Tee-hee… I know my parents are a little distraught that their kiddies aren’t progeny-ing. We’re 2 of the three single grandkids left of the original 17. The other is our demure, mousy cousin Maria who still thinks people are well-meaning do-gooders (still waiting for her fall from grace). I dunno – I think they raised us to be too independent – I’m still in awe my sister is actually living with her boyfriend. We’re both so self-energized. As Pink says: I don’t need no G to take care of me. I like her album but I grow weary of the references to ‘game.’ I’ve got game. It sounds like game to me. I knew it was a bunch of game. And I can’t stand the phrases ‘back in the day,’ and ‘old school.’ We’re talking less than 10 years ago assholes! And then there’s ‘fault to me’ as in ‘don’t screw me over.’ And aren’t references to ‘fly’ and ‘fly-girl’ as out as Arsenio Hall? It’s all a bunch of middle-class whities trying to get some ethnic culture since they divorced their European roots to wear Diesel jeans and carry their crap to work in Bloomingdale’s bags. I have a little rage. Un peu. I want to do some kind of play about the whole idea of Lincoln Park Trixies – that shit send me into hysterics. These little frowsy self-righteous, self-deserving brandwhores trying to find a guy that can support them like only daddy could. I can’t stand default people living their default lives. They need to go to Start > Settings > Control Panel and change their configs.
The hypnosis could work for awhile but then you’ll just have a mid-life crisis, buy a red truck and go on a multi-bathhouse bender. Besides you can still have kids. Always thought if I end up having a husband it’d be cool if the eggs came from one of our sisters so the kids is related to us more fully – but that means Heather’s nephew is also her son. Ick. But then again, we are from Kentucky and Indiana where if you can’t keep it in your pants, at least keep it in the family. And if you can’t keep it in the family, at least keep it in the livestock.
I’m a little high-strung today. Un peu. De nada. No importo.
I love how my new crown in the back of my mouth keeps scraping a bleeding hole in my cheek. That’s so romantic. Note to self: Non-fat soy milk is nasty.