Wednesday, 02/09/05 - 5:10 pm.
Two nights ago:
- Joe: I saw a Ringo Starr CD. I don't remember its name, but it cost $1.
- Me: did you buy it?
- Joe: no, I wouldn't. Even if it's just $1.
- Me: you suck.
Last night:
- Joe: the name is "stop and smell the roses".
- Me: you bought it?
- Joe: yes.
- Me: you suck.
- Joe: no, you do. I got it for you. You own it. You suck.
Honestly. That kind of freaked me out (no, no, you're not supposed to be buying me stuff, damn it!!!), but at the end of the conversation he gave me the feeling he's gay. Or he seems to believe he is. Or maybe he was just fooling around. But I'd rather go for the number one, to avoid potential conflicts.
- Me: out of 26 contacts, only three are girls.
- Joe: four.
- Joe: with me.
- Joe: but don't tell the boys. They like to take advantage of that.
Or maybe he said it because he was curious about hearing a vagina monologue. You know, I'm one day late (I'm always late) and this time of the month sucks. But you're not a girl, I said, I can't go deep on the subject with you. Oh, I could. The type of chromosomes, X or Y, doesn't stop me from ranting about that. But I decided to let it go this time.
I'm thinking of entering a contest. You write a story and they give you a thousand bucks. I wish it was that easy, though. It's about values. I can't write about values, all I write about is prostitutes smashing testicles with a hammer.
*cough* I mean, I've thought about that. I have angry ovaries.
I finally have my driver's license again. Well, I have a paper that works as such, a temporary permit. I'll get the real one within 30 days.
I also got a cushion for my spine. It sucks. I don't know how you're supposed to sit on that...tire, in a way that your spine bone is left hanging. I mean, what the fuck?
Right, well, I was talking about the contest. I'd only enter for the money, which is probably the lowest reason why anyone would enter a contest. I could never win. And most likely, I could never write about values, unless I say something like:
Yeah, hi, I have values, but I'm in coma, so they're useless to me.
In my defense, that line's worth at least 100 bucks.
What would I do with the money? Nothing, really. I'd pay my dad back all the money he invested on my book (it was never a loan, but still). And I'd help with the bank account destined to medical emergencies (my dad's very cautious). And then maybe I could get new grass for the house, and revamp the bathroom and get a nose job.
AND a liposuction, because I barely move all day since the pain in the spine came back, and yet I eat the same. I was noticing this morning how disgusting my legs are. Nevermind the scars of when I used to cut myself (my high-school-freak self loves them), I'm talking about fat.
Today's Ash Wednesday, and this is me without a cross on my forehead, saying "that was today's (and yesterday's) news. Farewell".
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