Hummmm. So. As you may well know, thanks to me mum (First Nations to you), I have movededed down off the mountain and into....YuppieVille. Kinda scary, but I can lay in bed and peer at the stars through my skylights and listen to the laketide splashy noises, so......I suppose I can put up with oblivious suburban housewives in their SUVs, yakking away on their cell phones....*puts shotgun up high and out of reach*. Yeah.
Unfortunately, I just HAD to move during finals last year, so my lease expired when? That's right, kids....during finals this year....right before my graduation. God, I suck. Thank fuck that's over. Needless to say, I've been a rather heinous and unpleasant, mopey little ball of stressed out seriousness lately. The other day I finally got a chance to hop on the intar-webs and posted a nice little tretise on how rather upset I was with a few of my lovely whores who'd ran for the hills once the crazy starting coming out.
I kinda alienated a few people with that, I think.
Well, and the crazy probably alienated a couple.....definitely made Captain Bitchtits and Ho-Bag annoyed and tired of me.....damn. But no matter. Those bitches love me. Captain Bitchtits is bestowing me with a barbeque (YES I am such an American, I know.) for graduating....we're turning it into a Bardot-Bot...for all you Sealab 2021 fans out there....it's gonna have chainsaw hands and D-Cups of Justice. And as for making amends with Ho-Bag....well....he's a ho-bag. All I have to do is go to some fucktarded emo thing with him and drink heavily, and I have a feeling all will be well.
As long as I keep my bra on, that is.
Woooooooooorrrrrd to yer moms.

That occasionally I am a total fucktard. And occasionally.....I can still act like a smitten thirteen year old.

At least I'm an extremely happy and giddy one, though, eh?

I am what I am. Word to Popeye, the doper.

I want a ginger bar from the Co-Op, a bottle of Ravenwood Zin, and my trophy boy.

I wish .....sleeeeeeeeeeeeep (restful sleep, undisturbed by vivid dreams).

I hate nothing....except the man....trying to tell me it's illegal to have body parts in my freezer. What. The. Hell. Dude.

I love hippos, mostly. They're all fat and look like semi-aquatic versions of my mom's dog.

I miss a lot of what is actually said in conversations, and chuckle at the garbled mess of words I DO hear.

I fear nuclear bombs, biochemical warfare, and contentment. Strife! Struggle on valiantly! And I'm there. Refuse to settle.

I hear the GOP slashed the budget for public broadcasting again this year. GO FOX NEWS GO YOU ARE KING except not. Fuckers.

I wonder... what my organs look like. Are they as squishy as I think they are? And why do I have two kidneys if I only need one? Are they tasty? What if they're really the most delicious thing in the world, and I die never knowing?!

I regret not a whole fuck of a lot....why bother, eh?

I am not so good with boredom and things that stifle. Like friends who seem to think that you're their Special Lady Friend and thus try and "take care of" you? Yeeeeeah. Take care of myself, thanksverymuch. I can even haul those bodies all by myself, yo.

I dance but will never admit it when asked.

I sing a lot like Fiona Apple with a headcold.

I cry . (that's all.)

I am not satisfied with the current state of things, despite being wildly happy again. SEE: strife, struggling valiantly, self betterment, et al.

I make with my hands ..............well, that there is just bad grammar.

I write your mother's phone numbers in men's bathrooms. With pee.

I confuse other people a lot. Always have (YOINK I STEAL THIS from mi mama...must be genetic.)

I should stop encouraging people into deviancy.

I start my day with two cigarettes and three cups of coffee, despite refusing to eat red meat or anything non-organic. Hypocrisy, anyone? Yes. I'll take two, thanks.

I finish my degree program in two weeks.....only to start another. BOO FREAKIN YAH.
Done?
Self disclosure...yo!

Wow, there is NOTHING I love more than condescending, patronizing, controlling asshole misogynist fucks with more bullheaded bravado than intelligence. I LOVE THEM LOVE THEM LOVE THEM......with a rusty hatchet.
Landlords, sometimes, are total fucking fucks. My current one (well, the husband of the pair) reacts to any inquiry I have with complete and utter defensiveness...like, "YOU'RE TRYING TO ANALLY RAPE ME IN A FINANCIAL SENSE YES YES YOU ARE SHUT UP LITTLE GIRL I KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT". Puh-fucking-lease.
I mean, I pay my rent and assorted bills on time. I don't do drugs, I don't party, and I don't really let people come to my house. I'm clean. I garden. The last thing I am out to do is screw over the person who owns the house and property where I currently dwell, you know?
Fuck. I am going to sodomize that prick with rebar wrapped in razorwire, honesttozombiejebus.

On a lighter note! Dorian will be an engineer in T-Minus....29 days. BOO YAH. And a few weeks after that, the Spectacular Trophy-Boy (like a trophy wife but trashier and probably sluttier) that I won in Montana (see: Land of Sheep Rapers) is wandering to my state to say hello....and stuff.......heh. Anyhoo! Boozing. Yes. Let's see if I can get him to get drilled by Bellingham's finest inkslinger, Ms Gavi of Mutiny Tattoo, eh? That'd be fucking amusing! I hope he cries. Crying rugby player...mmmmmm. That's good stuff right there.
....Of course, this leaves the Very Nice Young Gentleman in the dust, the poor kid. He was very sweet, but in the end I immasculated him. Nothing irks me more than being able to physically overpower a fella.
Except for the lady on NW Cable News, she irks me soooooo much I want to kick her ass.

Well, that is all. How very male-centric? I feel like there should be a phallus in this....oh, wait....here it comes......

Close enough, wouldn't ya say? Word 'em up homies.