"Docile Barbie without the slut thing and the missing genitals"

Life is good. Well… life is complicated. It’s gotten really, really, really, complicated the last few months, but it’s so good. Chocolate, desert mountains, olives, foreign money, old men that smell like cigars, chi, Firefly, kisses behind the ear, warm pillows in the winter kind of good. But it’s also that kind of complicated that’s irritating, teary, red-eyed, no sleep, apologetic, gut wrenching, gritted teeth, long talks kind of complicated that is somehow all worth it. It’s worth all of that tenfold. God, why must romance turn you into a romantic. But life is simply complicatedly good.

I’ve also gotten a new computer, so yay about life being good, and here I come #firefly! You don’t know how dependent you are on the internet until your computer breaks and only lets you on every once in awhile for tiny ten minute increments before it goes all bad ass black screen on you and you are forced to chant “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckalicious , fuckendous , fucking fuckity fuck, fuck on ice, fuck squirrels… aw, fuck”. But the new computer (yet to be named) is all nice, and pretty, and doesn’t like bad language. It’s like a docile Barbie without the slut thing and the missing genitals.

... not that my new computer has genitals... it's just not missing them...


You deserve death! People probably use AIM
to complain about how damned irritating you
are, and sometimes laugh through their pain at
your entries. You're either a teenager or a
strange middle-aged woman, but without the
charm typically intrinsic to either of them.
You not only update too often, but what you say
is often unintentionally hilarious. But that's
not enough to endear you to anyone.



Please die.


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