seriously

dear tuning in diary,

i know what i'll be dreaming about tonight. follow me and i will show you. see the big green hill over there? that's where ima take you- but you don't have to go if you don't want. there's weed over there and lots of it. all you can smoke and eat. i wanted to warn those of you who are non tokers. i currently don't smoke- but i still enjoy smelling it and touching it and just being around others who do- i can keep you company if you want while the others are busy- but come on- come with me- it'll be fun. the tree fell over on the hill. i wasn't there when it happened- but i did see it soon after. i scratched my leg getting this photo to prove i saw the tree on the hill after it fell. you see, it was the only tree there on that hill and now there is no trees there anymore. it was a mighty big tree. one that doesn't grow everyday. i bet this tree was over a hundred years old- on the hill that grew the weed. people don't realize how terrible it is when trees fall over. i miss that tree. i miss it as much as i miss eating weed. but i miss smoking it more. i will plant another tree in honor of our huge loss- and i will smoke weed again a year from this october. but tonight i will dream of running down that hill- i will dream of getting that chill- when i feel the sticky sweetness between my fingers.

warm in the night

dear turkey bacon diary,

i found a package hidden in the fridge and started jumping for joy. ima make pancakes in a minute to eat with it. i love pancakes with real butter and real syrup and whole milk with the red cap. fuck the pink capped milk. my mom drank that watered down shit. ick. i want everything thicker than most, my meat, my koolaid, my milk, my man. thick is better anyway you go. that way over the years- you can afford to lose some- cuz you know you will. i think. so ima eat some bacon now. cuz ima hungry whore. for to the shore.

sweet desire

dear waking up again diary,

omg what happened here? i cant explain- but i loved it. my bff forever and ever.

butter and spice

dear into the mud again diary,

to most it would sound like i was going outside to retrieve the mail- or pickup dogshit or something- but ima just go to bed and snuggle with my mud covered doggie for awhile sos i have the energy to argue with the grump later. he seems to be ready to growl and so forth now- a warning of what his intentions are later- and then i thought i would make homemade cinnamon rolls- provided nobody reads this and starts harping. the house is quiet- for now- ima take advantage of that.

still the one

dear if i could write a book diary,

sometimes i think about writing a book, but then i think- nah. why do that again. i've already written six of those and i get so bored about halfway through- committing to one character and one basic set of circumstances that always lead up to an almost certain ending. by about the fifth chapter- when you've established who everyone is- i want to toss the bitch into the river. because the only other alternative is to take that left turn and go somewhere nobody expected- which always turns out to be dumb- because there is a delicate place where stupidity and eloquence no longer balance each other and even the best writers never prevail. if you take that left- you ain't coming back- so enjoy the ride down dumbass. fuck a book anyway. really. a book. really? fuck a book? i'd rather write a movie about a book about a book about a movie about a book- just so i can be sure and get my facts straight.

farmers only sound stupid

dear spoon fulls of sugar diary,

oh fuck. it's damn near 5pm and i am still awake. something is clearly wrong. train wreck in my head. volunteers for the cleanup? anyone? i will be supplying the grape/cherry juice and the all you can eat buffet. man oh man- i could sure go for some fried ass chicken about now. fuck me in the ass- and some corn on the cob. them fucking farmers better get to plantin that shit because there are only a few reasons to live in illinois and by gawd peaches and cream corn is top of that list. why do they even bother planting any other kind i will ever know, but when i was stupid- i used to think that all the corn that was growing along side the road was the kind you could eat and i would pull over and steal a couple of ears- well i only done that a couple of times- i'll tell you what. that kind of corn don't even look right next to a pan of water. trust me. they pretty much hide them patches of sweet corn anyways. they don't put them by the road to often. farmers ain't as dumb as they look.

put me under

dear loose lips sink ships diary,

look, i am not a brain surgeon, nor have i told anyone i wanted to be a brain surgeon, but it shouldn't matter if i was a prostitute either. altho- both occupations could be equally as rewarding i would say- it just depends on the client you were working on at the time. plus, some people just really love their jobs- so who is to say that a prostitute cant love what she does as much as what the brain surgeon does. it wont be me making that assumption- because i happen to know there are brain doctors who would much rather be fucking for money that cutting into the brain- but that is beside the point. how do we know that prostitution isn't a way of saving some one's life the same way brain surgery might be- or at least improving the quality of it. leave the working whores alone. they may need their brains fixed someday too- the same way the surgeons may need their dicks sucked.

lights- camera- action

dear my friends go to the movies diary,

i wish i could go to the movies. i have the money. i have a car. i like popcorn. but there is only one small problem, i cant stay awake through an entire movie. nope- i fall asleep. it all started during the movie SPLASH- i sat down- the movie began- next thing i knew- people were shuffling by me to leave- it was over. in my opinion, you really haven't lived until people are standing over you yelling your name. it really is a weird experience- especially when there is 'nothing' wrong. it is a good thing i enjoy sleeping as much as i do- otherwise- i'd be in a world of shit. instead of paying to watch the silver screen movies- i wait and watch my own. usually mine are better anyway and most of the time- i know the stars.

i loved to kiss

dear things money cant buy diary,

it is true. money can get you pretty much anything your little beating heart desires. but money cant buy you a nap like i just took- with a dog like i have- not for any amount in the world. becky is priceless. i dunno how i ever got her the way i did, but i did something right when she was a baby puppy. she sleeps like a dream. i often wonder how she would sleep with someone else- if i were to disappear- if she would snuggle right in the same way she does with me- and i think that she would- if that person knew how and let her in. it is important to invite her- or she wont come. you gotta hold up the blanket for her so she knows you want her- or she'll head on down somewhere else. then once she's all nested in- there is a certain way your arm must weave up between her legs and end up around her neck. that's just how she likes to be tightly held. there are certain nights she wants to look at me tho- those are weird nights she sleeps with her legs in towards me and stares at me. every time i open my eyes to see what she is doing- she's looking at me. she expects lots of kisses too- throughout the night- which i do not mind giving- because i miss kissing.

the comfort nest

dear wrong side of the mattress diary,

i can only get out of my bed one way, but i got up on the wrong side of the mattress today- i think. so far, i have wanted to kill the unibomber and destroy the birds and i've been up a little over an hour. it's weird tho- cuz i don't feel rage inn my arms or legs or anything- like if you guys were here with me in the physical sense- we'd be laughing- cuz i feel fine- i just have this plan in the back of my head- like, 'it sure would be nice if......' but it ain't never gunna happen and besides... somewhere along the line- the bird shut up and he went back to bed and becky came to snuggle with me and everything is back to its normal tranquil state. soon it will be my turn back in the bed and i can not wait. i love to sleep alone with becky and the grump. they both HAVE to touch me.

wild birds ain't parrots

dear slamming the window shut diary,

today i felt really stupid when i got pissed off and slammed the window down in anger. i don't think i have ever gotten mad at a little tweeting bird before. i am all but certain that was yet another mark against me in the BIG BOOK IN THE SKY. i think the fucking little thing was perched at my window just doing that shit on purpose- to fuck with me- for an hour it seemed like. it about gave me a headache. there was a couple of times i thought it was IN my room doin that singing shit. i'll tell you the fuck what- if i ever wanted a bird- i don't anymore- not after today. fuck that. i hate birds now. fuck a bird. every bird. i bet its cuz i put that birdhouse up next to my house. but that birdhouse ain't for them to use now. it's a decoration. ima take it back down and fill it up with cement so the flying fucks cant move in it and tweet. that birdhouse has been there for two years and we never had an issue. why now? my luck- it'll be a whole family of robins too. damn them sweet robins. i used to feed the birds. now my dad does- they fly over there and eat cuz it made all the weeds grow in my yard. birds are messy.

ask anyone

dear undeniably certain diary,

one of these days you guys, ima gunna kill him. you'll see me on the news and think, 'i bet that's trixiethewhore right there,' and it will be. it won't be hard for me to do it either- i'll bet it will happen within the first three minutes this bitch wakes up- that's when he is the worst after all. omfg i cant stand him. the sound of his screeching voice screaming at me- is like fingernails down 619 chalkboards AT ONCE. he's up now. my day is over. sometimes the sounds that come from his throat scare me when i am relaxed and about ready to go to sleep myself- my stomach will drop as if i've heard a monster speak. he is a monster. even the grump will tell you.

upSide your head

dear i have watched another instructional video diary,

and now i realize, i have been going about it the wrong way this whole entire time. i ordered the video on 'how to stalk without being caught' online almost a month ago- and it just now came in yesterday's mail. in fact- that is all that came. i was kinda glad too. it says the most important things not to do are the things i always do- and have been doing- so i dunno- i may have to start changing what i do. but see the thing is, i don't really consider what i do to be 'stalking,' what i do is, 'stawking,' and there is a huge difference. all the pictures i take aren't to beat off by- i don't get a nut (usually- but sometimes i do) we are gathering EVIDENCE and boy oh boy do we have a ton of it. i fell in to the burning ring of fire. but it didn't burn me.

dial 9-1-1 don't send help

dear calling all cars diary,

this shall be- accounted for, and recorded as, posting number nine hundred and eleven. the snake is all out again looking for a rat i suppose. "none tonight buddy," somebody needs to tell her- so she can go back to bed. oh yeah, the grump just farted a big ole long fart- real juicy soundin- it oughta be smelling up here any minute. i feel like some coleslaw or something crunchy- i forgot there's some carrots in there still. OMFG THAT FART STANKS. but it doesn't keep me from remembering the cherry iced cherry donuts from the donut hole when i was a kid. how i wish i could slow time down to a stop and wake my mom up and have her go get us some. she would too, cuz she liked them as much as i do. then i'd get to see her big blue eyes again. and just maybe- i wouldn't be able to figure out how to come back. wouldn't that be a shame. i wouldn't come back if i didn't have to anyway. i'd stay and eat the donuts.

porch turkeY

dear not what i was wanting diary,

i freaked out earlier and thought Easter was sunday and got the turkey out and then i realized it wasn't til next sunday and put it back in the freezer cuz now i got time to thaw it the right way- thank goodness- i didn't feel like gettin in a hurry about nuthin- that would have SUCKED- man that would have sucked- but it is a tiny turkey- a big chicken actually- so i woulda lived- but we don't have to worry about that now- i'll take it out wednesday prolly- and that bitch will be good and ready to cook somewhere dumb on sunday. ima use my new portable plugin oven and cook it in the bedroom or out on the porch so i can cook an oven FULL of other shit to eat with the turkey. this will be the second time i've used the nifty little fucker like my grandma used to have. dad got me one for Christmas last year. i think i will put it out on the porch. fucking turkey man. i love turkey. fuck yes. with the gravy. and the damned cranberry salad shit. omfg. why me? right now i am going to eat a ham sandwich. pork- the other white meat. 

and that will be that

dear it almost fell apart in my hands diary,

it might be the fact that it is old- and that's why it did that- i dunno- but i prolly wont pick it up again. i'd like to get a new one someday. sometimes i think new things are better- but then when i get something new in my fist- i start missing my old shit. why is that? i mean just missing my old shit so bad- nothing will satisfy the hole i replaced on PURPOSE no less- with something new- something i figured would be better. it never is. it never is. so why i pick up new shit and latch onto it and think it will give me any kind of gratification- beyond me. but i do it. i sure do. i'll just keep my old shit from now on- even if it just falls apart every single time i pick it up to try and suck on it.

it was cute tho

dear you have nothing to worry about diary,

the intense pain of unresolved issues can often result in bad decisions and mistakes and ongoing stress- which causes heart disease and tooth decay. maybe i have been in the wrong field of expertise. i wouldn't be human if i didn't feel a twinge of humility when i torture myself with the questions of what could have been. i put you through allot- i loved you- i didn't want to lose you- i lost you anyway. i wanted you all to myself. i knew i could make you happy. but to realize i never made you happy in the first place. to know you were still looking when you said you'd found me and your dick is so tiny? i'd never seen one so small.

hiccup like a drunk

dear this ain't even right diary,

i woke up with the hiccups again. then i said, 'watermelon watermelon watermelon,' and they left for a little bit and they are back with a vengeance now. i think that something must be wrong with me- because adults just aren't supposed to get hiccups like this- i wouldn't assume anyway- and i get them all the flippin time. i drives me bananas and sometimes i just want to poke some one's eye out- but that wouldn't be relevant to the situation at hand- an eye for a hiccup? so i just sit here- looking and sounding DUMBER than usual (if you could imagine that shit) and keep saying, 'watermelon,' which usually works- but now is not. then, just when i think they are gone....THE WORST ONES EVER HIT.

my aunt had ants prolly

dear waking up before it is all over diary,

waking in the middle of the day is like capturing a firefly in a jar, watching it for a while, and then letting it go instead of smashing it across the concrete sidewalk to get that glow-in-the-dark line it leaves when you kill them- a relief for the lightning bug- but a disappointment for the napper. i love to see my name in the glowing juice. the trick is to have all the lightning bugs already caught and ready to kill because that glow juice wont last long once its smeared. i am always a couple bugs short of completing my name and i always wake up half way through the day when i try to sleep the whole day away. yup i am up today- and the lightning bugs haven't come out yet this year. it prolly wont be that long tho. i saw the ants already. i hate ants. i had one aunt i liked the best, aunt donna. she lived with chickens and sheep. i'm sure she had ants there too, but uncle oliver prolly took good care of them for aunt donna.

cream corn

dear somebody called me a whore in my dream diary,

i got upset. i have not a clue why that would upset me. i really don't. you can call me anything- in my dream or when i am awake- and it really doesn't make me feel one way or the other. it concerns me more that it bothered me in my dream- cuz it wouldn't bother me when i was awake- so i think it must mean something more. sticks and stones do break bones and put huge dents in things that are metal- they'll bruise your skin and make you bleed and you can prop your door open with the big ones. words are different- they are soft and with them you build stories. you link them with others and set them up and watch them start their worries. you stack them up and slide them out and if you are a good farmer- you can make other words pop up like plants in the dust- and oops you grew a field of leafy literature. don't try to hurt me with words- grab a stick- words are my friends. but remember- i carry a can of corn in my purse.

refill please

dear medicine cabinet diary,

self medicating isn't always a good answer, but finding what works can be a chore. i could suggest a myriad of options, however, a simple bag of marijuana grown in california could in fact be the best resource for everyone involved. pack up your household, including your children and your pets, and take the necessary measures to move across this great land of ours to the west- where the thinking has been expedited. live among rational people who know that this is a cure-all substance worthy of changing laws and live the dream. let your mind be free of all that consumes it on a daily basis and let it roam in the open puffy clouds which roll above you. send postcards back here to those of us who must lag behind and suffer for another 552 days.

sultan of sultans

dear searching for a mental illness diary,

obviously if you have to search for a mental illness- someone has the capacity to either mask their illness to hide it- or they ain't sick- you are for lookin in the first place. i believe sexual frustration leads to obsession. i believe if you're not interesting enough as a person to obsess in yourself- you will obsess in others who are. others who have prolly even fucked your husband. i used to obsess in the bitches who fucked my husband- it used to bother me- til i realized he always came home. yeah- i remember that shit. that sucked too, it sure is more fun to be the one who fucks around. we have the agreement now, 'you can- i am,' and it works out ok. ima sleep now and dream of times gone by. ima wake up and wish i could get high. i hope the search went shitty for what they could not find and i stayed in the back of someones mind. fuckme i shall wake up tomorrow and answer each call with a heart full of sorrow.

no strikes & no fouls

dear rumors that were right diary,

i've always heard one good man can do the job of a hundred wimpy mother fuckers. well. same goes with a deluxe model faucet by gawd. NSA- hot as you want- full stream ahead- harder till the water fills up- then it calms down til you cross home plate baybeeeeee.... oh yeah. one size faucet fits all. and i washed my hair. take it or leave it. took it. kept it. and bringin it back home. i got out wetter than i got in.. not the first time. out the door- a satisfied whore. Karma told me not to wait. so i am leaving. after i brush my teeth.

three men in MY tuB

dear rub-a-dub-dub diary,

i feel like i want company in the bathtub today. i feel like a wee bit of splishy splashy fun. i will draw a hot tub full of smell good bubbles and light some candles and send the unibomber to the store. we'll have the whole gigantic bathtub to explore. becky will be the only one we can let in- but she wont jump over the sides or nothing- she's only into kissin. i'll get the supersoaker out and i can super soak you and you can get your super soaker out and you can soak me. mmmm. and we can get more hot water if we need it- or we can get cold water if we need that. oh well- i cant wait i have to go now- but it would have been fun if we cudda figured out how.

medium rare- no salt

dear no explanation necessary diary,

really, please, save your breath. there is no need to even try to explain why you did what you did. in fact, better yet, let me clear my throat, sit up in my chair, do a big choking hit off that bong you have in between your legs and assure you, i am a better person for not fully understanding- or wanting to grasp the fundamental reasoning behind your thinking. don't come at me with a blind passion for suddenly realizing you fucked up my world- i already mourned the loss of your divine powers. just sit there and look semi-heroic in the burning building sense- whereas i will be the lifeless victim you will not be able to save. ah, the fast food combo- burger- fries- and a drink. you can get that anywhere- but all you want is steak.

cleaning out the flour bed

dear this is what i did diary,

i knew i needed to do it, and so i did. i put my pajamas back on and work slippers and went outside. i was only out there a total of about- i'd say 22 minutes, but my legs are shaking like i was out there for a whole 33. my job is finished for now, but it ain't over. i gotta get one more thing before it's crowned perfect. if i know myself, and i do, that one thing will turn into sixteen things, but i'll make myself settle on eight and call it a day. that is how well i know myself. omg- you haven't a CLUE as to what i am talking about huh? is that any different than usual tho? why don't you guys hang it up and move on? i prolly would. you prolly do. k bye then.

the final switch

dear puppy in my lap diary,

i decided just now, ima do some research and see if i can find a spell that will allow me to switch places with becky. i want to be her. i already know she wants to be me. if we could just switch bodies- that would be perfect. i love her so much and she loves me so much- nothing would change. i would just shit in the yard. the blog would prolly change. "woof woof woof woof woof woof growl." but you guys wouldn't notice after a day or two. i would have the most perfect life then- sleeping in my bed- cuddling with me- kissing me- loving me. if anyone knows of this person/dog switching spell- please let me know. i am serious.

mirror image

dear it has happened before diary,

and it will prolly happen again, but not on my watch. i don't even wear a watch. watches are gay. not literally of course- but they look happy on my wrist- so happy- they just stand out. i have my old swatch watch from when i was a kid- it's over at my dad's. i loved that bitch. my wrists and ankles are so tiny that it just looks funny when i wear watches or bracelets or any kind of arm or leg jewelry. i cant draw anymore attention to them than i have to. i think i was supposed to be a skinny skinny. my ass and hips never developed- and i waited like everyone said. i did get the boobs- just not the ones like all my aunts- and i never got the thunder thighs- i never got any thighs at all. yep, i'm pretty fucked up lookin. but- thank goodness i know now there is worse. i'll just keep on wearin my socks and sandals- and my boots and shorts (to hide my bony little ankles) and let other people think i am just a dork. i'll save money on jewelry- maybe get earrings for my fat head- or take that money and buy new tarot cards- and have my fortune read.

flying package

dear i believe i can fly diary,

i don't think i can touch the sky tho. i know i don't have wings. i have almost figured out how to break the law of gravity. some lady in my dream last night accidentallly mistaked my purse for hers at the checkout counter at the gas station. i didn't know how i was going to survive without my purse. in real life- i keep hardly anything in my purse. i dunno why i even carry a purse- something to spend money on i suppose. all my purses are expensive. i have fucked up tastes tho. i'll wear two hundred dollar shoes and jeans- carry a high dollar purse and wear a $.25 shirt from the thrift store. why that is- i haven't a clue. shirts suck. i don't like shirts. so i don't buy them new. USUALLY. with the exception of my free people collection and my jacket and tank tops and undershirts- i don't like shirts. i like pajamas. pajamas are my thing. omfg. i could be a queen in pajamas. when i am wearing pajamas, i am so comfortable- that is when i can fly. that is when i can almost break all the laws of gravity and extend my steps for miles. i don't need any wings- and the sky- i have no desire to touch it- because i am the sky when i wear my pajamas.

remembering to get lost

dear come to think of it diary,

i know why i was never kidnapped as a child. i wouldn't follow directions if my life depended on it prolly. and not so much on purpose either. i just prolly wouldn't get it. and it's a shame too- because the way my life turned out- i would have made a great kidnapping victim. i mean- instead of one of the others- it should have been me. after my mom died- shit prolly nobody would have even noticed really- cept my grandma- and she got alzheimers soon after that- shedda forgot. i turned out to be a big fat nothing- not so much in body weight- but in life weight. i guess there is still hope. i'd just like to take becky when they come get me and the grump.

Karma's influance

dear now is as good of time as any diary,

i do believe in ghosts- everybody knows that. no big cat getting out of the bag there. but what you guys don't know is- ghosts believe in me. i know- kinda weird isn't it? try living it. it is cool sometimes- but other times- not so much. people tend to look at you funny once they know you know. it's okay for them to secretly suspect your 'gift,' oh but don't start advertising it or you'll be deemed a 'nut job.' i already know ima nut job and it don't bother me a bit. i can fill those boots any ole time they wanna take them out of the closet, but for further reference- the ghosts are real- don't you ever doubt that shit. where do you think all that energy goes when we die? the body may lay lifeless- but how about our spirit and soul? i ain't even about to get into that now- and you know i could, but when you make friends with those on the other side- the dumb fuckers over here don't matter as much as you thought. i bet we'll end up spending more time over there than here anyways- way more. at least that's what the ghosts tell me.

a super exciting wednesday

dear bathtub Gods diary,

i want to thank you. thank you. heading west, i realized it had been a very long time since i'd taken the long way home. turning around, i realized there was a uniformed police officer in a marked police car behind me. it was retarded to think about reversing my decision- so i kept turning around- in the middle of the road- like a dumbass- to go stawking. and the cop did as well. now we were both stawking- only one of us didn't know. i wasn't  changing my plans- and i wasn't telling him either. i'd prolly leave that out iffin he flipped his cherries on to ask. he didn't, not yet. we kept going and finally i was at my target stawking destination. i cruised by- slowing as i always do... the cop hot on my tail. then i turned left at the little market where the man was shot in the head and went down to the next block and turned left again. i wanted another view. the cop turned too. he was hard up. when traffic cleared we crossed the road and i'd seen plenty. i went on down to the barber shop and took a right and the cop took a left. i guess he'd seen enough too. so for shits and giggles i drove back by again- AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF THAT COP DID TOO. i high tailed it back where i came from- with my seatbelt on and now i am at home again and i got my scanner turned on.

mouth sculptures

dear ever since diary,

they changed the formula to my favorite brand of popsicles. the good humor ones in the yellow box- with the jokes on the stick. they are lucky the orange ones still taste about right or i dunno what i would do. snap prolly. but they sure did fuck up the red and grape ones. fuckers. i've written this before- but i'll write it again because it's true- it just happened again a minute ago- every time i suck on something- it ends up in the shape of a dick. i think i t must be the way my mouth is shaped inside. i dunno. ice cream cones- same way. suckers- all of 'em. if i suck on it- it will end up looking like the head of a dick- sure as shit. so, as a general rule- i cant suck on things in public. i just refrain. i get my ice cream cone in a cup and try really hard not to start sucking on whats on the spoon- cuz the same thing will happen there too.

raising the bar

dear seeing what i can do about nothing diary,

i'm still here. wondering. listening. thinking. always thinking- writing in my head. it's a good thing y'all only get snippits of what goes on up there. everything that happens used to be private and now i write it down- but i don't write it all down because i just cant sit in front of this stupid thing all day- well i could- but i choose not to, because that would suck- even though it would be much safer across the board- it would suck because it would be boring and my ass would get sore. but i could sit here for a good part of the day. which i usually do- for the safety issues. it's nice to sit here because nobody can see me. but i can see everyone else. i might get up later and take a bath. yes. and then write about how good it was. unless it was perfect and then i'll write about how perfect it was. ima make it hot. really hot. ima make it really long. and ima use all the hot water.

illinois bill- i mean BELL

dear you're the reason God made ammunition diary,

i just woke up again and thank goodness i did. now i'll be able to sleep again in a couple of hours. i caught the grump sleeping in the right direction and a tiny bit closer than he usually sleeps to me- sos i pulled him up into the becky position- which flew for about three minutes- til he fully gained consciousness and snapped- and i had to retreat. but holding him for those few minutes was awesome. as soon as he left becky came and claimed her spot and i held her til i got up. i had a dream i was in my bathtub at dad's house upstairs and i ran water over the side and my cellphone fell down to the bottom. NIGHTMARE. i love taking a bath at my dad's. but come to think of it- i have never had a cellphone since i've lived there- or had a bath there. only the city employee has. he got to stay there with his cellphone before i did. that's just wrong. oh well. you never can tell. i did have a cordless phone. i'll count that.

holy f'ing whoreshit

dear the day i look like this diary,

people worry about what they look like. i mean, i do too, but not like other people. this lady right here, in my opinion, is a great example of someone who should worry, in a wholesome way, how she looks, without alarming others....

i think if this woman grew some longer bangs, longer hair on the sides to cover her elf like ears- and stopped wearing white makeup around her eyes her nose would look less pointed and hallowed out. she needs some action around the neck area until her hair grows- i would suggest a turtle neck at all times. there are some people you just can not help. those people- plastic surgery maybe the only viable option.  for instance this lady right here. well actually i have two more perfect examples....

the lady to my right, while clearly has a weight issue, is also suffering from various undetermined conditions as well. we can only assume this did not happen to this poor lady overnight and will not go away as fast. she would be a perfect candidate for radical physical transformation surgery. she too is a beautiful person with a locatable vagina. notice the pliable breasts and accessible mouth region.

this woman needs so much work and it needs to start with her mouth. someone needs to stuff that bitch with a soiled diaper and tape it shut. sign her up for a serious chin job and THEN do something with that irritating voice. omfg. does she EVER STOP WHINING? only about- ok NONE of her shit is funny- and LEVI JOHNSTON? can you say BABY RAPER? and why do the gay people like her? she is so MEAN to them? HELLO? someone needs to do SOMETHING before I DO.

march 10, 1990 day after daddy's

dear been up- time to go down diary,

yup. an hour and a half is about all i can take and then i have to go back down for another two and then i can get back up for the duration. that dumb fucker screwed up my life for five years and it sure is nice to have it back- in its' entirety. well- almost- pretty close. it wont be much longer. i already feel pretty normal anyway. plus i blog now. what a great addition to life that is. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE. now that her daughter, kidney, is twenty one years of age- she'll be hanging out at the bars this summer LMAO and she's fair game for my friends- off limits for me maybe- but not to everyone else. i know where her people all hang out too, the same place my people hang out, (lotta good the Christian school did) but we all have our favorite spots. like mother like daughter- super predictable. whoever thought it would be this much fun- waiting this short time for the 'minor' to turn twenty one. it sure was tho. if she didn't want to be involved- she shouldnta had mommy put her name on the list. oops mommy give the minor a kiss.

bigtime whore

dear once every so often diary,

ideas that come into my head make themselves at home because they know they will be there quite awhile. once something enters my head- it usually takes an act of God to get it out. i am depending on a good old fashioned case of memory loss to clean my slate. otherwise, i don't have a burning chance in hell at a normal life. if i could just wake up lost, in another city, with a new identity- i'd have it made. seriously, be as smart as i am now, as old as i am now, with all the basic shit i know- but erase everything that makes me who i am. i'd be a total blank slate. i know i would turn out the same exact way as i am now- cuz- i just know. but there would be no cuntface to worry about, no city employee, none of that nonsense. i could just be myself and be normal again without being a whore. or maybe i would just go global- and be a world wide whore.

stand up straight

dear leaning towards an answer diary,

i ain't big on questions. nobody in my family really is. i just pretty much accept what you say because it is easier that way and really- i don't give a rats ass. who cares. but today- today i need an answer. it is one of those days that are different i suppose. one of those days that are few and far between. i will not take another nap until i find the answer i am looking for. i do not need any help either. i forgot to get a roast out. which is a bunch of bullshit. i had it on my mind all day long yesterday and then it left- never to return again. figuring it'd be about half cooked by now- it ain't cuz it's still in the freezer- wrapped up in the meat paper- frozen solid as a brick bat. there's an answer for ya. not the one i was looking for. funky bitches. still, i don't give a rats ass. who cares. you don't. why should i? 

sandy bedsheets

dear sleeping in a bed of mud diary,

the advance stages of not giving a fuck become blatantly obvious when you are able to sleep a full night in sheets full of mud and rocks from the backyard. i'm waiting for the day i wake up and there is a full grown tree next to me. i wipe the feet of the dogs when they come inside- but you cant tell- not in my bed sometimes. and it doesn't bother me anymore. straight up. i haven't woke up with dirt or worms in my mouth or ears- i'm happy. i don't even mind cuddling becky when she smells like the backyard either. it does not bother me at all. i love my becky- dirt- slobber and all.

lumpy gravy ain't for me

dear i feel guilty more than usual tonight diary,

oh boy. one of those nights again. my gravy boat sunk. i'm not going down again after it. it means the world to me when i can conquer things on my own with little to no effort. but when something as stupid as my gravy boat sinking- well- i kinda feel like an idiot. i wouldn't hitchhike if i needed a ride. i think i would just walk. maybe even if i had to only walk a few miles at a time- i'd scale concrete walls, climb fences, hide in trees, i would do whatever it'd take to keep from hitchhikin. i don't pick up road walkers either. my dad told me a story once how he did. i couldn't do it. i wouldn't do it. you shouldn't do it either. 

on the other hand

dear measuring head to foot ratio diary,

upon gathering the circumference around my head, suddenly as i see the figure on paper- it looks abnormally large to me. i then look down at my feet and i see two of them and realize- they are so small- tiny in fact- in comparison to my beefsteak head. so woman to blog- what does this mean? big head- small feet- perfect toes- landslide nose. i found a quarter inch wrinkle on my top lip- and still i have no ass or hips. that has to be why my interview didn't call me back- ima put my head on a diet and get right back on track. as for my feet- i dunno what to do- but stick them in a bigger shoe.

define lesbian

dear you cant burp as loud as me diary,

i just drank a whole can of soda in two swallows and burped louder than i have ever burped before ever in my life. it freaked me out. i didn't know i had it in me to make a noise like that, but i guess i do. it was fierce. i should have been born a dude. ida made one hell of a man- i'll tell you what. the things i am capable of doing- no woman should be able to do. getting stuck under my car at 9 months pregnant- changing the oil- yes- that was quite the story for the baby book. my neighbor having to come jack the car up to get me out from under it- real damn cute. that's prolly why nobody gets me any girly type gifts and shit when they gift me i bet. while all the other woman in my family would get kitchenware or fancy dishtowels and perfume, i got floormats and car wax and a chain for my wallet. i'll bet you all the money in regions bank (which prolly aint that much) that there was a pool on whether or not i'd turn out a lesbian. ahahha..... YOU LOSE! while i can appreciate women and their beauty, i can not lick a woman, therefore it would be impossible for me to be a lesbian. i did kiss one tho, once, and fucking liked that shit. and i am interested in watching another woman fuck the unibomber. i am also interested in mouth fighting over a hard penis- like playing tether ball with it until the person who wins gets 'it.' but lesbian... no way.

on top of old smoky

dear feeling my scalp diary,

running my fingernails over my scalp is dangerous sometimes. i never do know what i'll pop off of there. my brain could start oozing from one of the fresh holes i've made- or worse- infection could seep in and breed. i pretty much did the ponytail yesterday and squeezed an extra day out of it. however, today- there ain't no squeezin shit. it is do, die, or shave it off. ima do it. it won't kill me. ima change my pillow cases too, no need to state the obvious. i took charlie sheen off my twitter. i'll be saving TALL battery juice now on my phone. he tweets more than the city employee texted (btw). ima go dunk my head before i change my mind and follow charlie again.   

stage left

CANDY ANYONE?

horrid intentions

dear i ain't so cute today diary,

i slept long and hard and very stretched out last night and i am ugly this morning. there really is no other word to express my overall appearance. some days i wake up and i look unbelievably pretty and other days i wake up unrecognizable and today- i must look like someone in my ancestry i have never met, someone from the caveman days. i woke up feeling something lovely and hard pressed against my ass today and thought for sure i was going to get lucky and have a little early morning fun with the unibomber. i even reached behind me to see what i was gettin, and boy was in for a surprise. it was long and fat and hard alright- but it was also furry and there were two of them ready to go- it was becky's feet. omg. i have to live with this NOW for the rest of the day.

tango-vicious-lishious

dear favorite memories are that with fish and dogs diary,

feeling the way i do about fish- and eating them i mean- wont be a surprise after you read this post. cuz some of my favorite memories have been made with fish. fish can be good friends. they are great housemates and loving partners. fish respond to music- have moods- and die when you don't feed them. i had my 60 gallon fresh water aquarium with one fish in it, dickhead, in my dining room when the babies were little- and i could not eat in front of that fish. whenever i served dinner in the dining room- if it wasn't possible for me to sit with my back to the tank- i had to cover the tank with a sheet. same way when the tank was at the farm in the kitchen. dickhead loved to be in the kitchen- because she loved to be where all the activity was. but i couldn't swallow with her gawking at me.  i always get bit by our pets. even lady dickhead got me. william got bit by marty our dog once- i'm trying so hard not to piss myself thinking about it. we got the whole thing on VIDEO TAPE and knew it was gunna happen- AND LET IT HAPPEN. and i know it sounds so cruel- and my kid did kinda cry- but we knew marty wouldn't hurt him AND marty had no teeth. so yeah- marty looked like a vicious pit bull- getting ready to bite a two year old just sittin in a chair with him NOT DOIN A THING- poor baby in his PAJAMAS- and the big black mean doggie just bit him- while mommy and the daddy were video tapin laughing. sad. that is william's favorite childhood video.

adoption is an option

dear captain caveman diary,

it used to make me laugh- all the things captain caveman would swallow. the golf clubs and tires and televisions- i would bust a gut laughing at what came from his belly. i often drew pictures of captain caveman on my arm at school- which always turned out looking like a purple blinky off pacman- but i liked it. my mom hated it when i drew on my body- but i did it anyway- just really small and in places she wouldn't notice. thank goodness there were no teletubbies when i was little- i already know ida had it hard for them. my mom would have too. fuck. shedda made curtains and comforters and pillows and all the room gadgets. she was all about holly hobby- i know shedda went flippy for a teletubbie. i think the grump thinks he is captain caveman sometimes the way he bellows for no reason. he has got to be saying something because he growls the exact way each time. his autism gets worse in the evening.

he's gone now

dear floatin around diary,

leading up to what i wanted to not tell you ever, i always knew there was a man in the creek when i was growin up and nobody could tell me different. i saw him, i talked to him, and i brought him food before he was dead. he knew he was going to die. he would tell me the time was closer every time we spoke. i brought him many different things- and most of the time- he stayed in the drainage pipe that ran under our road and into the creek. once in a while- he would be deep under the street sleeping- where it was dark and cooler. i was always scared to enter either side of the pipe- but especially on the other side of the street- deep in the neighbors back yard where the entrance wasn't as new and wide. the man was gone one day- but all of his belongings were still there- everything i'd ever brought him. i know he died because he came to me and told me he was. i was sad and still think about him when i visit the creek by our house. he lived there a long time.

lead me on

dear packing a lip diary,

following in the footsteps of someone who obviously traveled the beaten path before seems like a good idea, unless that someone always ends up lost. i muddle through the expressway alone. often checking for fresh footprints and my maps from google for directions if i become concerned along the way. sometimes it is hard tho. i was changing clothes in the bathroom at the gas station the other day and some man broke down the door and saw me naked. it had a slide lock too. i was buttass naked. you could imagine my surprise. i didn't know what to think- and i am sure the poor man didn't either. i guess he thought the door was just stuck? i dunno? apparently my, "just a minute," wasn't understood. i survived. hopefully that man did as well. beating a path for others is the kind thing to do, as long as it always ends up leading them lost or back where they started. that way i have a better chance to get back home first.

Tales of Feathers

dear big ole jet airliner diary,

don't carry me to my home, cuz it's there that i belong. good time oldies. imagine there is no Heaven. there is no hell below us- imagine all the people living for today- isn't that what they're doing anyway? i don't have to imagine shit john lennon. i am living it. i wonder what made someone want him dead. really. him- more than someone else. i cant figure out why people think they have the right to claim another life as their own. they didn't create that life- why should they get to take it? as a mother- i always threatened to kill my kids and a couple of times i think i had them convinced. i like to think i had them convinced anyway. like all the sex line phone calls to the 900 numbers- TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS- when william was thirteen- he should still be dead. but i couldn't do it. i just couldn't do it. plus i didn't know if it was him or the city employee- and still don't. i really don't want to know. if you were to ask  me- but nobody ever does. AND THAT'S FINE.

maria the great

dear here we all are again diary,

tomorrow will be a better day. not that today was a bad day. it'll just get easier as each day passes, knowing i am a reject. plus maria comes tomorrow- she hasn't been here for two weeks. i cant remember why she did not come last week- a doctor appointment for her husband- juan i think. it is hard to listen to her. her english is good- she just talks like she's being burnt with a torch or under some sort of serious distress. i'd just rather not have a conversation with her- a question is ok- but when she gets to telling a story- forget it. i usually am 'busy working' when she comes. she has a mess tomorrow. ima have her do the walls going to the basement sos i ain't gotta look at her. when i started putting away all the canned goods for doomsday- i noticed they were a hot mess. ima see iffin she'd like to tackle that tomorrow. if i gotta do it- i will- but it wont be tomorrow- i can assure you. ima start on the windows before i do anything spunky. every window in the house needs washed and not just the ones we look through. ima do them all- even the ones that don't open. AND becky is old enough and listens well enough to put the screen in the front door this year!! she wont jump on the door anymore- it's going in. maria gets here in the morning. i'll be glad to see her.

heads first

dear play that funky music mexican boy diary,

i never dated much. that might be my biggest regret. i did have a ton of sex tho- i did. unibomber style sex. it was good sex. machine like sex. predictable- honest sex- dependable. to this day- it's still the best i have ever had. i'd give a glowing reference to anyone who would ask. yes, the unibomber is a beast. he just fixed my dad's tv. daddy called while we were over getting the new huge wooden door from my girlfriend's house- claiming the lightning had struck his house last night and killed the tv- made the phones static-y and (i loved this part) made his dancing snowman continuously go off- WHICH WOKE HIM UP IN THE NIGHT making him realize his tv wasn't working. my poor dad. in april of 1996- it was that fucking tornado. always right before tax time too- you know he is a cpa. his van blew up, the computer fried, and now- the CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT is going haywire. why is the snowman dancing to jingle bells still out? i couldn't even ask him. his complaint seemed so justified- him explaining how he had to find a screwdriver to remove the battery cover at 3AM and all- just to shut the snowman down. i couldn't help but feel for the poor guy. BUT STILL. as a last resort, before taking the 1975 model tv to the curb for tomorrows new trash pick up date, the unibomber did what he always does, he gave it that one magic whack on the side. then he pushed the 'on' button one more time- like he knew somehow. i'll be a son of a bitch if oprah's big smile wasn't right there- just smiling away- like she knew too. predictable, honest, just like a machine- you always get what you pay for in the unibomber. a beast.

cruel & unusual

dear crackers and milk diary,

when i got in trouble when i was a kid- and my mom wasn't home- my dad would make me eat milk and crackers and send me to my room to wait til my mom got back. my dad will sit down and eat that shit as a meal to this day- i cant stand it. i never even once suggested my boys eat crackers and milk- for any reason. i've wanted to dump milk over their heads a few times- but i never did. maybe i should have. nah, i couldn't have produced two more perfectly rounded young men if ida belted or choked them daily. i did get it all wrong tho- the one i figured would be on honor roll- isn't- and the one i never thought would be on honor roll isn't either- he's on HIGH honor roll- for the last two years straight. they never did half the stupid shit i did- i always wondered why that was. prolly cuz i never made them eat milk and crackers when i got mad.

La Gondola's

dear are you getting this diary,

things that go through my head often don't linger. oh, i suppose once in a while they do- but not often enough. nothing seems to make itself at home up there except mini obsessions. not MANY obsessions, MINI obsessions, little things that stick around longer than things that don't. i don't have many of those. i don't. like for instance, cuntface would be a mini obsession. yesterday- waiting on my phone to not ring was a little example of an even QUICKER passing mini obsession. i obsess over hot torpedoes sometimes, (a sandwich for those of you wondering- i also like the uncle tony) but i rarely obsess over anything else. once in a great while i will go through a major obsession. but not very often. when i do have a major episode tho, i know it is best to wring out the towel, part the water, and trim the hedges back- cuz ain't nothing in the world gunna budge til i'm fully satisfied with my complete efforts. i may not get what i want- but i'll go down swinging with sore fists and an exhausted and fully challenged mind. i ain't gunna give up.

a dove- notta crow

dear monday stupid monday diary,

i drove the convertible last night and really liked it. somehow airing my hair out and drying my sweaty roots gave me a new crispy style this morning i really wasn't expecting. i am quite pleased actually- if i had hairspray in the house- i would prolly consider cementing it- but i don't use hairspray- and i ain't running out to buy some for this occasion- because frankly- there is no occasion. my fingernails must think there is a special event today- they turned out perfect, but they always do- the dependable fucks. i brewed up a special color for them last night because one of the BRAND new colors i got the other day was SUPER SUCKY. i had to add some red to it, (imagine that) and now it's a color i can live with. ima do a little diggin today in my flower bed- clean things up a bit in there, 'change the sheets.' the hens and chicks are sure poppin out nice. it'll be their first spring without their true owner pat. i am so glad i went and stole them from her porch after she died. it's hard telling where they'da ended up. now that pat is buried right by my house- i keep her hens and chicks as close as i can to her- as the bird flies... 

the Angels are bowling

dear sleeping in the rain diary,

sleeping under the gentle sound of thunder rolling above my head always makes me feel like i'm in my mother's arms- a child again- rocking on her chest. it never gets old- the feeling of her touch- the sound of her sweet whispers. it always sends me to the best dream place and i never wish to return. waking up to the dampened streets and wet grass used to remind me of staying inside when i was little. the smell of the clean fresh air would taunt me- because all i wanted was to go outside. i'd just go back to bed until it dried up- usually. goodnight diary. goodnight wet grass. i'll prolly go outside in the morning.

for real

dear something specific or something really fucked up diary,

i know the secret. i ain't stupid. when i went to new york around christmas and interviewed for my other job  job- i learned a tremendous amount then about things in general- about how the production side works- and i wasn't even interviewing for a production job. what i learned was- in an open call audition like i went to saturday- they were looking for something very specific- and at the same time- keeping an eye open for shit they cant pass up. facts are facts here and i gotta face them, i'm old and no longer in the 'tight ass- perky breasted- 20 something' bracket- nope- i am now in the, 'SHIT THEY CANT PASS UP,' bracket. i gave it my best shot y'all. i did. i really thought it'd be hard to let someone like me slip by. all my people are so encouraging- telling me to, 'leave my ringer on tomorrow,' but it was already decided. wasn't it? i used to be something specific. i'm just shit now. the kind of shit you shouldn't pass up.

international fishing license

dear mid life collision diary,

loving relaxing at this point. what a fantastic place to be. knowing i getta continue on with my same dumb life and look forward to only going to court now- i dunno if i can handle all the excitement. i counted by three's and the city employee is scheduled to be working on my court day WHAT A FUCKING RELIEF JACKSON- oh but ima sure cuntface will come- SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE- that bitch doesn't miss a fucking beat. i like smiling at the bitch anyways. i'll wear my skinny tight jeans and my boots. it'll be fun to explain to the judge why i still owe $41 dollars. i hate to keep LAUGHING MY ASS OFF, but i am tho. i was ready to see some mountains. fuck fuck fuck. that's ok. i can go fishing later. i wonder if there are mountains in  morocco this time of year. my passport ought to be here any day.

a split egg maybe?

dear this is not my dog diary,

look what william just sent me. i gotta kiss this dog.

can i help you?

dear that shit is fixed diary,

my phone never rang. i shut the ringer back off. i just woke up. i was relieved it was so late. whew. got past 2PM anyway. i am glad i made it past the magic hour. now i can live life again. i'm cool. would i do anything different? change anything? nope. not a damn thing. hard to believe they passed up on such a golden opportunity to exploit such a willing whore- but then again- i've seen stranger things. back to the killing field. i have to work tonight. i bet them bitches rake me over the coals too. they will. i suppose i am ready for the brutality there as well, but it isn't always easy taking the force coming from every direction. but the customer is always right. i may not be a good waiter- but i am a damn good server. whores usually are.

the plunge

dear this is killing me diary,

with every minute that passes- omg- know my phone wont ring more and more. it never rings anyway- i dunno why i thought this day would be any different. fifty two minutes left and counting- look- fifty one now- i cant even get into the bath tub yet- i want to- i just dont see how. fifty minutes- here we go- i suppose i could give it a try- soaking in the bubbles- i still wont cry. yup, ima go soak- and pass the time for real. and hopefully some other subject- in my mind- will steal my thoughts. 

temper tantrums

dear giving up all hope early diary,

in the past, i have found for me- it is best to just give up as early as possible so when the cutoff time does roll on by- it wont be so dramatic. i'm thinking if i start to throw my big fit now- by 2PM it should be almost over and i finally get started with my day. man i am so STUPID. i just wish they would write you a little rejection card and send it in the mail and be like, "high, we didnt call you because you are ugly, have a flat ass, and because- you were the 49th most boring person we saw that day- oh and you should lose about 20 pounds before we ever need to see you again. thanks for coming."  at least then i'd know what to work on. ima take a bath i suppose. that usually helps dissolve the tension. little ms. becky is sleeping so peacefully. how i would love to fold my little arms and legs up under me and let all my worries float away. i love her.

also- a rope

dear wondering how old a tree has to be diary,

i have no trees in my yard that are strong enough to hang myself by. i mean, if i needed to. i mean- if my phone wasn't to ring. i mean, if i got so distraught from the fact that it didn't ring and i thought it would and then the disabled veteran's called- if i were an unstable person looking for an aged tree- how old of a tree would a tree HAVE to be? you know, to support a whore and her neck weight? the maturity rate of my trees are such that i do believe would not sustain my weight, and has anyone ever committed the act from a christmas tree type tree? i don't want to die anyway- but if i did- man i'd have a tough time here in my yard. i wonder if anyone has ever done it from an ornamental tree. man, i gotta stop this. my phone may ring at any minute and my frame of mind will not be right at all to take that call.

my phone rang

dear ringer on my phone diary,

i hate you. not the disabled veteran's so much, but the lady calling around collecting for them today- OF ALL DAYS. you know? fucking call tomorrow when my ringer is OFF whydontcha? gawd dogit. so. i am up again. my eyes are not as crossed as they were. i got two hours and 2 minutes left before the depression kicks in and i wonder what i should have done better. fuck nothing. there is nothing i could have done better. nothing. nothing. nothin. nothing. and i wont be depressed either- if they call or if they dont.

into the bed again

dear i don't think ima be able to do it diary,

staying awake to not look at my phone may not be an option for me. my eyes are sliding across each other, and i don't think ima be able to do it. i am crazy tired. crazy tired. just a few minutes ago- i was wide awake- but the curtain fell. oh man did it ever come down quick. kaboom. i cant wait. i am not a good waiter. ima go crawl back in my hole and sleep till 1:55 and start cryin. naw i wont cry. i wont. but this time i cant say i made any friends either. at least i took pictures. yeah. at least i dun that. laughing out loud- quietly.

hate the wait

dear watching a pot that never boils diary,

even though i did that once and it ain't true, it does take a considerable amount longer. therefore i have chosen NOT to look at my phone today while i wait for it to ring. it prolly wont ring anyway, but it doesn't hurt not to look at it. i keep second guessing myself- maybe i should have dressed up more. everyone else had on their sunday best- and their nice high heels. i didn't. i had on my favorite 'car wash' sweatshirt and true religions and ugg boots. but my nails were perfect. my hair was clean and my mouth was on time and right on target. i dunno. well. the hard part is over and now- the harder part begins. the wait.

PAY PAL ONLY

house hunting

dear in the neighborhood diary,





stopping by to visit the family is always important. i love it when all the neighbors are out to welcome our arrival. the unibomber got scared. i was not scared, for the record. i made the little bitch go back- as you can clearly see- he did. i know what the big black mac daddy was looking at- and it wasn't the unibomber- feel me? cuz i was feeling every bit of that shit. black men love me and the more i been noticin them lately- the more i been likin them. i never have before either- so that's really weird. really strange. i dunno tho- i don't think i  could tho- but i do think about it sometimes. sometimes i'd just like to fuck the shit out of one- just to satisfy this fucking curiosity that's been eatin at me for fucking years. how big are them fucking dicks? what if i'm missin out? wtf. what if they just fuck so damn good. oh anyway look here at this house.. it's sheila and karen's house...





you honk- i wave

dear shock and awe diary,

how many times do you think i have been to chicago in my life? oh fuck. prolly twenty. maybe twenty five. maybe more. so how many times do you think i've been to the chicago i've went to today? just one. today. it was like an old time LA. i realized today why everyone thinks illinois IS chicago. because everything from down south looks like it has been neatly slid up and compactly stacked all north of joliet to the water, all choreographed- in an elegant fashion- i'd never seen it from this perspective. the buildings are so tall and old, but part of the sky and part of the city that is so unbelievably wide. the fog or whatever that rolls in between the buildings is- that shit is very very spooky. it looms and lurks between the buildings as if it is waiting for you. i saw a bride- she was so beautiful in white and her portrait will look nice against foggy mist. i don't know where her groom was at- he was prolly already pissed. it looked like a sweaty man with no shirt on- had some plans for her today- and those plans didn't have anything to do with the groom- i am afraid. or maybe the man with no shirt on was the groom- how am i to know- i just drove right on by- i really needed to go. people like to honk up there- i like to honk too, but usually i only honk if i know you. i'm just glad i am home and unmarried.