in homage to the acrylic paints i purchased yesterday afternoon i will be setting the color scheme of my blog to HEADACHE.

we saw clerks II last nite and it is Ha-larious.

dear people who sit behind us maybe 7 seats away – just because you aren’t directly behind us we can STILL BE AFFECTED BY YOUR UGLY DYKE STORM TROOPER BOOTS KICKING AND SLAMMING ON THE CHAIR BECAUSE ALL OF THE CHAIRS ARE CONNECTED IN THE ROW WE ARE SITTING IN SO YES GO AHEAD REST YER FEET UP BUT DON’T KICK AND SHUFFLE YOUR FEET EVERY 2 MINUTES.

so i finally go over to this girl who is sitting by herself and i feel kind of bad cos it’s a kevin smith movie and she’s alone and not the best looking swan in the lake and she immediately gets scared like i am going to stab her WHICH I COULD HAVE BLEEEARGH! and i say can you take your feet down it’s vibrating the entire row but i didn’t mean to say that i flubbed it cos i had about to reprimand a stranger adrenaline and of course fil was too scared to do it so i always end up being the scary mean witch.

so, for the rest of the movie she didn’t have her legs up and i felt bad about it but if i went over there again to be like HEY IT’S OK PUT YOUR FEET UP, i was paranoid she’d be all JUST LEAVE ME ALONE YOU’RE SCARING ME or something like what little children say when they see a monster and that would be too embarrassing to sit through.

i also wanted you guys to know that i am not really a fan of dessert anymore, sweets, anything not tasting like chips or cheese or meat or salt and that the cake at my wedding will be steaks, thousands of them on tiers to the ceiling with a blood fountain at the top and the little bride and groom figurines will be floating in it and me and my husband will smash greasy meat all over our chins and then have an acne-popping party for the midnite buffet.

ahha i just found acnesucks.net look how bummed this guy is:

cid’s borderline personality disorder

serious

don’t worry i know that these are the best drawings you have ever seen.

i wish i had some markers and big sheets of drawing paper so i could draw hamburgers and me floating in space with hamburgers around me.

ps zero people win a postcard because your rage stories were long-winded. i wanted like a tiny paragraph, consisting of no more than three lines in length describing a situation where you are so mad you have a brain aneurysm.

for example i told a squeegee dude to FUCK OFF yesterday afternoon at front street on our way out of the city and he said WELL FUCK YOU and walked away. he just started washing the windshield and i got nervous he might fuck up fil’s ride and i was kinda hoping he would cos at the moment i was full-on seeing red and i got the rageahol butterflies in stomache feeling but i think he knew i was a crazzy biatch so he just went away.

LUCKY FOR HIM REEEAAAWRgh! i was looking forward to punching his facial piercings off though.

dear downstairs foyer:

why do you insist on smelling like old lady perfume aka funeral parlor full of old ladies? i guess it can’t all be bad cos it rubs off on my clothes and it’s like HEY FREE PERFUME! but sometimes i would prefer NOT to smell like dishsoap poison with a hint of rotting mayflowers.

yours, raymi apt. ***

cheated hearts, yyys