Saturday, July 31, 2004

how was your day?

well. i cried when i was cleaning out the refrigerator. and then i cried some more when i realized that the stupid mop had already been packed, and fuck knows where. and then i cried when i found it.

i cried when i inadvertently saw a picture of paris hilton's tits in the newspaper. (that's news???). i cried some more when i realized it was, in fact, news. i cried vomiting, sputtering, calf tears when i heard the large noisy train in my new back yard. for five whole minutes. if that happens 2-3 times a day, 7 days a week, and i have to live in this shithole for 12 whole months...well, that's just a whole lot of crying.

i crawled into my brand new spacious closet and choked on large hunks of dry wall, all while weeping uncontrollably in an ergonomically insane rocking motion. because when i tried to take a shower, i realized the drain was deep throating the red-neck hippie hair of the previous tenant. and there were no showers to be had.

and the electricity. let me now expound on that. or not. because there IS NO FUCKING ELECTRICITY. and then i might have cried.

i think i sweat my body weight today. combined with all the gratuitous sobbing, i found it only somewhat interesting that i had not taken on the consistency of a mummy.

and then mummies made me think of my crack-head land lord, who is a complete and utter douche-bag waste of humanity. and a soul-less fuck. i understand that repetition is a fairly annoying literary device. but jesus. fucking. christ. with the CRYING when i found out i have a crack-head for a land lord, and that he has the keys to my house, and that he can come in and smoke his crack on my naked lifeless body whenever he damn well pleases.

that's how my fucking day was.


Wednesday, July 28, 2004

even if things get heavy...

we'll all float on.  ok.

stupid song's starting to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  i am, in fact, aware that this is the second time ive linked to this.  but its 1am and i have no where to live.  yet.  packing sucks.  but if you press 'play', and then 'repeat', its seems way more than all good. 

dont you worry.  sometimes life's ok.  good news is on the way. 

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

fuck.  god fucking dammit.  fuck.  fuck.  fuck. 

there once was girl named 'leduse'.  and she had way too much fucking crap for her own good.  and she tended to worry about it a great deal, when the point where she had to move out seemed eminent.  oh. so. fucking. eminent.

and then there was a boy named bob.  who did little dances around the girl that was trying to pack while the girl was trying to ignore him but the boy wouldnt stop and it became very distracting so she kicked him the nuts.   and  bob was like, 'what the fuck'.  and leduse was like, 'exactly, you shit-heel, WHAT THE FUCK'.

and then the amount of cigarettes smoked was legendary.  and the amount of beer drunk not so much, but comparable. 

and sweet jesus with the dust.  so much dust her face was grey.  grey and but sneezing all the time it was.  and she was like, 'my god, i cant even take something for my allergies because it will only induce a week-long nap'.  and then she knew she was fucked and that this whole week would suck a mighty un-yielding asshole. 

and for christ-fucking-shitbag-sake.  i have a goddamn ridiculous potty mouth.  stick a soap fork in my mouth.  im done.

 

 




Saturday, July 24, 2004

something i ought not have done.

so, where i work, when you start a tab for someone, you use a ridiculous screen keyboard to write out the person's last name.  at least, that's what youre supposed to do.  more often than not, tabs turn up as 'assface'  and 'doooshbag'.   its a nice little passive-aggressive way to send out our vibes of hate to a customer who decides to suck.

and sometimes we make up subtle ones like,  'dudes' or 'dudeswithchick'.  sometimes its all about the distinguishing characteristics.

so when my shitbag ex-boyfriend walked in after refusing to speak to me for six months,  his tab was clearly 'fuckwad'.  but then some other dude joined him and i didnt know if i should split their tab into 'fuckwad1' and 'fuckwad2', or let the tab remain one big 'fuckwad'.  so when they asked for the bill,  i asked if they wanted it split.  they both said no.  i really, REALLY, wanted ex-shitbag to pick up the bill.

the other dude picked up the bill.

i was like, 'oh fuck'.

the outstanding part is that other dude had to put the bill in his per diem thingy so he could get reimbursed by his law firm.  cause they were both on a business trip.  i felt like a huge doooshbag.

 

Friday, July 09, 2004

welcome to the bung-hole,

we got fun and games.

or,

that time i got drunk in cancun and woke up with a tattoo on my ass. cliche. meh.

in my 20th year of life, i decided to cash in my meal plan, all $700 of it, and put the money toward one debauched week in spring break-assaulted cancun, mexico. and almost five years later the smell of ramen wafting gently from a dorm room microwave still gives me the vomits. 

despite the food i later endured on my severely limited budget, being an irresponsible asshole gringo for seven days really kicked ass.

partying is a job there. your 'friends' turn into policia in the sense that if they sense you are maybe not as inebriated as they are, they make you eat the worm. the worm is no good. the worm is a real worm in mexico. they dont dick around with the worm. and neither should you.

after the worm thing, i considered body art.  naturally, cancun is an extremely safe and cleanly environment.  so when i saw the tattoo parlor, right next to senor frog's and pj mcHorney's, i was certain i was encountering a sterile environment, and that the 250+ lbs. hairy man behind the counter was a consummate artiste
 
id been wanting the chinese symbol for courage on my boob.  (i cant even believe i just wrote that.  and that its true.  what a dumbass.  needles and boobs dont like each other).  but the hairy fat man didnt have anything like that in his portfolio.  so, considering the options for all of 2 seconds, i cooly selected three symbols he said would roughly represent 'wisdom'.  he then picked up the needle marked 'aids' and stabbed me repeatedly in the back.  cause my boob is for certain not big enough for three symbols.
 
to be continued...
 
*sorry about the aids joke.


van. down. by. the. mother. fucking. river.

what day is it today? the 9th or something? yes. i still do not have a place to live. the not knowing what day it is...not helping.

so these nazis that rent houses dont really want to let you rent their houses. they just put up signs in the front yards to show that they have all these cool places to live but you cant live there. this is not a game. this is not a game called monopoly. the houses aren't plastic. stop bogart-ing all the houses.

'...the end is extremely fucking nigh' ~28 days later