i smell like dogs. i smell like four dogs. i smell like bad breath.

had band practise last nite then tried to stay up to watch dave chappelle but conked right out just before it came on. amy fisher was on oprah yesterday. her voice sucks. i went to the doctor and she’s all uhhhhhhhhh? so i’m going to have an MRI! oh boy! i had to go to a lab to have my blood taken there because my veins are super tiny and the nurse at the clinic has zero patience for that bullshit.

so i have a bunch of junky bruises which fil made worse by ripping the tape/cotton off for me as a “favor” and it felt like someone ripping all the hairs out of your head simultaneously except it was on your arm and you feel like pissing your pants and swearing in polish because it hurts so much.

so now there’s a big blue line of ugly across my elbow-pit.

i am the morning monster rawwwwwaawwaar!

we might be going to see apostle of hustle again tonite because they’re a-ok. though perhaps not because we’ll have to stand around in the cold in line with people who are too cool to talk to each other.

there’s this one AFV clip of some guy eating an ice cream cone and a big bouncy ball slams him in the face and the ice cream cone explodes all over him and everytime i think about it i start grinning and laughing to myself like some perv watching kids at the park.

“what’s so funny?”

“some guy eating ice cream and a ball flies at him and his ice cream cone and it gets all messy.”

“you’re a fucking loser.”