Thursday, August 01, 2002

So I started the atkins diet about 4 days ago and I was doin so well untill I got to work and one of my co-workers brought me a big box of nilla wafers and I cant stay away from
Okay so never mind about the band boy in Kissing K-aww-sis is kissing some one elses ass. 2 tears in a bucket-fuck it

Wednesday, July 31, 2002

So there is this guy I keep seeing around that I really want to meet. I think he is in this local band but I am not positive. Any hoo I have seen him at several different places that kinda seem out of his element but who the hell am I to judge what this strangers element is
I would eventually like to find someone who makes me laugh and I enjoy the time we spend togather. Lets call him Bob, the last relationship I was just in, was a complete bore and a waist of my time. So Bob was this suposidly super cool indie rock kid that owned his own record label in Austin. He had all the right connections and never paid to get into shows. What more could a girl want right? Oh how I was and so many others sadly mistaken. Bob was a spoiled only child who kissed all the right asses and never uttered an original thought. His musical knowledge only dated back a few years, yet he claimed to be this profound indie rocker with a vast wealth of indie rock trivia.
Oh that brings me to yet another thing that he and so many others do. That thing that sceenesters do best, talk about deep and profound things like Thomas Jefferson's slave department's first album that is so rare you can only get it in Istimbul. I respect people who like music and and know what they are talking about when it comes to the music they like. It just seems as though these people like to read up on this music just so they seem justified wearing those stupid tight pants, black rimmed glasses and greesy dyed black hair. Why this irratates me so I dont know. Mabye its cause I am secertly jelous of the fact that these people can retain this info and then throw it back up and act like they know a thing or two. All that shit goes in one ear and out the other, I guess I only wish I can remember all the shows I have been to in my life all the shit I ever read bla bla bla just so I could do the same thing but actually know what the fuck I am talking about. But who am I kidding I dont know what the hell I am talking about. I am a bitter bean!!!!!
Its just gonna take some getting used to to be "free" again. After dating and living with someone for a year and a half you start to feel anything but free. But now I am free to fuck who I want and do what I want. Its like our flat chested friend Nelly once said, I am like a bird I'll only fly away. And you know why the caged bird still sings? Well she was sneaking out of her cage at night and fucking other birds.
I wonder how long it is acceptable to keep up this post break up I am gonna fuck who I want mentality before I am just another slut?

How long can I really keep this up, this new life style I have adopted.

Tuesday, July 30, 2002

So a shot in the dark is this coluem in The Austin Chronicle where peolpe write about some one they saw but didnt meet. On of my all time favorites went like this, You at the Faint concert wearing black me at the Faint concert wearing all black. Now of course I want mine a little more specific and I will marry the first person who writes about me. I shouldn't be that hard to spot the last show I went to I wore a shirt that said, Will Fuck for Coke.
Yada Yad Ya about my car. So she comes over and all I can think about is how I wanna hold her down and give her a make over. She is a pleasantly plump lesbian basket ball player type. She is a complete idiot and she keeps talking and talking untill finally I tell her Cheaters is on and she has to go. Bottom line I got all her info but I dont think my insurance gives a rats ass.
So anyhoo this girl end up comming back and leaves a note on my car. Her note reads something like this, mind you this is written on a chevoron envelope, if you knew my story you would know why I left leave me your number. There was no I am sorry, I can be reached at, and to top it off their was no money in the envelope. Well seeing as that I would never be caught dead in shoes that required white shoe polish I ended up writing my number relly big in hot pink paint on my windsheild. A day or two pass and then she calls dun dum. She starts fucking blabbing to me about how her mother has overain cancer and she has a breathlizer thingy on her car. So this is obviously not the first time she has f-uped
I just want to preface this with the fact that I am 5 days late and if I had a bat I would break a fat lesbian, basketball playing kneecap's. So I guess you could say I was involved in what some may call a hit in run. Late at night around 4am my roommate knocks on my door to wake me up. He said someone has hit your car. Thinking to myself that someone has probley just tapped my car and I would really rather sleep than go out side. Well my roommate assures me it is something I may want to check out plus the police are on their way. I go out side expecting to see a scratch, put my hand on my hip and let out a couple of hummms. Only instead I come out side and at first site of my car yell HOLY SHIT. This person hasnt scratched my car but she cas completly fucked it. A couple of boys from Starseeds( I live right behind this dinner) just so happen to be smoking a doobie outside and witnessed the whole thing. Oh but of course they got no licence plate number.
It's 9:15pm on a Friday night and this is the fourth call I have received from Lexus in a thirty minute time span, varing in degrees of importance. She must know important answers to important questions. What am I wearing tonight? Should she wear her "hooker heels" even though she wore them only three and a half months ago. I assure her no one will notice and remind her she has at best three weeks left before those heels end up on the shelfs at Niemen Marcus Last Call. Silenced by the cold hard facts she claims she is on her way and hangs up the phone.
Two beers and six outfit changes later I finish up the remainding touches of skillfully mastered cat-eye look and reapply my fruit flavored lip gloss. Although Lexus lives aprox. 10 min away and hour and a half later she shows up at my door. No time for small talk,she marches straight to my room and starts disrobing. She has decided from her short trip to my house she no longer wants to wear the outfit she has on because of her b.f. (back fat) Again I assure her it is next to impossible for a person who is 5'7' and 110lbs to have back fat. I quickly take a mental note to find out what exercises will target my own b.f. After molesting my closet for the umpteenth time she ends up wearing the exact same thing she started out wearing.