AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

FUCK SHIT PISS FUCK IN YOUR HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am SOOO pissed at my slllloooooooooooowwwwwwwwww computer. WTF? Is it the computer? Is it the internet? Is it satan? I bet it's Fuckchops. Or Henry. I bet it's fucking Henry!!! AAAAAAAA.

Anyway, I read THL and suddenly want to post. I haven't been regularly posting in like...a year. And I never really regularly posted ever, as it were. But that is neither here, in Arcata, or there, wherever there is. I wonder if there is dark and rainy like here, in Arcata. Outside of course. Not in my apt. It's dry and lit in my apartment.

This is a love letter for Fuckchops, who my heart currently belongs to:

YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! WHY DO YOU EVER EVEN CONTACT ME?! YOU MAKE NO FUCKING SENSE!!!! I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU.

What do you think? I wonder if it's too long? I've been told by some dating advice capitalist monger opportunist not to write long messages to guys. Cuz they are turds. And turds don't have very long attention spans. Heh. Turd. Long.

ANYWAAAAYYY...yeah, I never got into blogging enough because of some reasons that I will address in short. Maybe in list form?

1. I don't know how to use a computer

Um, that about sums it up actually. OH, and the non-anonymous issue. Because I set it up in a non-anonymous way. And then just never really was motivated to start a new one. Or didn't care enough? Is there a difference? Motivation? Interest? Hmmm...

Yea. I LOVE reading THL, cuz then I can write whatever I want too. Not that I have adventures and a boyfriend. Or a career. Or a lap top that I know how to use. But just that I have random thoughts and am liberated to put them in small paragraph type thought segments and not edit them. Not to say that THL doesn't edit her shit, what the fuck do I know?

I know that if I don't fucking CHILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL my face is going to fall off. I am not going to go into my medical issues right now, but they are mounting and worsening. They are worsor than they've ever been. Well, actually Halloween was perhaps a pinnacle, nay, the acme of worsenessness. I need to pee and um, cut up my new shirt so it's fashion forward and supah cool for my shitty minimum wage bagel shop job. And sort through papers. The bane of all reality and sent here from the alien demon government monsters to steadily turn me from marginally functional to, say...on the streets babbling to myself about Monchhichi or McDonald's mostly soy burgers and how good they are and would they be considered vegetarian and could I eat one and still say I was a vegetarian and would I want to because I would likely get diarrhea and would it be worth the ring of fire and could I use a McDonald's restroom in that case because even though I was a street person at that point I would very much be a paying customer and they couldn't send the alien demon government monster cops to take me and make me one of them and read my thoughts and send me out to recruit other unsuspecting marginally sane people to merge in to the likes of them.


(update: the computer is still being slow and STILL making me want to put a used catheter in a nice person's mouth. Furthermore it makes me not want to spell check. So, if there are spelling issues, you can blame the internet, or my computer. Or satan, which spell check wanted me to capitalize. They also wanted me to call boys Tarts. I'm not making shit up.)