Kids can be so cruel.
2008-08-22 12:12 a.m.
I thought the blog could do with a bit of a face lift, as could yours truly. I'm thinking maybe even throwing in some rhinoplasty, liposuction and drinking only fruit juice for the rest of my life, but that is a whole other blog entry. In fact, it could be a whole new blog. Kungfukitten's bodily neuroses and which surgical techniques could fix them lickity split tickity boo. Take that Kevin, who said I was too fat to F@ck but didn't want me to date other boys, what do you think off the 80 pounds of fat just sucked off my body and dumped into the backseat of your damn honda accord! Here, Marshall, who used to make fun of my huge nose in junior high. Take it, it's yours now, I've got a newer smaller one. Uh, Rachel, remember when you told laura "Ha ha ha, if KFK can wear a bikini then anyone can." Yeah, well sorry for developing tits before you but here's a present for you. It's my midriff that was removed from my tummy tuck. I carried it around with hate for twenty years, now it's your turn. And for the rest of you. Ha ha. Okay, that probably says more about me than the kids who picked on me. The problem is I can't remember all the nice things people said about me but I can remember every mean spirited thing said about me. Why do we carry that stuff around with us and why is it so darn hard to get rid of? I've been trying to look at myself with kindness and honor and treat myself nicely. I think I do a good job but I keep finding knicks and scrapes where others weren't so kind. It reminds me of the Simpsons when Marge says "Kids can be so cruel!" And Bart says "We can? Thanks mom!" Lisa: "Ouch!"1 People have tried to sell me Viagra
Guilt and stuff.
2008-07-29 4:03 p.m.
Even though I tried to not celebrate my birthday, I still had some sneaky friends do neat stuff like text me and have a card waiting for me in my mailbox. Even my Flickr and Diaryland friends figured it out and send well wishes. You sneaky people! I bet MySpace helped out a bit. ;) I turned a big milestone that I can't write about because I certainly don't feel like I'm *cough* *cough* *hack*. When I told the cute young checker at Safeway on Hawthorne it was my birthday he stared at me for a long time and then determined I was in my mid-twenties. I nearly kissed him. I'm in a weird state where I feel like I can't celebrate anything or feel happy about anything because my daddy's sick. You know? I spend way too much time sitting up at night thinking about death and how unfair life is and when am I going to die and is it going to be soon? An wow, time goes by and I'm not doing anything. I haven't made my mark here. I stayed up for three nights over the weekend because I was scared I was going to die if I went to sleep. I think sleep deprivation can make you insane. More insaner. Whatever. I need to find a way to celebrate my life without feeling guilty. But how?4 People have tried to sell me Viagra