There's an old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin
He says, "Son, can you play me a memory?
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

i hated gone with the wind
but as much as i hated it i wish it were here to keep me company at night.

i miss kj.
even when i see him i miss him.
i'm like aching.
and then i come home and jared and victoria and remo are all packed up to go camping.
and they're going to get wasted.
and it's not fair to me. after all, i went to juvenile hall and i decided that woah i'm not gonna drink anymore. but i'm on extra house arrest even though i already learned my fucking lesson. and they have the option to go camping and i don't. and i'm being punished for drinking and they're going to get drunk. and it's like...i wouldn't.
it's like focus on the wrong area.
every single day, remo and victoria get high in their room; same as always.
and i miss kj
and i'm sick of it.
i don't ever see him anymore
and when i see him it's for just a few minutes and when is the last time i got a chance to look in his eyes and talk to him?
i'm very sad and lonely right now.

kj houpt turns me on
every time i look at him i faint
every time i hear his voice i'm howling
every time i kiss him i'm in heaven
the end

oh man
it's fucking weird becuase for like an hour and a half i'll be on the doorstep of hell. and muttering and shivering and sweating and crying i want to die. then suddenly the fever goes away and i'm cheerful and dancing and cooking.
but it's in phases, see?
oh man man man! i looked up on the dreaded influenza, and fiddle-dee-dee! they say it could lead to pnemonia and oh my gush that's totally likely what with my lung contusion thing. the doctors said i'd have more of a chance to develop pnemonia so i should moniter my breathing with that doohicky upstairs. the doohicky that i threw in my closet and haven't looked at since i left juvie.
and 36,000 people die of the flu every year in the US. who'd have thunk it?

i think scarlett o'hara is a rotten bitch for marrying Frank Kennedy. it's like DUDE that was your sisters beau! how dare you! and just to keep that wretched farm running that you aren't even living at! and ESPECIALLY when Rhett Butler is RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR STUPID LITTLE IRISH HEAD and all she has to fucking to is open her green envy evil eyes and see that oh dear, ashley's not that fantastic. obviously his only interest in her is carnal, as they have nothing in common anyway-not like rhett. She sits there at fanny elsings wedding and scorns everyone for hiding from the truth in their little lie-lives about how the cause is all great and it's okay they lost. going about the old ways and not opening their eyes as she's done to see that the old ways are gone. Yet in the orchard ashley was saying the same damn thing! how she was too real and he prefered his shadow puppet theatre. THEN SHE HAS THE GALL TO PRAISE HIS CHARACTER CONSTANTLY TO RHETT BUTLER!!! i will hate this scarlett bitch belle of the ball beauteous and headstrong to the day i die. because you KNOW rhett won't have her in the end.
and it's a pity-- they deserve eachother, selfish beasts.
but in spite of her horrid bitchiness and stubbornness and selfishness and callousness, you have to love how she does manage to get what she wants. and she can add lists of figures in her head.
i wish i could do that, scurvy cad.

once i finish reading gone with the wind i'm going to read that book i have... by fredrick douglas i think. i don't remember what its called american life as a slave or something... i swear gone with the wind gives you SUCH a point of view it's amazing. it is now necessary for me to read the wind done gone because there are so many ways you could go with it. and fuck the klu klux klan!

sometimes i feel like the smartest creature alive
sometimes i feel like shaking with fever all of a sudden and i can't bear all this sitting up and open eyes.

YUM CHICKEN SOUP!!!

I'm tired of hearing of young fellows, who think you know it all.
You know nothing, you have not seen a shot fired,
and you're waving the damn flag.

I'm just watching some bullshit.
On the news. It's fucking bullshit.
Reporters trying to win a fucking emmy.

It's the makeshift,
The patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself for your live telecast.

Coming live from my own funeral
Beautiful weather offered a nice shine,
Which is suitable for a full view of a forever altered skyline.
It's times like these I freestyle biased opinions every other sentence.
My journalist ethic slips when I pass them off as objectives.
Don't give me that ethical shit.
I've got exclusive, explicit images to present to impressionable american kids,
and it's time to show this world how big our edifice is.
That's exactly how they attacked,
when a typically dark-skinned disney villain.
Use civilians against civilians and charge the trojan horse into our buildings.
Using commercial aviation as instruments of destruction.
Pregnant women couldn't protect their children;
wheelchairs were stairway obstructions.
I had to back-pedal from the shower of glass and metal,
wondering if after it settles,
we'll find who provided power to radical rebels.
The melting pot seems to be calling the kettle black when it boils over, but only on our own soil, so the little boy holds a toy soldier, and waits for the suit and tie to come home.
We won't wait till he's older, though,
before we destroy hopes for a colder war to end.
I'll get a close-up of his head.

It's the makeshift,
The patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself while the stock markets crash.

The city is covered in inches of muck.
I see some more pictures of victims are up
Grieving mothers are thinking their children are stuck,
leaping lovers are making descisions to jump while holding hands, to escape the brutal heat; sometimes in groups of three.
The fallout was far beyond the toxic clouds where people look like debris 
But all they say when all was said,
beyond the talking heads, was the bloody dust with legs,
looking like the walking dead calling for meds.

All the hospitals overwhelmed,
volunteers need to go the hell home.
Moments of silence for firefighters were interrupted by cell phones.
Who's going to make that call, to increase an unknown death toll?
Its the one we rally behind.
He's got a megaphone, promising to make heads roll.
We'd cheer him on, but asbestos is affecting our breath control.
The less we know, the more they fabricate,
the easier it is to sell souls.


There is a new price on freedom, so buy into it while supplies last.
Changes need to be made;
no more curbside baggage,
seven pm curfew,
racial profiling will continue with less bitching.
We've unified over who to kill, so until I find more relevant scripture to quote,
remember, our kind is bigger, stronger, smarter, and much wealthier.
So wave those flags with pride, especially the white part.

We're selling addictive, twenty-four hour candlelight vigils on TV.
Freedom will be defended at the cost of civil liberties.
The viewers are glued to television screens, stuck,
'cause lots of things seem too sick.
I use opportunities to pluck heartstrings for theme music.
I'll show you which culture to pump your fist at,
which foot is right to kiss.
We don't really know who the culprit is yet,
but he looks like this.
We know who the heroes are,
they're not the xenophobes who act hard.
We taught that dog to squat,
how dare he do that shit in our own back yard.
They happen to scar our financial state,
and char our landscape.
Can you count how many times so far I ran back the same damn tape?
While the cameraman creates news and shoves it down our throats,
on the west bank, with the ten second clip put on constant loop to provoke US angst.
So get your tanks and load your guns and hold your sons in a family huddle,
'cause even if we win this tug of war and even the score,
humanity struggles.
There's a need of blood for what's been uncovered under the rubble;
some of them dug for answers in the mess,
but the rest were looking for trouble.

It's the makeshift,
The patriot,
the flag shop is out of stock,
I hang myself.
Don't waive your rights with your flags.

this sucks.

Okay all you June brides and Las Vegas tourists, June 2 will be a special day in the neon city. According to James Tegnelia, head of the Defense Threat Reduction Agency, Vegas residents and tourists alike will be able to see a “mushroom cloud” emanating from a 700-ton explosion scheduled for June 2 at the Nevada Test Site.

Perhaps you’re familiar with the atomic bomb testing southern Nevadans innocently witnessed in the 50s. Today it’s certainly difficult to fathom atomic bomb explosions as a spectator sport.

But that’s just what some of the 3 million June visitors and Las Vegas residents will witness on June 2.

“I don’t want to sound glib here,” remarked Tegnelia, “but it is the first time in Nevada that you’ll see a mushroom cloud over Las Vegas since we stopped testing nuclear weapons.”

Is anyone else alarmed by that statement?

The project is called Divine Strake and if you happened to see local news programs last night, you saw that the media now knows about the planned explosion. Can’t wait to see the flurry of media activity surrounding this.

And today’s Review-Journal, buried on page 8B in the Nevada section (why?), included a story by Tony Batt of the Stephens Washington Bureau about the blast.

Apparently Nevada’s congressional delegation was notified of the planned blast on Dec. 19, 2005 in a letter from the National Nuclear Security Administration. Of course, our elected officials are claiming words like “mushroom cloud” weren’t part of the notice. I’m sure if the words “mushroom” and “cloud” were in the letter they would have taken notice immediately.

Interestingly enough, Nevada Department of Administration official Zosia Targosz wrote in a Jan. 9 letter to NNSA that their proposal “is not in conflict with state plans, goals or objectives.” Great. Bring on the explosion, the mushroom cloud, and any radioactive particles that may happen to be part of the Nevada Test Site’s desert soil!

Perhaps our officials have been working feverishly to control the buzz that’s sure to surround such a significant explosion.

Why Divine Strake? Why now?

The test is part of a U.S. effort to develop weapons capable of destroying deeply buried bunkers housing nuclear, chemical or biological weapons (on foreign soil, of course).

And aren’t you glad the government is planning this test for Las Vegas? Apparently it’s of interest to our Russian friends, as Tegnelia said the Russians have been notified of the test. I’m certainly glad the Russians know what’s happening in Nevada before the Nevadans, or the rest of America for that matter. Thanks guys.

Divine Strake is a test scheduled for June 2, 2006 at the Nevada Test Site sponsored by the Defense Threat Reduction Agency. The 700-ton explosion has a two-fold purpose: 1) to study ground shock effects on deeply buried tunnel structures, and 2) to analyze the air blast produced by the buried charge and its modification as it propagates over the local terrain.

And since this is 2006 and not 1951 when the explosion “Dog” from Operation Buster, with a yield of 21 kilotons, was the first U.S. nuclear field exercise conducted on land (southern Nevada land mind you; with U.S. troops watching unprotected at a mere 6 miles distance), perhaps you’d like to know a little more about the Nevada Test Site.

The Nevada Test Site, approximately 1,375 square miles and larger than Rhode Island, is in Nye County about 65 miles northwest of Las Vegas. From 1951 to 1992 the Nevada Test Site was home to 952 announced nuclear tests (yes, many were unannounced; aren’t they sneaky?). The government also tested nuclear bombs elsewhere, but only 129 of them (many at the Pacific Proving Grounds in the Marshall Islands).

In the 1950s mushroom clouds from the tests were regular tourist attractions in Las Vegas where they could be seen from hotel rooms along the Strip.

Perhaps if you act soon, you could book the Strip’s most elevated hotel room with a view to the northwest and stake out the horizon on June 2. If you’re in town for a wedding you’ll certainly have a digital or video camera. You could probably even make some money selling the images you collect when the Defense Threat Reduction Agency does its thing. Good luck.

And for those of you planning on being June brides, what better day to say your vows than June 2 when for the first time in this century Las Vegas will be home to a mushroom cloud reminiscent of the 50s.

=====================================================
Plans for a Pentagon-led experiment that involves detonating 700 tons of explosives in the desert drew criticism from state leaders and a disarmament activist.

The explosion scheduled for June 2 at the Nevada Test Site is part of an effort to design a weapon that can penetrate solid rock formations in which a country might store nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction.

"I am concerned that tests of this magnitude have been planned without providing Nevadans with any information about the possible impact on their health or safety," said Senate Democratic leader Harry Reid in a statement Thursday.

Nevada Test Site spokesman Darwin Morgan said the test will be conducted about 90 miles northwest of Las Vegas, near the center of the former nuclear testing site.

The test, named "Divine Strake," will involve nearly 40 times the amount of commercial ammonium nitrate and fuel oil explosive set off in the largest open-air, non-nuclear blast at the site to date. In 2002, 18 tons of explosives were set off at the Nevada Test Site.

"This is nothing that's out of the bounds for us. That's what our expertise is in," he said.

Morgan said the site obtained the required state approvals and air quality permits in January. Officials from the National Nuclear Security Administration, which operates the site, alerted the state's congressional delegation and state government in December.

The Nevada Department of Administration responded with a letter stating: "Your proposal is not in conflict with state plans, goals or objectives."

No elected officials responded to the notice until Thursday, Morgan said. The test site is not required to seek public comment, he said.

"Given the level of contamination in areas where nuclear tests were conducted, I have real concerns about the dust and other pollutants that will be released into the air as a result of this explosion," said U.S. Rep. Shelley Berkley.

Disarmament activist Pete Litster said tests at the site violate international law. Litster, executive director of the Shundahai Network, said the site belongs to the Western Shoshone Indian tribe.

dear die-ary
i am confused.
confuzzled.
confused.
this is absurd!
this left and right!
this is what we can not count on.
can.
up
down
FUCK ROLLARCOASTERS!
fuck coffee!
i have court tomorrow. then i go to school, then i go to the dermatologist, then i go to independent study.
i'm so sick of the world.
and the fucking news.
i'm so sick of people that don't talk about anything important.
i'm so sick of being stupid.
i wish i could just...figure it out.
but drugs never helped me there.
i just thought i was getting it, but i wasn't getting it. not really, anyway.
what difference is there between this girl and any other.
what potential could i possibly have? especially without proper funds.
PROPER FUNDS!!! FUCKING money! bastards are taking money out of taxes yet to be paid.
YET TO BE PAID
that's like...horrible.
for me, for you, for everybody of the future; a future without clean air, a future where a days stay at the hospitl costs 20,000 dollars.
i'm serious. that's the bill my dad got for when he had that lung thing. then my brother who got a bill for $500 just for the doctors to tell him "it is unclear what this is, take some motrin."
and i can rant and i can rave and i can cry about how screwed up, how unfair, how illogical this world is.
but it wouldn't make a dimes worth of difference to me. and definately not a positive difference. it would just make it worse.
REMEMBER CECILIA, THE WORDS OF MARTIN LUTHER KING JR (plagerist! screams steven berry):"I have not said to my people "Get rid of your discontent." Rather, i have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action."
and the good things? remember those? when you sat on the concrete outside of juvenile hall, watching the clouds go by, that was a good thing. i wasn't inside a room with two beds, one toilet/sink, 119 bricks, 336 bricks, one door that can only be unlocked from the outside. That was a fantastic thing. and yes, after a mere instant of freedom within the brick walls i had to line up once more. yes, my hands were behind my back so they couldn't punish me with a bag lunch. yes, my mouth was zipped shut so there would only be a good report come court time. but that couldn't take away my freedom! in that moment, the freedom to turn the clouds into whatever i wanted to turn them into. Nobody can take that away from me.
the dynamic human spirit that refuses to submit.
just keep breathing, even with a lung contusion. just put one foot in front of the other; it doesn't matter if you ARE going to end up in folsom, because you're going to end up somewhere.
don't depend on someone else to give you a ride.
depend only on your own two feet.

We all know the official story of September 11th: four jetliners were hijacked by groups of four and five Arabic men armed with box cutters, who proceeded to fly three of the four jets into the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. Subsequently the World Trade Center Towers, weakened by the impacts and fires, collapsed into piles of rubble. Later in the afternoon 47-story Building 7, also weakened by fire, collapsed. (Or did you miss that detail?) The FBI had compiled a list of hijackers within three days, and it was so obvious that Osama bin Laden had masterminded the operation from caves in Afghanistan, that there was no need to seriously investigate the crime or produce evidence. The "retaliatory" attack on the Taliban would soon commence.

http://www.whatreallyhappened.com/wtc7.html

call it conspiracy theory, but watch the video first.

so i read the letter from birmingham jail by our savior martin luther king. then i tried to impress my dad with my glorious knowledge about martin luther, and he squashes my poor little soul by talking about how martin luther king was a plagerist. then i mention my newly acquired fact about how 30 years ago the top 100 cheif exectutives were making 30 times more than the average worker, and now they're making 1000 times the average worker. and he topped that by saying he heard it a few years ago, and it was important because japan's top executives were still at a mere 50 times the average worker, making japan a crapload better than the u.s.
and i made pancakes for my mom because it's her birthday,
but they came out gross and squishy.
so my poor little heart fire has been extinguished, and i will now throw myself from a very high building.
farewell.

LAYER ONE:
-- Name: cecilia
-- Nickname: lame
-- Birthdate: june fourteenth
-- Birthplace: san jose
-- Hair color: i dont know
-- Height: 5'something 4?
-- Righty or lefty: i don't care.





Layer two
-- Your heritage: i don't know
-- The shoes you wore today: boots, then these weird moccosin things then slippers
-- Your weakness: i have no weakness
-- Your fears: i have no fears
-- Your perfect pizza: chocolate cake pizza
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: learn japanese



LAYER THREE
-- Your most overused phrase: shut up? i don't know? so what's going on? i don't know. half the time i don't even know what i'm saying.
--your thoughts first waking up: does ANYONE keep track of that? that's the most ridiculous question there is. no one can fucking answer that, every day is different. sure there's like...a pattern, mostly people wake up thinking god already? or something along those lines but i don't fucking know! morning is morning, you don't remember your first thoughts. people just assume they woke up thinking it's a bad thing to be, awake. but really...in those moments when you first awaken, you're pure and you're real,and the thoughts you have then are forgotten, because they're part of this ancient thing called human.
-- Your best physical feature: my dick
-- Your bedtime: like 11, usually.
-- Your most missed memory: swinging on the swings at northside school with a 32 of miller in my hand, singing. that was a beautiful time when i was young and love didnt matter and achoholism didn't matter. that was a good time.



LAYER FOUR
-- Soda: is gross because UGH carbonation!! root beer is good though because it's sweet.
-- Fast food joint: in n out mmm or jack in the box fuckin 99 cent tacos hell yeah who cares if its tofu?
-- Single or group dates: depends on the mood i guess
-- Adidas or Nike: adidas
-- Chocolate or vanilla: vanilla
-- Cappuccino or coffee: coffee
-- Favourite football club: what is a football club?





LAYER FIVE
-- Smoke: yes
-- Sing: all the time. it gets annoying
-- Take a shower every day: i highly doubt that anyone takes a shower every single day of their life.
--have a crush(es): i have a thousand
-- Do you think you've been in love: i do
-- Want to go to college: i really dont. Really. but it has recently come to my attention that hello, unless i get a job with medical benefits or go to collegs i'm going to be kicked off insurance and i'm not going to get psoriasis medicine i so desperately need. college is a scam it's bullshit but i'm going to do it. but i won't enjoy it. especailly since ARGHHH i don't drink anymore ARHGHGHHGHG
-- Like school: most schools i've been to were crappy
-- Want to get married: maybe. i like the whole in sickness and in health thing. it's sweet.
-- Believe in yourself: sometimes a lot sometimes not so much
-- Get motion sickness: sometimes. not recently
-- Think you're attractive: i'm a hot tamale
-- Think you're a health freak: i take lots of pills
-- Get along with your parents: i'm on friendly terms with them
-- Like thunderstorms: unless i'm outside
-- Play an instrument: i play my...ass





LAYER SIX
In the past 6 months...
-- Drank alcohol: theres a long story about that
-- Smoked: in the past six hours
-- Done a drug: probably
-- Made out: yes
-- Gone on a date: a thousand
-- Gone to the mall: yes
-- Eaten sushi: no
-- Been on stage: yes, not like i was preforming, i was just standing there for a second
-- Gone skating: yes
-- Made homemade cookies: yes
-- Gone skinny-dipping: in the bathtub
-- Dyed your hair: purple!
-- Stolen anything: a thousand latex gloves





LAYER SEVEN
Ever...
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: no
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: shut up.
-- Been caught doing something: someone!
-- Been called a tease: i don't know
-- Gotten beaten up: my brother kicked my ass when we were fighting over who got what room.
-- Shoplifted: yes.
-- Changed who you were to fit in: i don't think so. i probably changed to fit out if that makes sense. i wish i could change who i am to fit in. maybe i'd be happier. but i'm stubborn as fuck.





LAYER EIGHT
-- Numbers and names of children: i have a 7 year old named Glen.
-- Describe your dream wedding: very cute clothes. not just on the bride and groom either, fucking everyone that goes gets a free outfit that is very cute. and everyone gets cake that is yummy. and nofx is playing. fuck it, elton john is playing! and it's in the middle of france! but in a really crappy street that's kind of gross and nasty, so it's like the passers by can be walking in their boring dirty lives and look in an ally and see a beautiful connection between two people, holding hands. because we don't walk down the aisle separately, we walk together, holding hands. fuck marriage.
-- How you want to die: overdose.
-- Where do you want to go to college: >_<
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: smart
-- What country would you most like to visit: africa.





LAYER NINE
In the preferred sex...
-- Best eye color: the kind of eyes that make you stop and look again
-- Best hair color: whatever
-- Short or long hair: short-ish
-- Best height: tall
-- Best weight: skinny
-- Best articles of clothing: a fanny pack and a doo rag!!
-- Best first date location: like a party like a concert like drunk drunk drunk drunk! by that i mean a nice restaraunt because i love cloth napkins NOT
-- Best first kiss location: seriously, who fucking cares? it's ONE kiss. what makes the first kiss the most meaningful? oh i want my first kiss to be under a waterfall at the edge of a field of roses! and there are petals flying in the wind and the wind makes my hair swirl all around and then we kiss and my leg lifts up like in the movies!! FUCKING WHO CARES!!! it doesn't matter! in a fucking storage closet for all i care! yeah, i like that. a storage closet.





LAYER TEN
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: 3 everything else is legal!
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: 2, and that doesn't include me.
-- Number of CDs that I own: a couple stacks.
-- Number of piercings: my 2 ears
-- Number of tattoes: zero
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: i don't like search the newspaper for a glimpse of my name. i'm pretty sure its been in there a few times though.
--Number of scars on my body: 5. more if psoriasis counts.
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: 3



that was lame.
i regret doing it.
okay make that 4 things i regret.

"I hear the voices and I read the front page and I know the speculation," the president said testily. "But I'm the decider and I decide what's best. And what's best is for Don Rumsfeld to remain as the secretary of defense."

We only have one car, the van, and my mom is being paid to use it to cart shit back and forth for A.R.C.
and now she's going all depression status because she feels like she can't make a commitment to a job, so she might as well quit.
and i feel like shit because if i hadn't been so drunk and pissed off that wouldn't be a problem.
my drunkenness has nothing to do with Remo's car being in the shop, though....
it's a really bad week.
I just want to go to school and see KJ, honestly that is all I want to do.
But that's fucking stupid, because i'm only going to see him for what? Lunchtime? 30 fucking minutes?
And I'm on house arrest.
And dad didn't come home last night. or the night before, or whenever he's supposed to come home.
and occaisionally I feel happy because soon i'll be off house arrest and I can see KJ more often, then it's like I'm hit in the head with a two by four. YOU MET KJS DAD IN JUVENILE HALL- that's not the greatest place to meet the father of the guy you want to marry.
and and and....what the hell do i want with kj anyway?
and what the hell does he want with me?
and why the hell do we even bother for fucking 30 minutes?
and i have to call adam and tell him, frankly, our family communication is so wretched that we don't know what is going on on a daily basis.
but it's the problem with the car. remo's car has been in the shop for way longer than it was supposed to be, otherwise we'd have no problem.
i'm so stressed out right now i could...cry.
just because i don't have any idea whats going on, but I can't help but blame myself.
what am i even doing home? i don't belong here i'm a....horrible person?
i should go to bed my mom said go to bed i'm not going to bed i'm just....going.
going
going
gone
i'm not worth anything to anyone.
except maybe kj. i saw him today. that was the best part of my day. he gave me a kiss.
i have psoriasis.
i lost my medicine for it and my skin's just getting worse and worse.
i feel like i'm choking.
why do i even bother with this shit? the whole shabam, why? it's like...this wild journey where you think you're going to be fine you think you're going to be fine and then you're shot in the chest.
and you fall off the roof.
and everyone knows your secrets.
and you frighten the old men in the hospital.
and all you ever wanted was for everyone to be happy and look what you went and did. you have demons inside.
you, who thought you were doing so well.
what horror.
i'm sick of this war.
i'm sick of red.
i'm sick of nobody understanding eachother.
i'm sick of dwelling on what's bad.

positive:
i'm not in juvenile hall anymore, though i very well should be.
positive:
there's a boy i'm completely in love with and he lives just in the next town
positive:
i don't have an ankle bracelete keeping me here
positive:
tobacco doesn't affect the pee test

right now negatives are just a lot easier to see.
why don't i ever just sit around and talk about how good everything is?
like apples. i really really like apples. we went to alberstons and we found these really really big ones. and one apple was as big as your hand. it was like, a worm-mansion! with 10 toilets! i mean, sure why do you need 10 toiletts when you only have one ass, but if the luxury is available, why not take it?
i remember once me and shannon were going to eat an apple together, but we decided to cut it in half first. and it's a good thing we did, because when we cut it in half there were all these worms twisting around inside. and we swore off ever going to luckys foodstores again. we were like nine years old. maybe luckys turned into alberstons because their apples were miniature and wormy, and alberstons had the cure in apple steroids. the barry bonds of the apple culture.
when i was in kindergarten, i got my fingerprints done. it was part of the jostens ident-a-kid project. on the front was my picture and basic information. on the back was my thumbprint and some random information. one of the things was "favorite athlete" and i said Barry Bonds. Me and my dad used to watch the giants, and since my dad was such a big fan of Barry Bonds, so was i. i remember going to a few giants games, actually. i remember waiting in a line for hours to get an autograph. i remember eating peanuts and seeing a guy catch a ball. i wished i had caught the ball, because that would be such a thing to boast about.
My dad coached the little league team. In fact i met carla because my brother and her brother were on the same team. me and her saw eachother at the games and we would sit under the bleachers and crack jokes and eat candy and one time i made her laugh so hard soda came out of her nose.
I was on the tee-ball team for three years in a row. in other words, i was terrible. to be perfectly honest i wasn't a bad ball player, i just got bored. when i was in the outfield i'd do cartwheels and chase butterflies. when i was on the bench i'd draw in the dust. I quit three years in a row. i got a trophy anyway, though, each time. when they handed it to me, some kid on my team said that they should give out trophys for quitting because then i'd have a million trophys. i think i beat that kid up.
baseball was important back then. Mark was on the baseball team, he was really good until he messed up his knee and ankle skateboarding. Remo was on the baseball team and i, always the tomboy, followed right behind him. we have team photos of all of us, and we have buttons with me holding a bat like a dork, remo holding a bat like a kid, and mark holding a bat like a pro.
this year, when i was riding the bus to school, i heard Barry Bonds' name mentioned on the radio. I felt like telling everyone to shut up so i could hear. I listened through the roar of the kids on the bus, and it turned out to be some scandal about Bonds being on steroids.
it kind of makes me feel fake, now that i look at it. he was my number one athlete, even if it was only because i was trying to be daddys girl.
but if Barry Bonds was really on steroids, then it was just a sham. Like the mansion apples. They're big and they're juicy, but they're not Real.
But boy do they taste good.

that's how i feel right now. that's the only way i can explain it.

okay, so there's these pills in my cabinet
and they are called fish oil omega-3
and my mom bought them for me a long time ago because she read it helps nasty-skin-disease-psoriasis.
and i just realized that, hey, why do i hate fish so bad when they can help my nasty skin?
so i'm going to go take a pill and say a prayer for the fish that died to make it. Uh..do they kill the fish to get the fish oil? yuck....that's gross and i'm going to look it up now....
yeah i can't even find any information on it other than BUY IT IT WILL DO YOUR HEART GOOOOOOOOOD

uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh
i am bored as a rotten tigermonkey
ahgghghgh
yay for fish and decreased risk of sudden death!

when i was in juvie, we were watching tv and there was this commercial for this website psoriasisconnections.com and i'd never heard of that before, but it sends out a free newsletter/magazine thing. so i went and signed up, and the website's full of all these stories of people that don't let psoriasis get them down. it's so cute, even though it's about something so annoying and disgusting.
and i learned about this disease that approximately two in ten people with psoriasis symptoms have, and we call it psoratic arthritis, AHH!! and for at least 2 months i've been considering the possibility that i may have arthritis because...fucking my fingers are always like...achy and stuff, especially when it's cold, and sometimes for no reason at all. i figured it was because of knitting, but i haven't knitted excessively since victoria was in the hospital for cancer. and if it turns out to be psoratic arthritis, that's kind of cute, because not only am i part of a mere 2 percent of the worlds population with psoriasis, but i'm even a slimmer portion of those bastards because aHHH my fingers hurt!!!
and hey hey hey, psoriasis isn't a skin disorder, it's an immune system malfunction. which makes me like wolverine, except retarded!
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This process is driven by a type of white blood cell called T cells, the attack force of the immune system. T cells start off as inactive, unable to recognize foreign invaders (or antigens) and with no instinct to attack them. However, once T cells are exposed to an antigen, they bind together with the antigen, and become active. They will now recognize the signal given off by the antigen, and target it for destruction whenever the signal is picked up.

In psoriasis, activated T cells move to your skin. This triggers the release of proteins called cytokines that serve as chemical messengers in your immune system. These cytokines send out the false alarm to your skin cells, activating their accelerated reproduction cycle. Cytokines also make the process snowball. They trigger inflammation. They cause the activation of even more T cells, and call T cells in other parts of your body to come to the skin. They even set off the release of more cytokines by the skin cells themselves.
One of the cytokines released by the T cells is called tumor necrosis factor (TNF). TNF plays a role in almost all psoriasis symptoms: inflammation, redness, pain, and itching in the plaques. It can make blood vessels multiply, and white cells move from the blood vessels into the skin. This may explain why you bleed so easily when you scratch psoriatic plaques.
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FUCK THOSE CYTOKINES!!!
"psoriasis” comes from the Greek word meaning “to itch.”
isn't that nice?


i'm ready to follow any directions in order to get rid of psoriasis, EXCEPT the quit drinking and smoking rule!! i don't know why, but it's kind of like hey HEY HEYYY why should I cut back on what I like, just because i have ugly skin, that, aside from itchiness, doesn't really affect me?
i'm the kind of cat that's going to wear shorts if i want to, and i'm going to go to the beach and if people ask anything about it i'm going to say it's contagious!
and it's like HA it's ugly, yes?? i punish you now because YOU don't have it, so you have to look at it, which is worse, i just have to deal with it, i don't have to look at it, you know?
of course, i do look at it and i go EWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!

okay so i need to get my ass back to the dermatologist and tell them to give me some more medicinessssssss because i lost a whole thingie of the best shit i ever used.. :(
it's got to be somewhere in my room, right??
i don't know this is gross who the fuck wants to hear about psoriasis?

No one knows what triggers your immune system to cause psoriasis. It is believed that you must have a genetic tendency to be susceptible to the condition. But once your immune system is triggered, it sends a false alarm to your skin cells, telling them that they’ve been damaged. The skin cells react by attempting to repair this “damage.” They begin reproducing at an accelerated rate (the process that takes roughly 26 days in normal skin now occurs in about 5), rising to the skin surface, dying, and building up there. The skin surface thickens. As blood vessels expand and more blood flows to the skin, it becomes red. The result is the flaky, red patches
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okay that's just gross.

oh my head is swirling.
my crazy crazy crazy crazy CHEMICAL WARFARE CHEMICAL WARFARE WARFARE WARFARE CHEMICAL WARFARE CHEMICAL WARFARE WARFARE WARFARE!!!
i do not want to eat eggs
goddammit dr seuss!
marks says fox in socks has subliminal prostitution messages.
here is how::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
first of all, the fox puts the knox in the box, right? and the picture shows the fox pointing at the knox in the box, symbolizing that the KNOX is for sale. right? cuz he's in a box. brand new prostitute.
then the chicks with bricks come-bricks of cocaine?
chicks with bricks and blocks and clocks come. the clock is a symbol for the fact that the prostitutes are paid by the hour, so it's all about time, right?
then they stack the chicks quickly, get it?
mark also says there's a secret in that the chicks with bricks are actually chicks with dicks and the chicks with blocks are actually chicks with cocks. although i think bricks could be tits, but he seems hell bent on the shemale thing.
but then mr knox says his tongue isn't quick or slick so he just can't handle all these chicks
so mr fox says i'm sorry mr knox and brings in a new slut, sue, who has a thing for sewing.
anyway, the next thing you know there's blue goo all over the place that mr fox wants mr knox to put in his mouth!
then suddenly bim and ben come, and they bring their brooms, which are actually penises right? then bim and ben bend eachothers brooms, right? and they "break" and suddenly there's a huge parade with big bands, and bens band bangs and bims band booms. i call this an orgasm. The next thing you know there's a guy that licks lakes with his duck, which is for all you people with animal fetishes.
then the rest of it, the cheese trees and the tweetle beatles, is just to make the book seem innocent
---------------------------------------
fuckin mark, making dr seuss so obscenely perverted!

seriously though the best part of that book is this::
when tweetle beetles fight it's called a tweetle beetle battle. and when they battle in a puddle it's a tweetle beetle puddle battle. And when tweetle beetles battle with paddles in a puddle, they call it a tweetle beetle puddle paddle battle AND when beetles battle beetles in a puddle paddle battle and the beetle battle puddle is a puddle in a bottle....they call this a tweetle beetle bottle puddle paddle battle muddle AND....when beetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles and the bottle's on a poodle and the poodle's eating noodles...they call this a muddle puddle tweetle poodle beetle noodle bottle paddle battle!
i could say that out loud till doomsday and not tire of it
or get it right for that matter.

ughhhh
retarded!!
i just went outside to smoke
and then my mom comes up the driveway
and i run inside and now i'm pretending to innocently do my homework or something.

then my love says you can cab in my fever baby
and i still haven't stopped laughing

i'm lonely.
my hair is frizzing out in every direction.
my heart feels cold. sweaters don't help.
i feel like a really bad egg.

not even knitting can help me now, i just sigh and put the needles away.
we went to kmart and i bought some things.
i got this floss that has like... toothpaste wannabe in it, so when you floss your teeth you feel like you just brushed them. it tastes delicious and the floss is multicolored.
that's the most exciting news i have.

i feel like...i don't want to go to school.
i feel like "i told you so"
it's bitter and conceited.

i made all these stickers that say like I support world war, i love war, i voted for bush, i have herpes, i have menengitis, i have bad breath, kick me, i harbor arabs, kill all the arabs, i love terrorists, don't touch my car, i cheat on my taxes, i cheat on my wife, i kick my dog, i beat my wife, i can't read, i'm AMERICAN bitch, i'm better than you, my wife makes more money than me, bad in bed-great at golf, who needs trees?, who needs god?, i kill babies and a whole bunch of other stupid shit. then when we went to kmart i stuck them on peoples cars and on poles and stuff. it was fun i guess


AHHH
i hate myself.
i had no reason to hate myself before.
now i'm like...a serious fuck up miss i went to juvenile hall.
ugh i'm like...a really bad egg, get it?

i feel so bad about everything i've ever done.
i don't want to taint people with my presence.
is there school tomorrow?