the bread's stale

dear future dictators,
i had a lovely evening tonight. earlier on, me and my beautiful lady friend (lauren) attacked the Forks with razor sharp sarcasm and genocidal make-out sessions. very few persons were lucky enough to survive, but still remain in shock and disbelief - refusing to utter a single word about the traumatizing incident.
you will be happy to hear that my Hitler reincarnation of a cat, is immensely proud of me and my doings.


My saturdays nights are quiet lately (by choice, actually). And tonight I spent the majority of it by myself and it was fucking awesome. Lauren is out hanging out with her friend, and I totally dont mind sitting here and fuckering around with this new fandangled internet, and listening to distillers while screaming my brains out to them and jumping around my room, rocking out the air guitar as though the world was about to explode. My air guitar being the only possible chance for salvation, of course.
(i would)

My mom still thinks that I whore my body out for money (hey, its a step up from whoring my body out for drugs). She's wrong, by the way. But that doesnt really bother me that much that she happens to believe that. Mother-darling has been assuming that for (going on) three years now. Needless to say that this news isn't very shocking.
I will have to have a reassuring chat with her in the very near future. I hope I get a right stack of cheese from her again, for my return trip home... all of ten minutes away.

I feel (which probably means that I am) invincible this week.
I shall take this moment to give the credit to Lauren- whom I have found myself absolutely head-over-heels for.

gush gush
sigh
swoon
vomit

sincerly, forever fucked up just a little,
.ceej