babble
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Neurotransmitted trash:
Sweet Jesus on a crap cracker, you people sure are fucking quiet when I write about serious stuff. I should've known better. I'm not really a serious person. I make a fucking joke out of everything, even dead babies. So I think I'll just stick to talking about lighthearted things like my vagina and its secret identity as a crime-fighting ninja.
I've still got some traces of the plague, but I'm recovering a bit now that I've been home for a while and away from all the evil germs that are present in places like airplanes and Philadelphia. I'm not a fan of being sick and I don't really get colds that often under normal circumstances, but at least it is affording me excuses to remain in my South Park pajamas until mid-afternoon. Fuck getting dressed, I'm sick.
I need this recovery time so that I can continue with my jet-setting plans for the summer. I'll be going to San Diego for a day in June, then Toronto for four days, then San Diego again for what is turning out to be the best comic-con ever, then Vegas, then Philadelphia. All of this travel will take place between June 26 and August 16. That is a lot of shit to do in a summer, isn't it? I was planning on fitting New York in there somewhere, and I might - actually, I just fucking realized while I was typing this that I have a free ticket to NYC sitting in my frequent flyer account, so why the fuck don't I use it to go to NYC, then down to Philly for my birthday? GOD I'M BRILLIANT.
I just realized that when I'm really happy, I can't fucking write anything funny. Someone please come over and light my cat on fire or something so I can be miserable and creative again. Anyone? Bueller?
What's the difference between a pile of dead babies and a BMW? (highlight below for the answer)
I don't have a BMW in my garage.
babbled by Kat @ 1:26:00 PM |
|
