Jocamo fi na ye (the black cat returns!)

I am running out of song lyrics; I am down to translating. XD

I skipped with Mary this week, for a number of reasons: First, I am tired of being so bloody self-obsessed. The amount of time I have spent in contemplation of All That is Ancodia in the past few months exceeds the amount of time spent in the same way for, oh, MY ENTIRE LIFE, by a magnitude of exactly eleventy-billion and six.

I am officially quite over myself, thank you very much.

Second, I am as uncomfortable with her talk of 'healthy sexuality' and my need to partner up as I am with my father's occasional talk omitting 'healthy sexuality' and focussing on my need to partner up. I feel no such need. I have felt, known really, that no such beast exists for many years now. The number of people who want to walk through an abandoned amusement park -- taking pictures, talking about robots and zombie apocalypses, discussing serial and spree killers and arguing over whether Phil Hartman (z"l) was channelling a dollop of Jack Cassidy (z"l), or if the persona was just a zeitgeist-like coincidence -- numbers exactly one:

Me.

Third ... I'm bored. I went to buy makeup. I got Too Faced's lip plumping krappe even though my lips need plumping like Joan Rivers needs another face lift, but, alas, the shite doesn't work. Or my lips are as fat as they are going to get, period. I may try Lip Fusion, but back to my story. I also got TF's smexy powder and kabuki brush, so I shan't be shiny any longer, thanks for caring. While I was at Whatzit, I saw a new brand that is called something like Ingsoc (no, seriously), and it is cheap and the shadows are something like 78% pigment for $7.50, so you know I'll be back this weekend, and I'll drag Meg. They had some stupendous orange and yellow hues, and orange and yellow are the new 'fuck you, I want to put this on my eyelids'. Everybody knows that.

Ok, well, you know it *now*.

I have basically spent the whole week in hiding, but that's ok, 'cos my sertraline got all upped and junk. I don't think it is working. ::taps foot::

Turkey really did a smashing job on my hair. I could cry. I have exactly what I've wanted, a layered hime-style cut with the kind of payos action on the sides. So then I went to buy more makeup, and ended up having the salesgirl try to convince me that Jesus is king and blah. Oh, the hell I go through for being honest. Saying I am not religious does *not* mean I want you to convince me that yours is 'right'. Ever notice that no-one comes up to you and says, 'hey, doll! I'm in the shittiest, stupidest religion of all time, and I'd like to share it with you!'...no? Umm, that would be because everyone thinks *they* are right. Just an observation.

Fourth, I can't think of a fourth reason. I have been on a marathon of Very Old Television practically all week, and I am going to go fall asleep watching a massive crush I have had since I was like, six or seven. No, not Batman. I'd tell you all about it, but someone would just think I am hideously demented.

But Batman was an awesome guess. That one I'll admit to.

Love you, mean it.

Oh! Fourthliest was that I do not want to discuss fucking VD. That's right, Valentine's Day. The end of the Holiday Season, and the worst holiday ever. I have never had a nice one. People suck. I plan to be alone. I did buy Borghese gloves and booties for Meg in case whatever closet fucktard she is dating doesn't give her something. Nobody puts Meg in a corner, and all that schmaltz.

Okay...back to pickling my brain.





- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone