i don't come home for two weeks & this is what happens?
...the guys downstairs apparently had to break into my apartment to shut the toilet off because it was overflowing & flooding the whole building...at least they had the decency to put newspaper on the floor & leave a note...now the floor (not to mention the carpet) is sticky & charmingly sepia-colored...i hope they sell mops at the dollar store.
i walked into a tree branch only once
...& i was extremely high when it happened...
alluvium was frikkin' awesome:
- i did my first line.
- i tried & liked 'shrooms.
- i kissed my first girl. on. the. lips.
- i did not fall into the steamy, plank-lined pit that was the latrine.
-but most importantly, i did not die when my ride there flipped over into a ditch...near-death experiences do make everything better. even trance music.
there is only one bottle of chartreuse left.
only 2 bottles of chartreuse left...
me, drugs, & a shitload of trees.
this is where i'm gonna be this weekend; this lifelong city kid will let y'all know if she walks into any trees or gets raped by hobbits.
found quote of the day, nay, the week:
"my nipples are the size of coasters."
now that's just gross. i'd rather eat your skin.
cameos
found screen-name of the day:
"FaggotxCore."
woke up today with perfect emo-hair -- floppy bangs over one eye, the rest sticking up at odd, artfaggy angles. i've also not had any solid food for the past 2 days so i have that vaguely hollow, angst-deluxe look about the eyes too.
had an anticlimatic, 'we're both having sex with other people so let's just be friends' breakup with my (well, mine no longer) country boy who came by for a visit a couple of days ago. this time around i took him to a dive bar on the edge of junkietown for $2 pints & introduced him to the dubious fun that is errol flynn on dvd. he brings me 3 bottles of chartreuse & doesn't even get to shag me...
i'm semi-seriously debating whether or not to give catchy epithets to my current lovers & record some of their antics here too, to give my narrative some semblance of continuity as opposed to what probably seems like random encounters with penii. trouble is, how does one simplify, package, & market a yoga-y health nut who dresses like indiana jones or a piratical, chain-smoking part time drug dealer?
soundtrack:
'tourniquet' - rasputina
'i'm in love with dusty springfield' - jayne county
'death or glory' - the clash
adjective of the day:
"snotgreen."
a couple of televisual firsts: saw my first episodes of 'star trek' & 'spongebob squarepants;' have yet to see a full episode of 'friends' or 'seinfeld.'
frag bomb
mood: explicatory.
word of the night:
"sebaceous."
the rasputine -- in soviet russia, poutine eats you.
witnessed an old guy who looked kinda like santa stroke a bus pole in a 'suggestive' manner. no way am i gonna give up wearing my newly acquired dog-getting-a-blowjob-from-a-girl-with-pigtails t-shirt. (my first & only white, non-underwear piece of clothing, by the way.)
turning japanese
those pesky limbs always get in the way? give
this baby a spin.
&
one for those always on the go...
phobia of the day:
"mykophobia."
(the fear of mushrooms)
found quote of the day:
"i eat food."
lots of sex = productivity
i tried both nitrous oxide (not worth the trouble, despite it being available in supermarkets) & ketamine (fairly interesting, less excruciating than acid)!
love in stereo
40 Future Partners!! Your Meaningless Percentage is 63%! |
Allright! 40! You have just barely enough sex partners in your destiny. Hopefully you can get them all in a room and see what happens. Of couse you do realize that with this many partners, the tawtness of skin & suppleness of bosom/buttock goes way down. On you. |
|
This test tracked 1 variable. How the score compared to the other people's: |
should i keep a running tally? that'd be pretty darn tawt, no?
found aphorism:
"break noses, not hearts."
i am so amazingly strung out right now.