“Do you guys, like, put cheese on like, turkey?”
…that question isn’t even worth answering.
So, Kent’s roommates always come in fifteen minutes before we close and they are the equivalent of “ass cheese”. Kent…now you can tell your roommate I blogged about him.
I wish I knew where that woman who calls cream cheese “that spread” and “sour cream” and “sauce” lived. I would send her a gigantic tub of cream cheese with “CREAM CHEESE” written five million times on the box.
I also wish that a certain someone would not bring in their greasy ass biscuit-thing and ask me to toast it with butter and add two eggs. You…whoever you are…if you want a biscuit A) go to McDonalds or B) cook that shit at home.
bagel rant to be continued…
c’est la vie d’une fille
I am trying to have a little fun in my life and no one wants me to. So I agree to your terms and conditions…I agree not to have fun.
But only for a limited time…
I don’t have enough money to go to Coney Island or Amsterdam and I’m sad. 
I NEED TO SELL SOME PAINTINGS, DAMNIT!
Me + Amanda + (hopefully) Sarah are going to Coney Island…FINALLY!
I’m going to pack all of the skankiest shit I can think of – big hair wigs, sleezy animal print clothes and cut-offs, and I’m gettin’ my nails done…long and acrylic!
And if Sarah goes, we’re going to meet the Jersey Shore boys…haha
Can’t wait!
It’s time to go West again young princess…patterns in the dunes…O’Keefe on my mind.
Big words only make you seem pretentious (word of the month). That’s why I keep it simple people.
Mr. Merkl took this the night we wrote the obituary. The look on my face pretty much sums it up; I’ve got a lot on my shoulders since Dad died, and I don’t know how to deal with it. BUT…
I will deal with it, and be stronger in the end.
MTV TrueLife “I’m a Fanboy” is so tragic….
and also pretty hilarious.
When I was a little girl and Power Rangers was all the rave, everyone played “I wanna’ be a Power Ranger” and I thought they were all dumb because I never watched that ridiculous show. However, I still wanted to be included in my classmates dumb playground game because HEY, what seven year old wants to be left out – (that’s sad) – ???
I never got to play. And now I am thankful. I remember watching all of the girls fighting over who would be the pink ranger.
Fanboy…you are awesome.
“Fifi” = my car…and she is very unhappy with me, and guess what?
I DON’T CARE. That bitch. I just paid $180 for a new alternator and the hooker decided that her battery is dead, which is totally unacceptable. NOW I have to buy a new battery.
Fifi is needy…
Now I have to walk to school at 7:00 AM in Antarctica – yuck!
“Then I thought about boxing and what my father had taught me about it. To tighten your fists hard. To strike out straight from the shoulder and never punch backing up. How to cut a punch by snapping your fist inwards, how to carry your chin low, and to step toward a man when he is falling so you can hit him again. And most important, to keep your eyes open when you are hitting in the face and causing damage, because you need to see what you’re doing to encourage yourself, and because it is when you close your eyes that you stop hitting and get hurt badly. ‘Fly all over your man, Les,’ my father said. ‘When you see your chance, fly on him and hit him till he falls.’ That, I thought, would always be my attitude in things.” (Richard Ford, from Vintage Ford “Communist”)
posts have been put on hold over the holidays. I have to say…2009 = probably the worst year of all time for me. However, 2010 marks a new year and a new decade…
What I will do in the new year:
sell some paintings, travel everywhere i want to go (no matter how much it costs – i’ll take out a loan), make all A’s again, kill a deer for Dad and Julia (even though I don’t know ANYTHING about hunting!), build a tree house, see more people, do more, love more, work harder, go fishing more often…list goes on…
pain that is not prepared for.
he couldn’t sing…and we made fun of him…but he loved – everything in life – so much…
he really couldn’t sing when he was drunk…but he sang with all his heart 
I love you daddy.
Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door
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