Where You Goin', Where You At?
I struggle so much with wanting to be up to par with others. I want to blog as well as Anne or Heather. I want to write songs or play guitar as well as Devin. And I'm pretty certain I would want to look as good as that hag that my ex may or may not currently be dating. This is troublesome and creates anxiety. I must relax and give thanks for being me. The only alternative at this point is Klonopin, and don't think it isn't readily available in my home, because we all know very well that it is.
After checking my old hotmail account, that sat still for the week I was off line, I found that the inbox had been seized by 742 political organizations who needed me to sign their petitions. So...that's what I did today.
I was excited to see 3!! comments on last night's lame post. Low and behold, they were pseudo comments by impostors, hustlers. I miss the days of Michael ranting about the liqua stoe on his Crescent City Sucks blog. And bopping over to fill my life, and every comments window, with his charm. As well as hand holding me through each one of my pi Xs infinity moods.
Right now I want Ken. Clarification: I ALways want Ken. But since I can't have him, I want other things I can't have. I want Tiffany to come loaf out with me, and watch Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle, whilst we inhale kettle corn and Celestial Seasonings Roastaroma caffeine free perfection, made all yum with French vanilla, soymilk creamer. I am currently addicted to sugar and crack because both came in my poor people's free food box Tues. All the crack and the Snack Pack are gone, and I am left only with emptiness, and DSL.