I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
Yesterday in order to ease myself into some sort of sleep I bought various homeopathic pills and lotions. I am adverse to taking anything chemical (even Proplus makes me see triple and convulse) so I spent a small credit card fortune on stuff that I hoped would help me get a good 4 hours sleep. I bought Kalms because they are centuries old and I trust old stuff as well as enough lavender to start my own garden which will ensure I attract many an old person. Like I say, I like old stuff.
I guess my evening was ok. I can feel shit and shove on some Britney or anything with a hip swinging beat and that’s me, up dancing like a mad person. Sometimes I don’t even get up and remain in my chair swinging the shoulders clicking my freezin’ fingers. WHY? WHY god did you invent chair dancing? It’s so uncool. I loate chicks that think they are Madonna on LSD and and wiggle everything and even manage to rotate their hips while sunk into a large sofa that was made for losing your arse. I don’t get it. I mean I love to dance and have even been known to pull off a tap dance mid routine to Steps but I just don’t do chair dancing. I think it’s mainly the head motions that accompany this ‘sport’. Funky chicken has never been a good look. Even hot chicks can’t pull this off and hot chicks I normally let off with pretty much anything.
I watched Badgirls with as much interest as a lesbian viewing nob and worried about how much sleep I needed before I could go party on Saturday. Instead of lying there eyes open for hours thinking about all the stuff I don’t wanna ever think about, I shut my eyes and before I knew it, it was 4.30am. Impressive. However, I think the Kalms decided their work was done and needed to help no more so I lay for bout an hour thinking about all the stuff I don’t even wanna think about. Well at least the ‘bruises’ under my eyes have slightly decreased which is a shame in a way cos I looked like I was in Badgirls for awhile, no one would have messed with me and my battered junkie look.
Yesterday I ate half a tin of beans smothered in brown sauce (a Straight Man A favourite also. Any excuse for a link huh?) with a liberal sprinkling of cheese. It should have tasted good. It felt too much like effort. As much effort as it is gonna take to stop myself from letting one go every 4 seconds. Please, if anyone sees me on the bus, do not, I repeat, do not come within shouting distance of me. I fuckin stink.
Listening to: snap
People who can talk to you more than once a day, if needs be
Pulled arse muscles…
After effects of beans
Coursework due in next week, fuck
3/22/2002 09:15:00 AM
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