Saturday, March 06, 2004

fuck you, birds.

i hope you're all enjoying yourselves. with your tweeting and your not shutting up. apparently, you all got some sleep last night. alas, i did not. but dont mind me. please, continue singing you're merry little morning songs in my fucking ear.

can a person survive on three hours of sleep a night? and what exactly does one do at 4am when there's nothing on tv but infomercials hawking spray-on hair? how many average per night richard simmons sightings constitutes insomnia? is this why i always look hungover? (not so much. mostly, i believe that's due to actually being hungover). i worked out for like, 3 hrs. yesterday, and then ate a gigantorr calorie bomb of an omelet, in the hopes that i would exhaustedly fart myself to sleep. now i'm just really fucking sore and possibly fatter. and birds are laughing at me.

i guess i could clean something. but seriously, i live with two super-fecal slobs of the 20-30 yr. old male variety. anything i clean will be fuck-witted and covered in boy slime 2 hours later anyway. it's all i can do to ensure my room stays an oasis of calm and order, without them infecting it with their beer, ashtrays and/or skidmarks.

nobody's going to catch this cultural reference, but;
in labyrinth, a movie starring jennifer connelly and david bowie, jennifer has to find her little brother because david bowie stole him in order to teach him how to be a sexually ambiguous rock star or something. during the movie, (it's been awhile), jen stumbles upon an exact replica of her bedroom from her world. so she thinks she's home, except that when she looks out her window, the same goddamn landfill she was wading through is still out there. the labyrinth is not a tidy place, and most closely resembles a garbage dump. and some elf is peeing on her door.

and that is what it is like to live in my house. all around you a swirling vortex of slack and entropy. with an elf peeing on your door.


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