ennui.
the two party system is so petty and makes me want to vomit. honestly, my nephew would do a better job in his escalade/snake t-shirt, sitting at the table with me, playing scrabble. none of us are growing up, we just use bigger words in our disputes. i'm not excluded from this discussion. that thing about freudian ambivilance is the only thing making damn sense these days.
you know, no one ever wrote a song about me, but i got kind of close in positivamente and possibly "cementary". "cementary" is so pretty it makes me cry. i get so choked up at "...between february and march" because i can feel my heart breaking. i don't think i ever want a song written about me. i'm glad i'm not paula sparks. for more reasons than one. unless it's about tapioca balls all over my body and tits.
i used to hate the word tits, but i've reformed.
p.s. i'm sick of looking at myself. so this is the "sick of looking at myself" contest. draw/paint/collage/whatever your most awesome rendering of me and post it in a comment. for all you people who keep going "oh ashley don't be sad, blah blah blah. what can i do?" well, here's your shot! make me happy!
you know, no one ever wrote a song about me, but i got kind of close in positivamente and possibly "cementary". "cementary" is so pretty it makes me cry. i get so choked up at "...between february and march" because i can feel my heart breaking. i don't think i ever want a song written about me. i'm glad i'm not paula sparks. for more reasons than one. unless it's about tapioca balls all over my body and tits.
i used to hate the word tits, but i've reformed.
p.s. i'm sick of looking at myself. so this is the "sick of looking at myself" contest. draw/paint/collage/whatever your most awesome rendering of me and post it in a comment. for all you people who keep going "oh ashley don't be sad, blah blah blah. what can i do?" well, here's your shot! make me happy!