I think I would like to procure a subdermal anchoring piercing right where my spine ends so that I may attach a tail if the mood strikes me.

I have always wanted a tail though I won't really be able to move it other than by wiggling.

I want to collect a bunny tail and a cat tail and a fox tail and a dinosaur tail (ala Fear and Loathing) and a deer tail and a dolphin tail and a wolf tail and an ocelot tail and a koala tail. All humanely harvested or artificial, of course.





I had a dream Alec Baldwin raped me and I became traumatized / disgusted. So I asked Kirsten Dunst what to do and she recommended deliberate and precisely directed ignorance. So I just beat the shit out of him.




I have a bug bite on my love handle. Buggie, you are the only thing that dares to grasp my handle. And only because you found you could take something from me: my precious, tainted, iron-deficient, easily drawn, easily lost blood. I hope you got fucked up beyond your capacity after downing that shit. Can't hold your drink, two in the pink, one in the stink. Or whatever.





The lingering pungence of pho on your fingers and clothes and breath and hair is a crucial reason why I cannot enjoy pho. Smelling it in the car on the way home gives me a headache. Hell no. Though I suppose rubbing the discarded lime rinds into your fingers and mouth would alleviate the odor some. Then wash your hands. Still does nothing about your clothes though. Strip and burn em?




I am very shy though usually kind and extremely sensitive and scatter-brained with a tendendy for bursts of bizzaro whimsy and vicious snarling when slightly provoked for which I occasionally apologize.






How do I pick up a bunny?!?!!

Hmm.. Wasn't I planning to quit smoking everyanything months ago?

Keep thinking I will grow out of it but maybe I need to be more diligent and less.. infamously whimsical and slightly unhinged.

Bah.

Food and pharmaceuticals and stoges, my greatest weaknesses and poopiest vices. I hate them terribly.. But they're "sooooo~ yummyyy."




By the time I was in fifth grade I knew how to dry-swallow pills by the handful. Just the memory of it and every time after that makes me gag bitterly. Blurhhp. Grody.

I will stabbity you.

Take that. And that. Oh hoh, touche mohn-sewer. But you cannot catch mee I'm the gingerbread man. Also, backup switchblade. In my shoe. There's a surprise in my hat too. Surprise! Go go vivi gadget underoo cannon! PHOOOMP!

Delightful.

You die now.





I'm done with classes.

Now I can do exactly the same thing I've been doing.

Um I don't remember. Working, reading, writing, extreme bunny-play, errands, eating, researching trivial though fascinating topics and going to Costco.

I don't have my own Costco membership card so Hana and I always have to stealth it ghetto-style and deftly meld into some large Asian family. Similar features and general ignorance utilized to maximum efficiency. Hell, the workers probably don't even care but anything to make us feel accomplished.

Yes, plodding uncomfortably close to strangers in a half-assed attempt to enter Costco incognito counts as accomplishment.




My actual car is back. They did something to the battery and reset the radio and now it is deathly silent when I drive. It only has a cassette player (which does not accept cassette adapters, I've tried. Very much so.) and a radio, whose stealing-prevention code I need to find and enter. To amuse myself I sing any song that comes to mind.

So far, Bohemian Rhapsody is what I've been attempting.

Galileo figaro, MAGNIFICO oh oh oh oh oh OH! Oh mama mia mama mia mama mia let me go. Beelzebub has a.. doo dee doo aside for mee for meeee for MEEEEEEE!!

And yeah. You know what happens next.