this time i kno its 4 real

the most pansy ass wastoids always sit beside me on the bus. this one girl talked about all the awesome drinking and blazing she and her housemates did all the way to kingston (and let me tell u, it was A LOT lol). she’s my shero, for sure. then this other *aulder womyn* had an epic cell phone conversation at 3am when we were almost there. i moaned real loud to signal my displeasure at being awoken from the most uncomfortable sleep of my life (well, not quite…), but she either didn’t get it or is way too huge a bitch to think of anyone other than herself and her stupid only friend who called her. what a huge coincidence that above-average annoying people always end up proximal to me especially given my almost superhuman tolerance for people’s foibles. maybe i’m projecting the hate.

NAH!

since then i didn’t do much. highlights of the week include: being sat next to by Why You Dress So Sexy Honey while she ate her toast super-daintily (one of my favourite ladies – always keeping it classy. some of us just can’t hold a candle), hearing New Yorker Girl’s [the magazine] voice, and brushing past The Bookish Friend on the street so we wouldn’t fall in a snow pile. i want to write some DIY porn plots about them soon. i also sang karaoke again i think i have chemical dependence.

yesterday i finishied recovering from a short’n’sweet 36 hour illness. no serious damage. i think i finally lost the brain cells that inform patterns of social interactions, though. it was like being in hell with tila tequila, only with no dykonic moments, less tickling and force-feedings of cake, and more pain around the temple. i keep imagining myself as a contestant on a dating show – it’s really upsetting because that means i’m a narcissistic psychopath who no one will ever love. i also worried about whether i would ever be capable of loving someone on a deeper level than really wanting to win some one-on-one time with them in a contest.

i realized that the only things in life i’ve enjoyed lately are completely incompatible with (restful) bed rest. see for yourself:

1) loud music

2) dance

3) smoking

4) drinking

5) Bisexual Bachelorettes

i’m relieved to return to my top 5. missed you! the only thing is, now i can’t use “food poisoning” as an excuse not to do anything or to garner sympathy. it was nice while it lasted. tha*k g*d th*t’s ov*r! f*ckin n*zi g*rms.

i’m trying to pinpoint at what point of the human life cycle birthdays become more work than they’re worth. maybe when you have to plan them yourself instead of your mom just hiring a magician (rabbit included!). now birthdays make me so anxious i get scared an ulcer will eat its way through my entire body and i’ll be one big colostomy bag. yesterday i didn’t attend 3 birthdays that i was maybe attending. but my mom made me return their presents to Toys R Us, so it all evened out. I know I’m breathing a sigh of relief, karma wise.

last night i dreamed i was in prospect park catching the subway but zoe got separated from me and on the other side of the platform she turned into a siege machine from Age of Empires but with the head of the triceratops from Barney. needless to say, it was quite the adventure getting back to manhattan. i either woke up or started dreaming about something else before the crisis had to actually get resolved. sorry Gregor! ur gross!

i hate hearing about other people’s dreams, though, so that was probably wasn’t very good for you. if not, i don’t know what to say. isn’t it kind of sad that you give a shit about other people’s dreams if you weren’t even in them?

in september 2007, donna summer was nominated for induction into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame, but she didn’t make it. No More Tears, baby! you’re good enough for my Saturday morning 104.5 CHUM FM/’97 Bonnie N Clyde revival playlist.

p.s. i’m a window shopper. i’m just taking my time choosin between fiddy and lily is all.

p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.p.s. joan of arc is a GENDER WARRIOR. you go, “girl”!