drinkin' couscous, snortin' forties.
yeah, fuckin robin trower jokes and shit.
i've been away a bit. not literally; i've actually probably maybe most likely spent more time laying in bed doing abso-fucking-lutely nothing but reading and watching movies with great 80's special effects than i have ever (except maybe that one time).
nay, since school has failed to provide me with quite factually no danged homework, i have devolved into oafdom. this is okay, but my caloric intake of malt liquor, radishes, couscous and coffee coupled with serious self imposed immobility is putting me in the family way. my two wheeled sojourns offer no succor.
i can't really go over the last two weeks or so in detail, because i don't remember most of it, i think. if i exerted myself, i might.
now, here's an interesting thought (or actually not, but you know). every time i've had to perform group work at school, i wind up in the quietest, least focused, least confident, most useless group out of the entire class. i wind up up de facto ad hoc leader because no shit no one else speaks, unless it is about their boyfriend or pants or, shit, i don't even know what the fuck these goddamned people are talking about. the one bitch just stares at the drop ceiling all period, like she's counting those fucking dots. i posit: is it the (non) luck of the draw that i am in these groups, or is it my presence in these groups that causes the silence. meanwhile, disparate groups of people create a din around us. what the dick.
i stopped drinking coffee before school on tuesdays and thursdays for a while, because this herpetic sarcocele of a sub-hume's disturbances and ejaculations during my math class pissed me off to the point of outburst and serious full scale kick-in-the-nuts-knee-to-the-face. i am typically very quiet in class, because, really, there is nothing to say to an indian math teacher with hips that won't quit. so i didn't break his awkwardly O shaped mouth wide open with the muscle covering my femur. i did, however, issue a firm verbal warning: "SHUT THE FUCK UP." spoken in my inside voice. this was effective for about no minutes, and then i got made fun of more than i have since high school. awesome. at least now i get knowing glances from the professor.
i actually summoned the fortitude to talk to this damn fine female in my sociology class the other day. walk up before class, "DO-YOU-HAVE-A-LIGHTER???" i know she smokes because i saw her do it. "yeah, sure." she gives me the lighter; it is a periwinkle bic. "thanks." lights shakily rolled cigarette, shakily because i had already smoked one four seconds ago before she came out of the building and also because i had been psyching myself up for this for years. takes a drag, "thanks." runs the fuck away. i need to go to school drunk so i won't shit myself in fear when dealing with six foot redheads.
ugh. in intolerably adorable news, i offered the open bag of cat treats to my perched upon the top of her cage rat the other day, and she stuck half her body in there and began gathering up cat treats like she was mad max's dog. as i pulled the bag gingerly away, she surfaced holding four or five tiny treats with her hands clasping them in her mouth. trying to get back into her tank proved disastrous, as she cold fell straight down on her prodigious rat butt a good foot to the tank floor, looking decidedly embarrassed at such a miscalculation. needless to say, she repeatedly makes this same mistake, to adorable consequence.
i spent about two hours the other day fine tuning the sound coming out of my broken ass amp the other day. my big muff is 8 years old, and has a serious volume cut. this results in the clean signal being appreciably louder than the raunch. so for shits and giggles i put the big muff at basically low fuzz setting before the snarling dogs, messed about with some knobs, and low and behold, gorgeousity such as i had not know puked forth. it's not bright enough mostly because my telecaster is made of fucking mud and mexican pots, but it sounds proper bad ass.
at unique i got two sweet things: one, a pin that says "koch for governor" on it from god knows when; two, a gal-dang black rebel motorcycle club hoodie. for two bucks. sometimes, life is good. mostly, though, it's black rage and impotence, but not the penis kind. as in, the real meaning of impotence. LIKE IN LITERATURE. jeez.
i'm pretty sure my educational psychology professor thinks i'm a massive jerk, because i say "fuck" too much. also maybe this answers why people in groups with me are quiet. "7th graders are just fucking jerks, right?" (i really said this to a latino girl with a lazy eye and an ADD mouth, a black girl who stares at ceilings, and a damn fine egyptian chick who's getting married in the context of creating a classroom and planning the first week of instruction in reference to where to put class supplies so no fucking jerk 7th graders will be able to steal them...i'm also right). but, i'm pretty sure ms. dread ship hears me say these things over (or under, as my voice resonates at frequencies below that of dumb fucking women and 18 year old boys; thank you, cigarettes) the din. i, well, shit; what the shit am i supposed to do. i've got a vocabulary like a thesaurus but my favorite form of punctuation is the fuck. the only thing that stops things more effectively is a period.
ramblegrumbleramble i'm drunk now, i just wanted to waste some time while that first forty kicked in.
wow, this laptop keeps my lap really quite warm! all's i need now is some of that stuff my sister keeps in the shower that says on the bottle "apply to your lips, nipples, or anywhere else you need stimulation" and a damn shaving razor with a battery in it.
i've been away a bit. not literally; i've actually probably maybe most likely spent more time laying in bed doing abso-fucking-lutely nothing but reading and watching movies with great 80's special effects than i have ever (except maybe that one time).
nay, since school has failed to provide me with quite factually no danged homework, i have devolved into oafdom. this is okay, but my caloric intake of malt liquor, radishes, couscous and coffee coupled with serious self imposed immobility is putting me in the family way. my two wheeled sojourns offer no succor.
i can't really go over the last two weeks or so in detail, because i don't remember most of it, i think. if i exerted myself, i might.
now, here's an interesting thought (or actually not, but you know). every time i've had to perform group work at school, i wind up in the quietest, least focused, least confident, most useless group out of the entire class. i wind up up de facto ad hoc leader because no shit no one else speaks, unless it is about their boyfriend or pants or, shit, i don't even know what the fuck these goddamned people are talking about. the one bitch just stares at the drop ceiling all period, like she's counting those fucking dots. i posit: is it the (non) luck of the draw that i am in these groups, or is it my presence in these groups that causes the silence. meanwhile, disparate groups of people create a din around us. what the dick.
i stopped drinking coffee before school on tuesdays and thursdays for a while, because this herpetic sarcocele of a sub-hume's disturbances and ejaculations during my math class pissed me off to the point of outburst and serious full scale kick-in-the-nuts-knee-to-the-face. i am typically very quiet in class, because, really, there is nothing to say to an indian math teacher with hips that won't quit. so i didn't break his awkwardly O shaped mouth wide open with the muscle covering my femur. i did, however, issue a firm verbal warning: "SHUT THE FUCK UP." spoken in my inside voice. this was effective for about no minutes, and then i got made fun of more than i have since high school. awesome. at least now i get knowing glances from the professor.
i actually summoned the fortitude to talk to this damn fine female in my sociology class the other day. walk up before class, "DO-YOU-HAVE-A-LIGHTER???" i know she smokes because i saw her do it. "yeah, sure." she gives me the lighter; it is a periwinkle bic. "thanks." lights shakily rolled cigarette, shakily because i had already smoked one four seconds ago before she came out of the building and also because i had been psyching myself up for this for years. takes a drag, "thanks." runs the fuck away. i need to go to school drunk so i won't shit myself in fear when dealing with six foot redheads.
ugh. in intolerably adorable news, i offered the open bag of cat treats to my perched upon the top of her cage rat the other day, and she stuck half her body in there and began gathering up cat treats like she was mad max's dog. as i pulled the bag gingerly away, she surfaced holding four or five tiny treats with her hands clasping them in her mouth. trying to get back into her tank proved disastrous, as she cold fell straight down on her prodigious rat butt a good foot to the tank floor, looking decidedly embarrassed at such a miscalculation. needless to say, she repeatedly makes this same mistake, to adorable consequence.
i spent about two hours the other day fine tuning the sound coming out of my broken ass amp the other day. my big muff is 8 years old, and has a serious volume cut. this results in the clean signal being appreciably louder than the raunch. so for shits and giggles i put the big muff at basically low fuzz setting before the snarling dogs, messed about with some knobs, and low and behold, gorgeousity such as i had not know puked forth. it's not bright enough mostly because my telecaster is made of fucking mud and mexican pots, but it sounds proper bad ass.
at unique i got two sweet things: one, a pin that says "koch for governor" on it from god knows when; two, a gal-dang black rebel motorcycle club hoodie. for two bucks. sometimes, life is good. mostly, though, it's black rage and impotence, but not the penis kind. as in, the real meaning of impotence. LIKE IN LITERATURE. jeez.
i'm pretty sure my educational psychology professor thinks i'm a massive jerk, because i say "fuck" too much. also maybe this answers why people in groups with me are quiet. "7th graders are just fucking jerks, right?" (i really said this to a latino girl with a lazy eye and an ADD mouth, a black girl who stares at ceilings, and a damn fine egyptian chick who's getting married in the context of creating a classroom and planning the first week of instruction in reference to where to put class supplies so no fucking jerk 7th graders will be able to steal them...i'm also right). but, i'm pretty sure ms. dread ship hears me say these things over (or under, as my voice resonates at frequencies below that of dumb fucking women and 18 year old boys; thank you, cigarettes) the din. i, well, shit; what the shit am i supposed to do. i've got a vocabulary like a thesaurus but my favorite form of punctuation is the fuck. the only thing that stops things more effectively is a period.
ramblegrumbleramble i'm drunk now, i just wanted to waste some time while that first forty kicked in.
wow, this laptop keeps my lap really quite warm! all's i need now is some of that stuff my sister keeps in the shower that says on the bottle "apply to your lips, nipples, or anywhere else you need stimulation" and a damn shaving razor with a battery in it.