"Freedom of that sort was worth thousands of cigarettes."
Dear Diary,
I’m going to be fickle, wish-washy, and back ‘n forth between liking this boy and thinking up elaborate campaigns to force him to stop dating me. He’s short, cute, a little flamey, charming and gorgeous. He’s overly nice, and we read the same books. Because I’m afraid of relationships, of course I’m stuck between holding his hand and panicking toward impossible exists. In the end it just comes down to me being basically scared.
Note to self, being out of a relationship and not being a slut makes your sexual skills a little dull around the edges. I need to work on my deep throating technique, does anyone know a giraffe?
Funniest livejournal goes to ilovecoolio . Read the latest update if you appreciate a good chuckle.
So my friends axed my plans for Zaphods on Friday and have decided to take me to On Tap (aka On Crap) (aka On Rape) for my Birthday instead. [I’m being forced to trade class for ass] Chris thinks it will be “funnier” because I hate it there and feel harebrained boogying to hip hop. I don’t care how well any of you ass-hats rumba! All you white kids’ll be fucked when it’s time to raise da roof. On Tap is the epitome of my theory that straight men try to look horrible on the dance floor because it establishes their masculinity.
I’ll try to counter the decision with a move to the Whiskey Bar where I’ll sit smashed in the corner and appreciate my sharp army jacket to myself.
If you go on a date with someone who’s married, does that still count as a date? I’m not asking for me, I’m asking for a friend. Honestly.
I celebrated my Birthday with the immediate family today. Maybe I mentally demand too much from my siblings but today I wish there was a baby seal around so I could have bashed its head in to get any response from them. Holidays are becoming mechanic and dry as of late. Even my little sister is out of juice. Perhaps this is the day I start my own career of anarchism.
Sometimes there is no such thing as between the lines. Sometimes what you say is what you mean, with no deception or rules and one is just looking for someone to smile back. I know when I’ve overstepped my boundaries and I apologize for the footprints left behind. The next time I invade a yard, I’ll take advice from Omar Epps, “When you break into someone’s house always have a white chick with you.”
Ignore this last paragraph if it does not apply. Periodically I’m self-centered and assume the universe revolves around me.
Tonight I ran around with Lynne trying to get some of her important forms in. The mission: to find an envelope, a pen, and a pawn. I had my big van, christened “Beastor the She-Van.” Lynne and I raced around downtown and after completing the mission we returned to the ESD for French toast and poutine.
When I was very young, my Mother used to put me to bed by telling me everyone I knew was asleep. “Grandma is asleep. Your sister is asleep. Big Bird is asleep.” Now, as I go to bed, I wonder- not who’s asleep, but who’s awake and what they’re think on their own rumpled pillow.
Ryan