, things are mighty strange around this neck of the woods. i spent the entire day after the phish concert wandering around in what felt like a dream, then the next day, while trying to get to southern new hampshire to babysit, i ended up in northern vermont. i blame this incident on a combination of marijuana, lack of sleep, too much sleep, and my natural, lovable fucking dumbass self. oh shit. i'm such a fucking idiot. the woman i babysit for, millicent, waited at the bus station for about 4 hours before freaking out and calling the line to make sure everything was ok, cause i couldn't reach her, then when i actually did, she flipped her shit. understandably. after a huge string of adventures involving phish loving hippies, the coventry show, new friends who built a clay oven, and a very kind bus driver, i managed to get back to new hampshire around 10 pm. i was supposed to get there 11 hours earlier.
so it goes.
anywho, tim&millicent proceded to liquor me up every night before they left me alone with their two young children. at their insistance (i said nothing and just politely drank what was poured for me), i had a minimum of 5 glasses of wine and several daquiris, slash whiskey, slash scotch (saturday night complete with a cigar -- we got SO fuckin classy, oh my god) every night. i thought i'd be working my ass of up in new hampshire, but holy shit, this couple knows how to party. even millicent, who is 9 months pregnant and due in a week, got hammered and had a cigar. poor fetus. when me and the random 25 year old crew got really shitfaced saturday night we went swimming in the ice cold lake around 2 am. it was quite an adventure. i had no fuckin idea babysitting could be that much fun.
perhaps the strangest event of all was to return home to find none but consuela sitting on the kitchen table. (for those of you living under a rock with your fingers in your ears, consuela is my piece.) yep, my mom found consuela and just under an 8th of pot in my room. i was kinda sad when i saw it sitting there, cause i figured i'd probably die, but -- this is the crazy part -- SHE'S GIVING IT BACK TO ME. oh shit. who woulda thought. my mom. she's ok with me smoking pot. what the flying fuck.
anywho. chilled with ben today. normally i'd just blow him off, considering he calls me fucking like 5 times a day every day, but then i thought to myself that i should give him a chance, and i could use the action. but then in his room, on his bed, i just kept quoting green day, of all bands, in my head: "you can't go forcing something if it's just not right." and a-fucking-men. 6 months ago i woulda just said fuck it and gone through with everything, not that it's anything new, but i think i've grown up a lot. and definitely gained a lot more self respect in the process. so i made him drive me home, and if it wasn't for modest mouse, that would have been the most awkward 20 minutes of my life. i guess i'm just sick of fucking meaningless shit like that, cause in the end, it only really leaves you more empty than when you started. it kinda drains you a little of yourself. i'm just desperate for something real.
oh my god i sound like such a little emo bitch, i need to be slapped.
my mom is sharing my room while my sister's boyfriend is here and it's weird. i'm going to bed. good night.
i really like reading, and the doors are my favorite band.
so it goes.
anywho, tim&millicent proceded to liquor me up every night before they left me alone with their two young children. at their insistance (i said nothing and just politely drank what was poured for me), i had a minimum of 5 glasses of wine and several daquiris, slash whiskey, slash scotch (saturday night complete with a cigar -- we got SO fuckin classy, oh my god) every night. i thought i'd be working my ass of up in new hampshire, but holy shit, this couple knows how to party. even millicent, who is 9 months pregnant and due in a week, got hammered and had a cigar. poor fetus. when me and the random 25 year old crew got really shitfaced saturday night we went swimming in the ice cold lake around 2 am. it was quite an adventure. i had no fuckin idea babysitting could be that much fun.
perhaps the strangest event of all was to return home to find none but consuela sitting on the kitchen table. (for those of you living under a rock with your fingers in your ears, consuela is my piece.) yep, my mom found consuela and just under an 8th of pot in my room. i was kinda sad when i saw it sitting there, cause i figured i'd probably die, but -- this is the crazy part -- SHE'S GIVING IT BACK TO ME. oh shit. who woulda thought. my mom. she's ok with me smoking pot. what the flying fuck.
anywho. chilled with ben today. normally i'd just blow him off, considering he calls me fucking like 5 times a day every day, but then i thought to myself that i should give him a chance, and i could use the action. but then in his room, on his bed, i just kept quoting green day, of all bands, in my head: "you can't go forcing something if it's just not right." and a-fucking-men. 6 months ago i woulda just said fuck it and gone through with everything, not that it's anything new, but i think i've grown up a lot. and definitely gained a lot more self respect in the process. so i made him drive me home, and if it wasn't for modest mouse, that would have been the most awkward 20 minutes of my life. i guess i'm just sick of fucking meaningless shit like that, cause in the end, it only really leaves you more empty than when you started. it kinda drains you a little of yourself. i'm just desperate for something real.
oh my god i sound like such a little emo bitch, i need to be slapped.
my mom is sharing my room while my sister's boyfriend is here and it's weird. i'm going to bed. good night.
i really like reading, and the doors are my favorite band.