TumorAttitude

Why I didn't sleep

2011-08-05T13:30:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had somebody completely crazy yelling at you and you had no way to calm them down, make them stop, or get away from them?
She wasn’t exactly yelling at me. I was neither the source nor the contributor to her anger, just the way she let it out it seemed. She was venting at me, venting to somebody who was completely passive and had to listen to her and couldn’t do anything about it no matter what she said. There was fire in her words, rage, pure evil. Venom dripping from every syllable her forked tongue produced and I was a witness to it all. I was very uncomfortable.
Pain, she said. She spoke of pain. Pain inflicted on her by others that she had no part in. Pain she did not bring upon herself in any way. She spoke of injustices that had befallen on her, many of them and unspeakably horrible ones at that. I have no way to measure the feelings that she felt at the time or the pain that she went through and its not my place to judge but the way she spoke of it made me so jumpy, so nervous. I’m sure my discomfort came through in my voice, although I didn’t speak much. I just let a few words squeak out. “Oh god, that’s terrible.” I’d hear myself say. “You’re so strong. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” I heard myself agree with her even though I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing with, it just seemed as if it was all I could do to get her rage to fizzle out a little.
She talked about violence. Pain, she said. Pain is not what I deserve, I cannot deal with any more pain. I want others to feel pain, she said. I want to make them hurt worse then I have, physically and mentally, I will do all I can to make them pay. Revenge, she said. She was vengeful. If the opportunity arises, they will pay, I will have my revenge. Her eyes looked smaller then normal and dark but full of fire at the same time. They were shaped in such a way that they were pointed at both ends, like darts. Like daggers. She talked of torture, of murder. She talked of blood, gore, severed limbs, slit skin and punctured flesh.
She spoke of hellfire and warfare all reigning down on the person to have contributed to her mighty suffering. I nodded my head up and down.
I would feel no remorse, she said. Hate, I deserve to hate. I am justified in the way I feel. I believe that was the only part that I agreed with. One is always justified in one’s feelings and talking about them is wonderful. I have none of the answers and if I judge, I do it unfairly. I sin, I am as bad as many if not worse than most. But the way she spoke of it, of her Pain, of her Hate, of the wounded, limping end she lusted for so much, I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t do anything about it at the time, what was there for me to do? I didn’t want to make her feel worse. I didn’t want to upset her in any way. I just sat there. I rolled over on my belly like a dog. I had no idea that this was inside of her but she showed me all of it. She pulled out the ugliest, rotten, blackened hidden away parts of her being. She tugged them out of herself like a weed, bringing up the roots to be sure she didn’t miss anything, and smacked me with them over and over again.
I did not sleep well last night after this event took place. Tossing and turning on my side trying to quiet the visions of Hate, Pain, and Hellfire. I felt weak but who wouldn’t? What could I have done? I closed my eyes and held my arms straight down at my sides, forcing myself into a restless sleep.
I remember that after she had finished speaking and her breathing seemed to become steady more steady, I asked her how she felt. She said good. She had let everything out. I was shaking but it was dark and although I could sense all of her movements and tensions, I don’t think she noticed. Maybe this will be good for her. Although clearly it wasn’t good for me, I think she is worth the sacrifice. Unstable as though she may be, I like her. She’s interesting. If this happens again though, perhaps I’ll try to only be around her when I am stoned.

Oh god.

2011-08-05T11:26:00.000-07:00

My mom found my condoms.

I was sitting on my bed talking to a boy when my mom picked my lock, walked in, bothered me about something trivial, didn't leave when I asked her to, didn't leave after I told her she makes me unhappy, called me awkward in front of him, didn't notice that I wasn't laughing at her stupid jokes because she was laughing too hard at them by herself, and noticed the box of ultra-thins on the floor.

"What's this?" she said.

"I'm nearly a legal adult. Go away." I said.

She looked shocked. He held onto my arms to calm me down. I looked my mom in the eyes and saw shock. I saw fear. I saw disappointment. I didn't look away. I'm not afraid of you, I tried to say with my eyes. I'm smart enough to make my own decisions. I'm not a baby anymore, my eyes screamed at her. Go away. Let me think for myself. Quit shaming me for something that doesn't really matter. It's none of your fucking business mom, my eyes shouted at her. Leave leave leave leave leave.

She threw her arms up and walked out of my room, shutting the door behind her.

What the hell do I do now, I keep asking myself. I don't want to talk to her about this. I don't want my mother to shame me for having sex. I don't want to listen to her lecture me about how big of a deal it is and how it will ruin my life. Sex is not that big of a deal. She's wrong. Being a virgin doesn't make you a golden moral beacon. Being sexually innocent makes you sheltered, not a better person.

I'm not a bad daughter. I'm a bit lazy, sure, I could keep my room cleaner, do the dishes more often without being asked. I could try harder in school, I could talk back to her less and I could give her the benefit of the doubt when she says something that makes my insides rot at the corners. I'm a bitch sometimes and I fight with her because we live together and piss each other off. But I'm not a bad daughter. I do what I'm told. I listen to her talk about her problems because she has no one else to tell. I work hard at my relationship with her even though she annoys the shit out of me most of the time.

She means well. She loves me. She doesn't want me to get hurt. She means well when she tells me to stop acting like a whore. I don't listen to her but I know that she means well. That's what I keep telling myself. My mother is biased. She associates sex with corruption. She thinks it's bad. I'm 17. I used a condom. I tried to talk her into getting me birth control but she would not budge. I'll try again. She'll probably let me. I don't know if she loves me more than she loves her morals but I hope she loves me enough to take me to a doctor and help me to be safe.

I don't want to think about what will happen if I get pregnant. My mom won't help me. Maybe I won't even tell her. I'll find somebody else to. That would kill me inside. I wish I could trust her. I wish I could talk to her about these things. Or about anything really. She isn't a good listener. She doesn't care. She remembers to take me to therapy sometimes though. When I seem like I really need it.

Oh god. I need it now. What if I'm pregnant? What if the condom broke without us noticing? What if I have a disease now? I told her I wanted to see a doctor two weeks before it happened. Then a week before it happened. Then a few days before it happened. She didn't care enough to. She didn't think it was necessary. What if I'm in trouble now? I am so fucking scared. I need an STD test, a pregnancy test, maybe an abortion or medication, and definitely the fucking birth control shot. And weekly therapy. I need her to care enough about me to help me. She doesn't though. I love her. I forgive her. It's okay mom. I know it's not your fault. Your life has been hard and you've been strong enough to push through. I need you now but you can't help me. I love you anyway though mom. You'll never read this. I'll try to get what I need without your help. I'm sorry I couldn't wait another year to lose my virginity but it just happened. And I was scared and now I'm fucking terrified but I don't regret it.

Gum

2011-07-07T00:08:00.000-07:00

Gum is horrible for your digestive system.

I read that somewhere. I forget where. It's horrible for your digestive system because it makes your stomach produce excess acid and it makes your jaw wear out quickly. That's why some old people can't chew at all. Because they wore their jaws out. So they eat soup and baby food and other such mush and they try to gum it but sometimes they miss and it dribbles down their chins, staining the front of their kitten sweaters and their worn flannels and their white T-shirts, yellowing at the collar and under the arms.

I stopped chewing gum. I don't want to get old. I don't want to be worn out. I don't want my body to be damaged to the point where I can't fix it. That's why I wear sunscreen everyday and have no color in my skin. No cancer, no wrinkles. That's why I skip out on junk and processed foods and try to walk around and exercise a bit. No stomach cancer, no toxins ingested, no muscle atrophy.

I smoke weed. I worry. I don't worry about getting caught smoking weed or smelling like it. At least not at first. I worry because I feel the smoke in my lungs. I remember my very first inhale. I nearly cried. As the smoke came in, I swore I almost felt some innocence leaving. It hurt. I coughed. Hacking up mucus and shaking the cobwebs out of my throat. I felt a pain in the lining of my lungs, they felt tainted. Every time I smoke up I remember this and I still cough a little. I don't smoke up that much. It's not worth it.

I drunk sometimes. My friends are nerds. I do it alone, in my house. Safe, quiet. Then I just loll about, content with myself. Mostly. Liver damage comes to mind. If I ruin my liver drinking, no way will I be getting a new one from a donor. The donated liver will go to some adorable little girl with a deficiency and I will die on the waiting list like the worthless lush society thinks I am. Hah. I don't want to die. I stop after two beers.

Everything I put in my body has stuff in it that shouldn't be there. Pesticides. Toxins. Dye. Awful things. Things that could build up and hurt me. I can't really avoid it but I worry anyway. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I just eat fruit. I don't want to die.

My jaw. I like my jaw. I like solid food. I don't want my jaw to wear out. I don't want my lip to droop and lightly dribble food down my front, simultaneously dribbling acid on the fibers of my dignity. This won't happen now. I'm young. I should be enjoying myself. I don't want to be old with no careless youth to reflect upon but more then that, I don't want to be old ever. Ever ever.

So now I have gum in my mouth. I remember the day I bought this gum. I walked to an abandoned building with a boy, smearing the sunscreen I had in my bag on my exposed skin as I walked beside him. We took off our clothes and forgot about the rest of the world for a while. While his fingers were inside of me, I couldn't help but think. Will I be the same as I was before this? Physically, I was worried about. Mentally, I couldn't give less of a fuck. We fooled around for a while and then he asked me if it was okay for him to stick it in. I said oh. You're ready to be a father? He knew that meant no. I suggested we buy some condoms. He said he would feel guilty because I would have to pay for them, his wallet was at home but okay. I fastened my bra, hiked up my shorts, and walked to Rite-Aid with him, putting more sunscreen on my shoulders, the back of my arms, and my nose as I went.

He didn't want to go in with me. It's embarrassing. he said. Don't be silly. I said. Come in with me. He sighed but he never likes coming across as a pussy. Stumbling around a Rite-Aid looking for the condoms with a boy who is draped in shame is a silly experience. I felt unclean but not in a way that I felt like I couldn't fix. Go home and take a bath and I'd be daisy fresh again. Silly is the only word I can find to describe it. I wasn't mad that it wasn't perfect, I was just mellowed out among the absurdity.

I got ribbed condoms and walked to the cashier. I'll wait outside, he said and I didn't argue with him one bit. Are you thirsty? I asked. Do you like Mountain Dew? No. he said. Don't buy me anything. Alright, whatever. I said and I grabbed one for myself.

I went to pay.

Gum. Sixty nine cents. What the hell, I thought as I looked at the condoms. I'm already taking a pretty big risk right now. I put the gum, the box of condoms, and the Mountain Dew on the counter and fumble around in my purse for my twenty.

I fumble, fumble, fumble; only come across a five. "Oh. I'm so sorry." I say to the cashier. "I don't have as much money as I thought I did." She nods politely. She doesn't seem to mind. I shrug and go back to the condoms, slowly, dragging my feet a bit. Do I really want to do this? What are the risks? What if I get pregnant? What if I get cysts? I don't like him. I like messing around with him, sure, and he's a very nice boy but he doesn't hold my attention all that much. I don't have much in common with him. I imagine referring to him as my boyfriend. Introducing him to my friends. Talking to him about my problems. It feels off. I get to the condoms and look at the prices. The cheapest ones are five ninety nine. I pick up the box. No. I put it back and go up to the cashier. I put a Mountain Dew, some gum, and two candy bars on the counter. I think I have enough this time, I say. "Would you like to sign up for a rewards card?" Her voice is louder and realer than anything I have felt in a long time. "Yes."

I guess I was taking a bit too long because as I was filling it out the boy walks in. "I didn't have enough to get them." I say. My words feel realer than before. I feel realer than before. "But she talked me into signing up for this......thing. I got free candy. I can't say no." He doesn't seem too upset. He feels the same way about me as I do about him, boner aside. I finish signing it and swig some toxin and dye filled dew and pop some sticks of gum in my mouth. I offer him everything. He declines all but gum.

I found the pack today. I don't care much. I won't chew gum all the time but I plan to finish this pack. When I am old and can't chew, maybe I'll look back on this. Maybe I won't give a shit anymore. Maybe I'll die before then. I don't know. I don't know anything at all to be honest.

Written with self-conciousness

2011-03-30T19:05:00.001-07:00

All day long, if I don't have anything that I have to do or any distractions that are really hard to ignore, I visualize.
I think about food and sex all day. Not together, I'm not that adventurous, but those are pretty much it. In the mornings, I think about sleep. Sometimes I worry about the shit that I just did/have yet to do or judge the people around me. What I mean is, I don't sit in class all day just mindfucking myself with the joys of learning, even when I get a few minutes to think or read. No grand epiphanies while pouring over Dostoevsky. No composure gained from becoming alligned with the beauty of the universe by meditation. No deep, tremendous reverberations of understanding garnered while alone with my own thoughts. I just think about the feelings. The tastes. The endorphins exploding inside of me. The satisfaction being fulfilled. My bodily needs are my primary concern. All day long, I think about food, sleep, and sex.
I thought about my perfect day. I did for a while and I realized these were the three key elements in it. I would wake up, stay in bed until I could no longer deal with myself, take to the mirror and dab paint on my face as I pleased and then I would cook for a bit. I wouldn't make anything elaborate, I'm not that much of a glutton. Probably just pie. Fucking pie. God, there's no creation by man that gives me more pure enjoyment. Except for cupcakes......god, you know what, I'd just make fucking baked goods then eat them almost until I hated myself.
After I eat for too long, sleep for too long, or even just go too long without doing anything productive, I get this huge wave of self-loathing that doesn't really go away until I do something that seems useful. Its best if its something I don't enjoy that much. Only then do I feel self-worth. But this is a perfect day. Its no time for my silly little, fucked up masochism habit. After I shoved my stupid little chubby whore baked goods in my stupid little chubby whore face, I'd get an oppourtunity to have sex with somebody.
I can't really describe sex, I've never had it and I don't like to read erotica or watch porn. I know the dynamics of it I guess. I just lie there and moan, right? Hah. Hah. Hah.
But really, I don't know how to describe it, I just know that I want it. All the fucking time. I guess I know what sort of person I want it with. Skinny/muscular. Intellegent but not necessarily booky. Nice eyes, nice lips. Social but reserved. Kind of punk rawk/hipstery sort. Fairly attractive genitalia I'd willingly put my face up against. Wants to fuck me and tells me that they want to fuck me. That would be lovely. Just take all of the energy my body's been holding in and slam it against them over and over again. Its nothing but a biological need. If you go too long without it when you want it, you become physically worse off. To fuck is nothing beautiful. Its ugly if anything. Its a mishmash of genitalia rather then a beautiful intwinement of souls, isn't it? Sure there's emotions that come with it (damn hormones) but like......fuck them. No emotions on my perfect day.
After that, I think I'd just stop moving. I wouldn't exactly pass out, my mind and body would just agree to chill and not do anything anymore. Almost as much as I like being asleep, I like being dormant. That feeling you get when you're at peace, pretty much awake but just lying around. The physical warmth is delicious, its really beyond anything else for me. My perfect day would have that, maybe some cuddling, then sleep.
Sleeping itself is one of my fucking favorite things, not because I am necessarily lazy (although I guess I am if I can't find anything to do), but because when I'm sleeping, thats the only time I really forget about everything thats bothering me. I can't be worried or afraid or sad or hateful or right or wrong when I'm asleep. I'm just gone. The rest of the world isn't just put on hold when I'm asleep, it straight up doesn't fucking exist. Maybe there is some sort of spirit realm and you visit it to a very tiny extent when you're asleep. Thats always how I'd hope the afterlife would be. Just an idyllic sense of peace and total satisfaction in mind and body.

I wonder what my perfect day would be like if I didn't have any urges. Probably something about my death.

Written with self-awareness

2011-03-30T18:51:00.000-07:00

I am so fucking lucky I can't even stand it sometimes.
Fucking Japan. If there were no natural disasters, the world would physically cave in on itself or something but they're just....beyond unbelievable to me. Thinking selfishly (like I usually do), I guess I try to live every moment to the fullest. The worst thing that could ever happen to me would be an early death. I kind of hope there's some greater peace after this life but I have to doubt it. This is all there is. This moment, this now, this little second, this fucking shit particle on the infiniteness of eternity is dwindling, slipping away, and I am ruining myself if I take it for granted. For something so random, so completely and totally unpredictable to end my life forever without me not having ever really lived it....thats me doing myself the biggest injustice ever.
I could be dead. Not even from an earthquake or a hurricane. I could get hit by a car next time I go for a walk. I could get tuburculosis from the next person I kiss. I could provoke somebody to murder me next time I get into an argument. I could die doing the stupidest shit. How many people in Japan were on the toilet when the earthquake hit? or the tsunami? Chances are there are a bunch of people who not only were shitting but are now dead. And their last moments were spent defecating.
Life has no meaning, does it? What is there, really? There is no logical proof for a god, any sort of supernatural interference, any sort of higher power. We as beings feel pain and beauty but what can we really make of it? There is nothing other then you. You are your own god and your life's meaning is to garner as much enjoyment and pleasure as you can from it.

I'm glad I'm not dead.
I'm sending money to Japan.
I'm gonna get so fucking wasted that I cannot remember my own name.

Written with absolutely no self-awareness at all

2011-03-30T18:41:00.000-07:00

I'm really, really sad and I don't know why.
Actually, I guess I sort of do. Something reminded me of the passage of time. I think it was the weather. I saw the sky get a little bluer and the snow start to melt and I thought SHIT. WHERE WAS I LAST YEAR WHEN THIS STARTED TO HAPPEN?

I was here. I was the exact same place I am now. I keep thinking about it and the more I do, the more I realize how little has changed. The same things make me unhappy. I have the same problems. I've made pretty much no progress in....anything. No new relationships. No new passions. No new reasons to live. No new happiness at all. I'm the exact same fucking person I was a year ago and I was bored and fed up with it then and I'm still that way now.

I've tried. I've forced myself into things. I've taken risks. I've gotten sad over it. I've forgotten about it for a while then come back to it again and cried some fucking more. I don't know what I even want anymore. Its silly I guess. As much as I think of how nothing has changed, nothing really bad has happened. Its just been a lukewarm fucking year. Just a lukewarm, ugly little shitbucket of a fucking year for me.

Thinking back, I've always had the same goal; self improvement. Chip away at all the qualities that make me loath myself. Get better. Stop sucking so fucking much. I'm exactly the fucking same though. Just a year of me trying and trying to make something happen that never, ever did. I'll be 17 in a month. I think I'll be glad that its over.

Me and my boobs.

2011-03-08T20:17:00.000-08:00

boo boo (CrappyGuitar18) is available

boo boo: is it still 19 over 15?
boo boo: yeah
boo boo: i read everything on my bros iphone

TumorAttitude: what?
TumorAttitude: huh?

boo boo: the thread

TumorAttitude: thoughts?

boo boo: im about to make a big bloated comment and i want you to post it there

TumorAttitude: Okay.

TumorAttitude: boobs?

boo boo: hold on

boo boo: almost done

boo boo: Guys, I've taken a gander of this thread on my brothers iphone, I read everything. For one, I didn't even know banning me for a year was a group decision, I thought that was just Satchmo going on an ego trip. Yes I'm starting to miss the site, in spite of all the negative things I have to say about it, there are people who make it worthwhile and i miss talking to them, I miss some of the interesting debates that were going on. However it's not like I can't live without this site, I do have things going on in my life outside of the internet you know, I'm taking a GED test this month, I've been talking to my mom about what kind of college I want to go to. Yeah sure another 6 and a half months isnt gonna kill me, but it isn't gonna make that much of a difference, it isn't gonna change my perspective, and you all know it. I said the mods were a bunch of lazy fucks, yet they're pretty devoted to keeping me away for as long as possible, so maybe I didn't give them enough credit, however I still think they are mostly elitist, incompetent, biased dicks. That is an opinion that will never change, I'm not sugercoating that one bit. But, I'm willing to swallow my pride and try to adapt to the rules, especially knowing now that the reputations (possibly even the membership) of my supporters are at stake and one more fuck up could end the few friendships I have on this website, that doesn't mean I'm willing to kiss the asses of people I despise (GuitarBizarre can still eat a fat dick), but I can at least try to focus my attention where such people don't dwell. I don't see why you can't just ban me from the shoutbox or something which is almost always where I started controversy (save the whole banning everybody when i was a mod because of a stupid argument about feminism thing). Do I have an issue with self control? To an extent yes. But my life has gone through some unexpected changes lately, it's getting progressively less shittier and it seems like I might actually have a future after all. So if you guys feel THAT strongly about me doing the extra time, that's fine, I won't lose sleep over it. I just don't see the f*cking point, if you really think I'm just gonna get banned again and that I have nothing to contribute to the site you might as well permaban me instead of pretending like you're being fair to me.
boo boo: anyway, is big3 on an ego trip or what?

boo boo: seriously threatening to ban everybody who voted yes, that's fucking ridiculous
boo boo: do they really think im THAT much of a problem?
boo boo: he has to resort to calling everyone on my side a clown
boo boo: jeez
boo boo: that one guy had a point, it's not like a constantly trolled the forum
boo boo: in fact i never really trolled the forum
boo boo: i went off on people

TumorAttitude: I'd still talk to you if they banned me.
TumorAttitude: I changed my sig encouraging then to ban me.

TumorAttitude: GB is a dick.

boo boo: its not like that was everyone one of my posts, i dont see why a little post deleting is so difficult, thats basically how they dealt with CC for the longest time
boo boo: dont encourage them to ban you
boo boo: thats stupid
boo boo: and yes he is

TumorAttitude: why not

boo boo: if you can, copy any direct responses to my comment for me

TumorAttitude: okay.

boo boo: i need you to be my mediator lol

TumorAttitude: no responses yet

boo boo: bbl its lightning

boo boo (CrappyGuitar18) is available

boo boo: any yet?

TumorAttitude: jansoon bolded the last sentence and addded
TumorAttitude: Request granted boobs. Go live your life.

boo boo: wow
boo boo: ok
boo boo: now that there is nothing at stake for me anymore
boo boo: tell them this

boo boo: Janzoon is a power abusing twat who is so up his own asshole he thinks he can make this decision on his own without the consent of other forum members. This has been a very polarizing thread, I know I'm not the greatest guy. But I deserve more that such a brief smug response from a lazy mod who never contributes anything other than brief comments of stuckuphisownassishness.
boo boo: fuck you Janzoon

TumorAttitude: alrighty.
TumorAttitude: You're not helping your cause by insulting anybody who disagrees with you.
TumorAttitude: Should I post it anyway?

boo boo: is that what he said?

TumorAttitude: yes.
TumorAttitude: No thats what I say.

boo boo: yes
boo boo: also tell him he's an idiot and always has been

boo boo: and tell them that's the worst rationalization for banning me permanently i've ever fucking seen

TumorAttitude: shall I bleep out the curses with teh swear filter?

boo boo: sure

TumorAttitude: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCEWd7usi_M

boo boo: im bored as shit, the possibility of college life is still quite a fucking while away, i just said i miss the forum, not even allowing the community debate weither i have merits as a poster and deserve another chance is totally unfair

boo boo: community to debate*

TumorAttitude: amandria says: . Actually, I have nothing to say about this.

TumorAttitude: should I say that?

boo boo: you cant let that one douche resolve this shit on his own

TumorAttitude: stone birds says
TumorAttitude: truthfully i don't think boo boo was ever all that bad sure he was psychotic but please we all are, i think i few people who hate him just created a "hysteria" of some sort (there's probably a slightly better word to use but i can't think of it right now) on this situation.

boo boo: stone birds can fuck off
boo boo: you dont have to post that but you can if you want

TumorAttitude: I'm not even reading this shit as I post it.

boo boo: actually
boo boo: dont
boo boo: lol

TumorAttitude: read it?

boo boo: at least plea to keep the thread open
boo boo: they're trying to sweep this under the rug and hide what's happening so they can do this shady shit without alarm

TumorAttitude: uhhhhhh

boo boo: without causing alarm*

boo boo: fuck this
boo boo: i'm joining stormfront
boo boo: and i'm posting pictures of janszoon's wife

TumorAttitude: what?
TumorAttitude: WHAT?
TumorAttitude: You're kind of a fucking twat.

boo boo: i know
boo boo: actually i cant do that anyway

TumorAttitude: Work with them insted of against them.

boo boo: lol
boo boo: oh come the fuck on
boo boo: i cant work with them

TumorAttitude: Manipulation isn't just for people with T&A.

boo boo: seriously

TumorAttitude: MANIPULATE THEM YOU DUMBASS.

boo boo: tell them what im about to say

boo boo: i take the fucking time to make a well thought out argument for why i want to return to the website and to correct some of the misguided comments made about me
boo boo: and his response is to perma ban me
boo boo: FUCK HIM
boo boo: post all of that

TumorAttitude: jansoon says I think it's pretty interesting that boobs thinks my comment was smug. It was actually sincere, I do hope he goes and lives his life. He sounds like he has some good stuff going on and I hope he continues along that route, whatever epithets he chooses to hurl my way. He used to do the same thing to me while I was busy sticking up for him in the mod cave so, unfortunately, it's pretty much expected.

Also, Tumor, please keep in mind that he is banned from posting on this site so please stop enabling him by acting as his proxy here. Thanks

boo boo: that's it
boo boo: i'm deleting the cookies from my browser so i can view the website

TumorAttitude: Uhhh, if you want to keep yelling I could copypaste your responses and copypaste the AIM conversation into my blog that no one reads then link it in the thread.

boo boo: ah fucking forget it

TumorAttitude: nah, I'll do that.
TumorAttitude: You have 4-5 minutes to rip into everybody and then I'm going to bed.

boo boo: dont its pointless no one will read it

TumorAttitude: I have a spanish test tomorrow.

boo boo: fuck it

TumorAttitude: They all will, people think its hilarious.

boo boo: actually posting the picture on 4chan would be worse
boo boo: especially if i can find his AIM or email address

TumorAttitude: Gee, you're nice.
TumorAttitude: He hasn't said anything mean to you.
TumorAttitude: Fuck you boobs.
TumorAttitude: Rip into everybody.

boo boo: i just hate him

TumorAttitude: Do something entertaining.
TumorAttitude: Tell me I'm pretty.

boo boo: im too pissed at him to care about anyone else right now

TumorAttitude: TELL ME I'M FUCKING PRETTY.

boo boo: you're fucking ugly

TumorAttitude: LOOK AT ME.
TumorAttitude: How am I fucking ugly?
TumorAttitude: You're fucking ugly. I'm your biff.

boo boo: i hate everyone right now
boo boo: just
boo boo: fuck

TumorAttitude: I didn't do anything to you
TumorAttitude: Awwwww, baby

TumorAttitude: you remind me of myself
TumorAttitude: when I was 10.
TumorAttitude: fuck you bewbz.

boo boo: eh
boo boo: i didnt mean it jesus

TumorAttitude: salright.

boo boo: im not mad at you, but i have to take it out on somebody

TumorAttitude: Take it out on some pretentious bald women. I'm fucking awesome. Fuck you.

boo boo: cuz yes im made, i didnt espect such a stupid fucking response to my comment
boo boo: mad*
boo boo: especially from someone who is supposed to be a mod
boo boo: well yes
boo boo: i know im a hypocrite
boo boo: im also not a mod anymore
boo boo: i even admit i was never cut out for it

boo boo: but that's the kind of modding you see on anime forums
boo boo: i mean jesus fucking christ

TumorAttitude: Oh. Gee.

boo boo: can you find out if he has an AIM address?
boo boo: jans
boo boo: i wont tell him it was you who gave it to me
boo boo: i know that would get you in trouble

TumorAttitude: Are you fucking kidding me?
TumorAttitude: No!

boo boo: ok then

TumorAttitude: Why do you have a picture of this man's wife?
TumorAttitude: What the fuck is wrong with you?

boo boo: i dont

TumorAttitude: GOOD

boo boo: he posted it on the forum
boo boo: which i cant even see
boo boo: im a little spiteful yeah?

TumorAttitude: uhhhhhh
TumorAttitude: are you done?

boo boo: i tried starting an account on 4chan a long time ago and i couldnt figure it out

TumorAttitude: ..................

boo boo: so i wasnt being serious, just fantasizing about it really

TumorAttitude: you don't start accounts on 4chan

boo boo: well i tried posting and it didnt work

TumorAttitude: You don't start accounts on 4chan. Its anonymous.
TumorAttitude: Gee.

boo boo: sorry if you're mad at me now

TumorAttitude: I'm not.
TumorAttitude: I'm publishing this.

boo boo: i made that comment expecting a decent debate from the mods
boo boo: and what i got

TumorAttitude: You're ridiculousness is catching on.
TumorAttitude: poor Anteater got caught up in all of this....

boo boo: was a power abusing hack of a mod swallowing his own jizz
boo boo: fine

TumorAttitude: are you done yet?

boo boo: tell him im sorry
boo boo: you gonna block me now?

TumorAttitude: No, never
TumorAttitude: Tell me I'm pretty.

boo boo: you're pretty

TumorAttitude: why would I block you?

boo boo: because i'm going to do this
boo boo: im never talking to you again

TumorAttitude: what?
TumorAttitude: Why not?

boo boo (CrappyGuitar18) is available

boo boo: ahhh
boo boo: im just kidding
boo boo: im such a dick

hahahahahhahahahahahahhhahahaha

2011-02-01T12:58:00.000-08:00

I love you Tessa!

,

2011-01-04T22:28:00.000-08:00

I had a dream about you. You were in a group of people and they started talking about God. I was eavesdropping.
"I don't believe in God." you said. "I worship Annie."
They started questioning you. "Why?"
Not like they thought it was stupid, they just seemed scared of the idea and confused by it.
"Well, she doesn't believe in God either." you began. "I just think Annie is really cool, brave, funny, graceful...."
I think you were about to say something about my appearence when my subconcious cut you off. My subconcious speaks loudly and in a slightly more adult sounding version of my voice. "THIS IS WHAT I WANT. THIS IS WHAT I WANT FROM A GUY. ITS WHAT I WANT FROM EVERYBODY, ACTUALLY BUT ESPECIALLY HIM."
Then you wern't in the group of people anymore. You were next to me, hands on my waist. Your eyes fluttered open in a kinda childish way. It was fucking adorable. Probably would have seemed gay outside of the dream but I digress.
I giggle. "Hello goddess." you say. I giggle more. You said god before. You would have said god again if I wasn't right next to you, with my boobs and my long hair and my giggling.
I'm teasing you. "So I'm your religeon now."
You have this huge shit-grin on your face. "Yup, so I have to worship you. I guess I can interpret that how I wish."
Your hands have been on my waist throughtout this entire conversation, of course, and now your lips are touching me too. Its fantastic. I noticed you a long time ago and now, finally, you've noticed me. I love the way you write, I love your lips, I love your voice, I lovethewayyoublushalittlerightbeforeyouejaculate.....
I'm pretty, I'm funny, I'm interesting, I'm unboring without being a shallow twat. I love myself but god it helps now that you do too. You're kissing me. I like you a lot and you're pumping fluid into my ego. Its great.

We play tonsil hockey for a bit and then I wake up happy.

You're a beautiful girl.

2011-01-03T21:51:00.000-08:00

You really are. I'm glad you're my friend. You're articulate, well-read, effortlessly cool, and gorgeous......I fucking hate you you bitch. Why do you always do this to me?

Dominate me at every aspect of everything. I quit even trying. I let you have it. You can have the glory, the love and the adoration and I will just be happy to not be alone anymore. Yay, you answered one of my texts and told me how your day was going. I am overjoyed.

You arn't really my friend. You never have been. I'm not articulate or good at all the social shit that you seem to be. How many times do you want me to admit and apologize for it? I have shitty posture. My pores are kind of big. I talk in class too much. I'm not very good at math or science. I'm a flawed person and you're a bottomless pit of perfection.

I roll over and lie on my belly like a dog when I feel like you're getting angry at me. I stop telling jokes and laugh at yours. I let my friends like you better then me. You joke about something I told you in confidence three years ago. I smile. I would have laughed but I was grinding my jaw to keep from crying. I wonder if a real, meaningful friendship would be a more fulfilling addition to your life then using me to make you feel better about yourself. You're articulate, well-read, gorgeous, cool, and carefree.

I am going to vomit.

This was probably funnier IRL.

2010-12-07T18:56:00.000-08:00

9:44pm Perv Guy:
hey!@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

9:44pm Hacked Account:
oh my fucking god

9:44pm Perv Guy:
what ?? haha sorry

9:44pm Hacked Account:
Bears.

9:44pm Perv Guy:
bears bahaha

9:45pm Hacked Account:
Goddamn, they're coming to get me. They've been after me for awhile and I don't know how much longer I can run from them.
The bears.
The polar bears are the worst. Beady little soulless black eyes, shining in a sea of white.
I hate it.

9:45pm Perv Guy:
LMFAO!!!!!!

9:45pm Hacked Account:
Okay .....
FUCK THE EASTER BUNNY!!!!!!!!
HE SENT THE BEARS!

9:46pm Perv Guy:
haha your so funny !

9:46pm Hacked Account:
, I can't do this! Why did I have to go and piss off the Easter Bunny?

9:46pm Perv Guy:
LMFAO

9:47pm Hacked Account:
The Easter Bunny told Santa and now he's not gonna bring me shit. :(
But like.......
I can deal with that. I know you're gonna buy me a ton of presents so I don't need Santa. But the fucking bears.
They won't leave me alone.

9:47pm Perv Guy:
haha just stop im going to die from lol

9:47pm Hacked Account:
Dem Bears.
Fuck the damn bears.

9:48pm Perv Guy:
ahaha

9:48pm Hacked Account:
Fuck the Easter Bunny and his tiny ballsack.
Why did I have to go
and point out his fucking ballsack?
and piss the fucking Easter bunny off?

9:48pm Perv Guy:
lol

9:48pm Hacked Account:
Is that all you have to fucking say? To this whole thing, thats all you have to fucking say to me?
These bears.
They're tearing me apart.....

9:49pm Perv Guy:
bahahhahaha what the fuck are you talking about hhahaha

9:49pm Hacked Account:
You won't understand.
You can never understand. You have a normal sized ballsack and a peaceful life, free from the terror of bears.....

9:50pm Perv Guy:
LMFAO WTF!!!!!!!!!!

9:51pm Hacked Account:
Don't laugh at my life! Go look at my fucking status, I'm not playing around with this shit!
Have you ever ran a mile in the snow in only your socks because the Easter Bunny sent 4 starving polar bears at you?
I lost 4 of my toes!

9:53pm Perv Guy:
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!

9:53pm Hacked Account:
What the fuck am I to do with 6 toes?

9:53pm Perv Guy:
uhh i dunno hahahahahahahah
lol
uhhhhhhh

You have signed off.

Love

2010-11-22T19:45:00.000-08:00

They told me to draw a body of water.

I remember I wanted it to be big, like the ocean, but when I thought of the ocean I thought of a very commercial place with hotels, logos, trash, lack of wildlife, and too many people. And the sun, which I hated. The ocean wasn't right at all. I tried to picture the quarry at Nelson's Ledges. I loved Nelson's Ledges and I swam the quarry to the other side and back a few times every time I visited the park. It was beautiful but it was too easy. It wasn't right either.

I thought about the water that I wanted to draw. I wanted it to be huge. I saw it in my head. Huge. I think its next to a nuclear power plant. Maybe Perry's Nuclear Power Plant, maybe one thats not really around here. Probably one I've never seen before. I pictured myself standing on one side of it and staring, seeing the unknown spread out before me under a cloudy sky. I can't see the other side of it. I'm terrified but I roll of my shirt and I start wading in it. The water gets deeper and deeper. I can't stand anymore without my face going under so I push off hard and start swimming.

I keep going. In my fantasy, it just keeps getting deeper and deeper and I just keep getting less and less sure of myself. I feel fish beneath me. I feel life and maybe something mythical. Something weird. Fish brushing up against my legs. Hands from some underwater succubus trying to grab me and pull me down. I don't even look. I'm afraid of what I'll see. I keep swimming.

I'm in the runoff. I'm in the liquid cancer and the radiation. I am breathing it in and bathing in it. I think I feel the tumors growing on my body. Oh, what can I do about the tumors? They'll fall off on their own when I get out of the water. I'm not even worried about them. I have to keep going.

This is a headplace that I go back to. I picture myself in this place a lot but I never stop swimming or get to the end. I never even see the land mass on the other side of the water.
I remember the boy next to me was very cute and flirty. I remember his name was Jimmy. He had light blue eyes and a nice voice. I liked looking at him and he talked to me about albums. I didn't really know what I was talking about when I said I liked XY or Z but he believed my lies and I was happy just to be talking to him. I pretended that I liked Led Zeppelin.

I wasn't very good at drawing and just ended up with an inky ocean of blue so I just started scribbling and let my daydreams take over. Jimmy drew a puddle and when they asked him how he would cross it, he said that he would casually stick the tip of his foot in to create a ripple. Then he would step in it, stay there for a few seconds and walk away. While we were drawing, he was flirting with one of the other girls. Tickling her. I could be doing that, I thought. I stop swimming. Stop drawing. Am I missing out?

Hm. Maybe. I don't really think I am. I feel like this daydream is kind of too powerful to stop. I keep swimming. What am I swimming for? What am I trying to do? I have no idea. Whatever the goal is though, its probably the most important thing in my life. I think I have bitemarks from the bitter creatures that have snapped at me. I think my lungs are bleeding from what I've inhaled. But I realize that I don't care. Whatever this is is bigger then my hurt. Its worth the pain. While I'm working for this, I am durable. I don't care about anything else.

I remember how my jaw clenched when they told us that the body of water represented our desire for love. Mine was deep. Mine was huge. Mine was bigger then I could fathom and so beautiful and so pure........

I remember how it clenched even tighter when they told us that the way we cross the body of water was how hard we were willing to work for love and how wet we get is how willing we are to get hurt. I cry. Its the truth.

I long for people. I try to find somebody to long for before I go to sleep. Somebody to think about. I alternate between 2 or 3 people. I want them and I feel close to them but they never really lasts. If I develop something with some wonderful person, I appreciate them but get sick of them quckly and want to be less close. They ARE wonderful but really better as friends. The little things about them. The way they type "Ok" instead of "Okay" bothers me. I ask them to name 3 countries under dictatoral rule and they can't. And I bother them. They don't want my intensity. They arn't ready for it. They think that I cuss too much. And thats okay. I'm a nice person, even if I use the unfemine word fuck. I'll make a nice friend.

I want something better someday. You won't be religeous at all. You'll love some of the same music that I do. Hopefully your libido will match up with mine. I'll drink every fiber of your being in and none of it will bother me. You are smooth. You have no sharp edges. You have nothing for my inner monologue to snag on and be bothered by. I like every part of you and I love being around you. This feeling lasts.

You are crazy about me. You are my control. I don't care if you fuck other people. Its biological and maybe one day I'll slip up and fuck somebody else too. You won't care. You listen to me talk about the universe and how knowing that I'm small makes me feel safe. You like my tattoos. Sometimes you suck on them. I hope you have tattoos but if you don't, I don't care. I don't care if you hate aesthetics as long as you love me back. I will be your tattoo. I will be the image that follows you around. I will be the thing you commit to. Something you never get sick of.

I change for the better around you. I organize things more. Smile even more. Appreciate my place in the world more. I am more creative, more ambitious. I wake you up with oral sex. I clean. I cook. Maybe I take a second job. Maybe I jog the extra mile. Just you existing makes me happy and you existing and loving me back makes me want to be a light. I want to create the perfect world for you and make everything as amazing as I possibly can.

I PROMISE THINGS ARN'T GOING TO BE LAME ANYMORE

2010-09-04T10:13:00.001-07:00

Dear world,

I feel like everything is really, really lame. I'm doing what I feel like I'm supposed to and I get sad sometimes for silly reasons because of the lack of a regular outlet but mostly I'm content/numb. I guess I'm doing whats expected of me and thats great, right? I can't really do exactly what I want at this point. I have goals to meet and rules to follow. I have shit to do and authority figures to listen to.

Am I a sell out? I don't know. Does not doing drugs, caring about your grades, getting rid of a shitty emo dye job, and joining a bunch of stupid extracurriculars make you a sell out? What was I before? I was a chronically depressed emo kid. That hasn't really changed. I have a lot more friends now but I still talk to the people I did before. I kind of love everyone. I used to make huge lists of people I hated but now the list is probably one hand and 3 or 4 fingers on the other hand.....Seriously, I'll list it out right now: ex boyfriend, awful fucking spanish teacher, muh brajah, muh dayd, fat asian druggie bitch, bitch with awful tattoo, manwhore who fucked me over, and Jared Leto....I love everybody else.

My problem isn't really tangiable. I'm just busy a lot and it fucks with my head. If I got enough sleep every night and ate the right amount of meals a day and worked really hard to be organized so I wasn't stressed all the time, I'd probably be less fucked but eating and sleeping are for faggots and I'd need a truckload of adderall to even start...Yeah, I'm gonna try. I'm gonna get meds and study and suck up to teachers and put other people before myself and get into college and not kill myself. Thats always been my intention, I just want to enjoy it.

Sometimes I'm so happy I can't even contain myself but then I forget something and fuck up or let the anxiety get to me and think of 10,000 things that could blow up in my face. I need to get over that. I will, I promise.

World, I'm going to be fantastic. I already am, but its going to be consistent as fcuk. Promise. Its always been my intention to turn out that way. Being fantastic is difficult and is driving me to pills but back when I really, truely felt like I sucked, I was always miserable. I'm going to be happy but more importantly, I'm going to be absolutely amazing.

I PROMISE that things arn't going to be lame anymore. I'm not going to be lazy. I'm not going to be normal. I'm going to work my ass off and spread the way I feel everywhere. This is it. This is where it changes. This is the turning point for the way things are going to be. Now. Here. And I'm ready.

WHILE I'M AT IT, HERE. HAVE A LIST.

Do not want:

Spanish test

Too much practice

Neutral colors

Boring musc

Caring what people think

Anxiety

Yelling at people over facebook

Feeling tired

Feeling depressed

Feeling unloved

Feeling trapped

Failure

Mediocrity

Boredom

Want:

YOU. <3

Oh my god, you know who you are.

So, he said no.

2010-01-15T22:14:00.000-08:00

I should be sadder then I am, but I'm not. Anyone who can't fully appreciate this masterpiece of a lovenote is unworthy.

I mean, just looooooook at that. I still write in cursive. How fucking endearing am I? And look at the top, where I tapped my pen 5000 times onto the paper in a Michael-Cera like wave of akwardorableness? I'm a catch.

SHIT IS STILL HAPPENING IN IRAN!

2009-12-30T20:50:00.000-08:00

THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA ISN'T REPORTING ON THIS SO WE NEED TO GET IT OUT BY WORD OF MOUTH! YOU GUYS NEED TO TWEET THESE VIDEOS WITH THE HASHTAG #ANGRYIRAN! PUT IT ON YOUR BLOGS, PUT IT ON YOUR FACEBOOKS AND MYSPACES, SET IT AS YOUR AIM OR MSN STATUS, SEND THEM TO BLOGGERS, VLOGGERS AND LOCAL NEWS OUTLETS! LET PEOPLE KNOW!
I am part of the first generation that won't know what life is like without the internet. Knoweledge is obtained and spread like lightning. Are we going to use this for good? WE'D FUCKING BETTER!

6 Things I Learned at the Mall the Day after Christmas

2009-12-27T08:08:00.000-08:00

1. Everyone goes to the mall the day after Christmas.
Including me and my sister. Her to shop, me to tape flyers in changing rooms and bathrooms.
Why is that? You already got stuff, do you really need even more stuff? Or is it a social thing? Anyway, fucking everyone was there. And they were all carrying shopping bags.

2. Scene kids especially love going to the mall the day after Christmas. Dear god, I like you, Scene Kids, but is the mall your secret meetingplace or something? There must have been a hundred of you. I have never seen so many DC logo shirts, or little skull patterned hairbows in my life. I went to the mall again today (because really, when theres a foot of fucking snow outside, what the hell are you going to do for fun?) and counted the scene kids. There were 21 of them. Are you guys taking the mall over? Planning some sort of vigilante scheme using hairspray and eyeglitter as weapons? Count me in, fucking-a.

3. They still sell glass ponies in the exchange room at Dillard's. These goddamn ponies have been in Dillards as long as I can remember. I am pretty sure these are the same ponies that have always been there since I was eight. If I wasn't wary of the labor conditions, I would totally plunk down $20 for one.

I totally ogled this one.

Then I totally fondled this one.

4. Guidos will butt into your conversations, get offended when you call them guidos, and are still pretty cool, all in all.
Me: *points to painting of fetus on wall* Dude, its got its hands up at its face the way cats do.
My sister: I-
Guido 1: What looks like a cat?
Me: I dunno. Are you gonna impregnate a cat and make an abomination half-cat-half-person and feed it banana flavored soymilk?
Guido 2: You're crazy.
Guido 3 (to my sister): This one's cute.
My sister: Thanks...
Me: Shes the cute one. I'm the one less likely to get raped. *blushes when realizing how NOT politically correct that is*
Guido 2: Raped? WTF?
Me: Well, if the rapist had a choice....?
Guido 1: You're cute too. I like your boots.
Me: Thank you Guido.
Guido 1: Dude, everyone calls me that! A thousand times a day! All the fucking time! Why did you call me a guido?
Me: I dunno. You guys are buff, you're tan, and you're wearing Ed Hardy.
Guido 2: Is he a guido? *points to guido three*
Me: Wow. You guys are awesome.

And it sort of ended there.

5. The people who work in Hot Topic are really articulate and cool. Finally get to Hot Topic, tape and flyers in bag, totally prepared to fuck some shit up. My mom is a lawyer and she says its legal as far as she knows. And so I'm going to do it. I'm going to try to enlighten the populace. I walk into Hot Topic, bombarded by Alice in Wonderland merch and more scene kids then I can count. And a dude with a pin covered lanyard and spikey hair approaches me and tells me that I need to sign up for the new rewards program or something. And I tell him no, I never shop here, but he totally thrusts a clipboard at me. "Um, pshyeah, so lyke, I don't really shop here, cuz child labor is like, TOTALLY unpunk."
He matches my fake valleygirl accent. "Thats like, totes ironic. Why are we talking like valleygirls?"
"I dunno." I say. "Ohmigawd, you look totes cute today. Bradley is totally going to ask you out, then you're gonna get married and have like, ten thousand babies. Cuz you're so fucking cute."
"Ohmagawd, totally."
He rolls his eyes.
"You know, you remind me of Daria." he said.
I am totally flattered. I finish writing out my fake email adress and rush back to the changing rooms to do the deed.
6. I suck ass at doing things even remotely wrong. I pick out three shirts to pretend to try on. I ask the other dude in the store for the changing room key. I walk in, look in the mirror and bite off six pieces of tape, then bite those in half, then tape the flyers (that say hipsterrunoff.com and adbusters.org on them over and over again in repetitive neon and helevetica), slanted, on the mirror. The girl who will come in after me will probably be hoping that the pink zebra miniskirt makes her butt look perky, only to be forced to examine herself, her culture, and her impact on the world. But probably not. I will probably just piss off the guy that compared me to Daria. I blush. I freak out a little. I debate whether or not to take pictures. On one hand, proof I actually did this stupid shit. On the other hand, evidence. Eventually, I take pictures.

I cheer up. I look okay. I feel okay. I am vain, kind of stupid, and probably not doing anything of merit, but I should feel good about myself. I am more of a punk then the kids buying Tripp Pants mere feet away.
I kind of hate myself for putting hipsterrunoff in the same category as Adbusters. When I was making these this morning, I wanted to include HR as a Christmas present to Carles. Now I realize thats retarded. Oh wow, am trying to enlighten these people? I am an arrogant cu-
"Dude? Are you almost done?" my sister calls. I put my jacket on and rush out, feeling like a dumbass. I grab her hand and run out of the store with all the grace and charm of a functionally retarded goat. My face is read and I'm breathing heavily.
"What is wrong with you?" she says, poised and elegant. "It looks like you stole something."
I stop freaking out. I don't feel so smart, but life is okay.

Oh My Goth: Stereotype Parfait, courtesy of MTV books

2009-12-21T10:23:00.000-08:00

Occasionally, on this blog that at least 5 people read, I will review some of the travesties of literature that I have come across. This is one of them. It wasn't discovered originally by me, but my friend Kyle (WHATS UP, MYSPACE FAMOUS!) at a rendezvous at our local library. It looked fucking horrible, we had to check it out.
Can't judge a book by its cover or something, right? Whatever, lets read the summary on the back.

Jade Leigh is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else.
Right off the start, LAME. "Be yourself" isn't the same as "be different from everybody else".
She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm.
Awesome, so you and your buddies are all exactly the same and as lame as every other goth in the country (and I guess Canada too...) but you think you're fucking GENIUSES because you prefer Hot Topic to Hollister and vampirefreaks.com to myspace.
They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Jade's smart mouth lands her in trouble -- again -- her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.
Oh my! Maybe she'll make you wear pink! Maybe she'll send you to detention and make you read the latest copy of Teen Vogue! Horror of horrors, Fake Exotic Sounding Stripper Name! Hijinks surely ensue!

Taken to a remote location where she is strapped down and sedated, Jade wakes up in an alternate universe-
Oh wait, this plot just got semi-good. Is it a sort of Matrix-esque "The cake is a lie" sort of thing where Stripper Name learns that her mindset is completly wrong and the goths, the preppies, and the old people need to band together and fight the robot overlords that control the corporations she inadvertently supported by "dressing goth"?
-where she rules the school.
Nope, just teen stereotypes. Oh noes, I guess her principal is Stephanie Meyer. She wrote the most scenetasticly tweenybopperish novel ever, knowingly sprinkling in PURE MORMON PROPAGANDA so that the zionists fund her publishing, her booktour, and her merch ventures. Of course, it becomes a cultural hit (all the the dismay of Miss Jade Leigh) and now goth is lyke, totally mainstreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeam-UH. The popular girls (who really probably wouldn't be so bad if Stripper name got to know them) stop tanning and begin pining over the strong, silent (ABUSIVE) type. Sale of body glitter and vampire fangs go through the roof.
But her best friends won't talk to her, and the people she used to hate are all Goth. Only Clarik, the mysterious new boy in town, operates outside all the cliques. And only Mercedes, the Barbie clone Jade loathes, believes that Jade's stuck in a virtual reality game -- because she's stuck there, too, now living the life of a "freak." Together, they realize they might never get back to reality...and that even if they do, things might never be the same.
Aw. Pooie. Nothing original here.
Jade identifies as a "punk goth". I photobucketed "punk goth" and this came up on the first page:

This is pretty much how she was described in the book: Wears mostly black, hot but has "Bella from Twilight" syndrome and thinks she's an uggo fuck, blue and black hair (BITCH, I WANNA SWITCH HIGH SCHOOLS WITH YOU! I'M NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE FUCKING BLUE HAIR!), that doe-eyed look of noncomplex thought patterns, and ultimately, ONE DIMENSIONAL, like this generic anime drawing would be if I printed it out and forced my puppy to poop on it.
Jade identifies as a "punk goth" which is pretty much an oxymoron. When I think of punks, I think of people with mowhawks in plaid, leather and fishnets, yelling at policemen, screaming about "anarchy", and listening to the Ramones, even though they're republicans.
When I think of goths, I think of sad people of all genders and sexual orientations, wearing the same drab, uninspired black clothing, swaying in pure and utter meloncholy to some generic Cure song, crying and painting their toenails black....

I'm not even going to BS you guys, back on the subject of the Ramones, I just really fucking want to post this:

Hahahaahha! Oh yeah, um, punk and goth, punk and goth. *strokes imaginary beard* I guess when you put them together, you get Jade, the ultimate poseur. Jade doesn't really know who she is and clings to the goth subculture. Its not uncommon but the fucked up author woman attributed this to Jade's dead mom. Jade's mom died in a car accident and shouted at Jade that she had to be herself no matter what right before she died. Or at least thats what the book says. Jade, like most desperate entry-level alt girls, is probably a victim of Münchausen syndrome. Her mom is clearly dead, so she can't lie about that, but I don't think it happened quite like that. I think her mom died of something totally boring and out of the ordinary and Jade just enjoys exploiting her mother's death and blaming all of her problems on it.
The entire book is sort of a blur of her bitching, and there is no way I'm reading it again, so I'll be skipping quite a bit. But theres a generic cheerleader character, and shes rich, blonde, mean, and perfect. But the one quirkalicious thing about her is that her name is Mercedes.

Fucked Up Author Lady Gena Showalter is either a super-clever humorist or the biggest dibshit around. You gave both your main character and your superevildemonincarnagegirlyhorribleprep a stripper name.
Mercedes like, talked shit about Jade's mom because Mrs. Gavebirthtomercedes and Mr. Spermenatedjade'smom are bumping uglies. "Jade's mom deserves to die." she said to her friend. Jade overhead and attacked her. Rivalry persists.
Then they're in the computer game and they could just sit around and deal with it or they could do the stupid thing and fight back. Mercedes was caught fucking this foozeball player in the library. Jade was all, "Bish PLZ!" to her math teacher. Principal makes their rents sign a waiver and traps them in Goth Purgatory.
Gena totally fails on goth subcultures. All it took was a quick browse of google images and urbandictionary to see that she fucked this up. Punk goths do not pocess an understanding of punk ethics and shop at the mall, preps shun Abercrombie and wear sundresses fucking everywhere, and cybergoths dress like rejected matrix characters rather then like the monstrosities they really are:

I lie, I envy her ridiculosity.
They both hate Goth Purgatory, and band together to get out. Jade gets the mystereiousnewguy to help her and eventually he cracks the code. They get out and everything is wonderful again. Bottom line, buy this book. It will be the most wonderfully terrible thing you ever read. There is not enough blog to describe how fan-fucking-tastic this is. Its like a manual on how to be a poseur.

Autism

2009-12-19T17:02:00.000-08:00

Its nine thirty on a Saturday morning and I hate everyone. Its the first day of my winter vacation from school. I should be sleeping or hanging out with friends. I should be exiting some sort of rave, possiply high, maybe covered in the Extasy vomit of an overzealous first timer. I should be climbing the side of an abandoned warehouse, ass naked except for pink bunny ears, rescuing America's favorite stonedbehindtheeyes bassist from a mad scientist. Fuck, I should be watching VH1 Divas with my dog. Anything. I know what I shouldn't be doing. I shouldn't be cleaning day old shit from the bathtub.
You probably think that I am a teenage mom. No, this is my brother's shit. His name is James and he has moderate to severe autism. You have no idea what that means, right? Um, so like....Have you ever babysat a two year old? James will act like he is two for pretty much the rest of his life. (He's ten.) He shows no signs of mellowing out. Screaming, jumping up and down, watching Seasame Street, smearing shit and food everywhere, doesn't eat anything but Burger King, ect.? Pretty much him, except he also takes the shoe laces out of my shoes to dunk in toilet water, he chews vigorously on whatever shirt he's wearing, and he chronically masterbates. (My mom named his dick Tim as in "Stop touching Tim, James!")
And these past few days, he's been freaking out, eating everything he comes into contact with, and smearing shit everywhere. Last night, he ran himself a bath and brought my copy of Dial L for Loser into the tub to jerk off to. Then he defecated (i.e. SHAT).
There is a ginormous shitstain I can't seem to get out. I've tried vinegar, Oxyclean Scrub-Free (psh, LIARS), toothpaste with bleach, a little bit of my favorite volumizing color shampoo, and half a bottle of Clean and Clear clenser (It broke me out). I need more traction. I get some steel wool. Its got some dried on pink shit. I have no idea what it is, it could be mashed up alien egg pods for all I fucking know. What I do know is the steel wool got the dried up shit off and that all these products are probably giving me lung cancer. I look in the mirror. My skin looks like crap and my blonde roots are coming in. I cry a little. I wash my hands six times. They feel scabby and dry but they do not feel clean. I cry a little bit more. I check on my stupid family. I go on the internet and skim through about a third of the KKK's Vision for the Future just for shits. It reminds me of the screenplay I've been meaning to write. I am anchored to the house all day and eventually write this.

Feminist analysis of Taylor Swift's "15"

2009-11-29T08:22:00.000-08:00

You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors
It's the morning of your very first day
And you say hi to your friends you ain't seen in a while
Try and stay out of everybody's way

Okay, cool. I don't really care for the first day either. Hella weird, all the assemblies and shit....

It's your freshman year and you're gonna be here
For the next four years in this town
Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say
"You know, I haven't seen you around before"

Aw, thats cute. I'm stuck in a small town too. Its kinda bull, man. I sympathize.

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen feeling like there's nothing to figure out
Well, count to ten, take it in
This is life before you know who you're gonna be
Fifteen

You only start a sentence with "'Cause" if someone asked you a question, Taylor. I am 15 and I know this. But you're probably right, most teenagers do not pocess a healthy amount of skepticism. You should question things and think them over. Authority doesn't always have your best interests at heart, kids.

You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail
And soon enough you're best friends
Laughing at the other girls who think they're so cool
We'll be outta here as soon as we can

Wow, thats kind of judgemental. Maybe those girls are insecure and have home problems, so they channel it through social hierchies. But its a small town and there probably isn't much to do but secretly mock the cheerleaders with your ginger wingman. Again, this place sucks. I'm dying to leave as well, Taytay.

And then you're on your very first date and he's got a car
And you're feeling like flying
And you're momma's waiting up and you're thinking he's the one
And you're dancing 'round your room when the night ends
When the night ends

Taylor, you're behind. This was when I was 13. Now I try to have legit relationships with people I actually have stuff in common with, although I don't really expect them to-OHMAGAW, HE HAS A CAR? MARRY HIM, OHMAGAW!

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
When you're fifteen and your first kiss
Makes your head spin 'round
But in your life you'll do things greater than
Dating the boy on the football team
But I didn't know it at fifteen

Um.....I do. I know it at fifteen.

When all you wanted was to be wanted
Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Like, wanted how? Abigail wants you and cares about you and stuff. Your mom wants you and waited up for you after your date. Like, attracted to, wanted? Like waaaaaaaant to fuck you? OH. Um.....I sort of just sprouted boobs so you're a bit ahead of me there.

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday
But I realized some bigger dreams of mine
And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy
Who changed his mind and we both cried

WAIT. WTF? I'm assuming you mean Abigail's virginity. So Abby fucked some dude and then he dumped her. Thats not what bothers me, thats a common occurance. But its ALL SHE HAD? Abigail's worth lies in her hymen? Abigail has nothing else to offer the world but a tight lay? And that boy, did he give Abigail EVERYTHING HE HAD? Is his virginity all he had to offer the world, or is he an individual, with hopes and dreams and aspirations beyond condoms from the local Rite Aid and ten minutes in a sweaty backseat? Probably, but I guess Abigail isn't. I guess Abigail is just an empty shell now. Wow, Taylor! I guess now all you can do is comfort her and cry with her and continue not putting out, because you still have SOMETHING.

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen, don't forget to look before you fall
I've found time can heal most anything
And you just might find who you're supposed to be
I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen

Oh, I get it now. Wow, Abigail sure knows how to pick them. I'm sure she regrets her decision, her tale is a cautionary one. But what about Lauren, who sits in front of you in sixth period English? I hear she hooked up with Craig over the weekend. Is she a failure too? What if she was just really horny? What if she doesn't expect emotional feedback from him, what if shes "pulling a Summer"? Does she still have anything, or is she an empty shell like your ginger bud? Are any woman who were too retarded to wait until they were married before breaking the protective seal on their pussies empty shells? Wow, what a wonderful message to send to young, impressionable teenage girls. I just feel so good about myself now! I'm still worth something! I'm still pure! Oh, happy fucking day! Wow, maybe if I practice SUPER HARD and I promise not to have sex with ANYBODY EVER, I can be awesome and famous JUST LIKE YOU, TAYLOR SWIFT!

Your very first day
Take a deep breath girl
Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors

And remember to breath! Thanks, Taylor, you're the best rolemodel ever!

I'm wasting my life on the internet.....

2009-11-28T08:43:00.001-08:00

I guess I could share with you what I found.

I drew this for someone....and I never gave it to them. I'm a dick.

Spin is publishing a lot of stuff that I like lately. The first 6 of 16 Rock Myths Debunked is absolutly poetic. And they let you read the entire issue for free online. If you're concerned that I'm sucking the corporate cock of a magazine that is ginormo, and super popular, here is probably my favorite Zine ever, Babysue. Parts of it are a little too racisty to be considered sarcastic, but where else can you find A Parents Guide to Satanic Ritual Cult Abuse?

(WHEEEEE OOOOOOOH WHEEEEEEE OOOOOH BORING ANECDOTE AHEAD:I guess I should enjoy tangiable magazines while I can. The internet really isn't the same. I like the smell, I like the texture of the pages, I like when my sister draws mustaches and beards on the random chick on the cover, I like chopping it up and making it into a collage afterwards...its a sad thing to see go.)

I'm in love, you guys. And her name is Doe Deere. I stayed up all night reading the back 30 or so pages of her blog and drooling at her awesomeness. She makes blue and orange lipstick for a living and dresses adorably and adores neons and unicorns and funky shit, as do I, and is just all around great!
Okay, heres several pics of my new internet crush:

See, the universe is all DUDE, TAKE THAT OFF, YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS. WTF ARE YOU WEARING, PUT ON SOMETHING NORMAL AND LESS RIDONKULOUS but Doe is all, NO! KEEP IT ON, YOU LOOK AMAZING, DON'T BE AFRAID TO BE YOURSELF!

Have you guys seen piano stairs? WTF, the piano stairs are electric, right? So whats the point of getting more people to use the stairs if they BOTH WASTE ELECTRICITY? Does everyone within a five mile radius weigh 600 pounds? Sometimes cynicism needs to outweigh sparkles and sunshine, it pains me to say.

These are all twitters that I like. Pissed that no one really witty is pretending to be Steve Albini (Big Black, produced Nirvana's Nevermind), Dameon Albarn (The Gorillaz, Blur) or Mike Patton (Faith No More, being a fucking badass). May as well link my dull little pity of a twitter, if you give a fuck. XD

I have a new God. Its the toothpaste for dinner Random Livejournal Image Generator.
Its kind of like a Magic 8 Ball only way more magical. See, I mentally ask it a question, then I reload the page (set on only one image, but you can put more if you're adventurous) and the image answers the question I asked it. Its all seeing, all knowing, and tons of fun.
'Ere, lemme show you.
God, what kind of day will I have today?

I think that means God wants me to work out and also be extra holy. Okay, what should I wear on all of today's adventures?

Yay, thats the color of happy! God, will I maybe run into somebody kinda sorta special today? I'm sure you know who I mean, God!

I.......don't know what that means. God, what is the meaning of life?

Thank you, God! I think I understand!

Twilight Short Story, XD

2009-11-20T14:01:00.000-08:00

I remember my last normal day. I was at the mall with my sister Becka, shopping for the perfect outfit for my date with Robby. I needed to look better then I normally did....after all, this was the night I planned to lose my virginity.
Oh my gosh, Robbie and I had been going out forever...I had never felt this strongly for any of the other wads I dated. Just him. I kinda sorta figured that we would part ways when he went off to college next year, but that didn't faze me. Robbie made me SO HAPPY now and all I wanted was to show him....
Becka was weirded out when I told her.
"So you realize that it prolly won't work out?"
"Yup." I nodded.
"And you're fucking him anyway?"
"Totally."
She seemed confused. Becka was saving herself for marriage, but she would mack with any guy that asked. She was going to the local Christian college, but came home on the weekends. We didn't always understand each other, but we had kind of a strong bond. And so I drug her to the mall with me.
We passed all the shitty teenybopper stores and went into Hollister. The music was obnoxiously loud and the air hung thick with musky spray. She seemed distracted by the picture of the model on the wall but I drug her back to the dress tops.
"WHY ARE WE IN HERE?" she said over the pumpy poprock song.
"BECAUSE ITS CUTE."
"WHY DON'T YOU WEAR THAT BLACK TOP YOU GOT IN LA AND YOUR ASS JEANS?"
"I LOST THAT TOP THREE MONTHES AGO."
She looked at the spot above my head.
"I KINDA JACKED IT TO WEAR TO MY SORORITY'S FORMAL BUT I BROUGHT IT SO YOU CAN HAVE IT BACK."
I was sorta pissed but she agreed to go and buy me a beer to make up for it. We went to some stupid bar far enough away that we wouldn't run into our teachers or anything, but close enough that Dad wouldn't get pissed at us for wasting gas. Becka knew what she was doing. She ordered something for me that was sugared down enough for me to take it. Since she was driving, she let me get really drunk on her dime (and her ID). I figured, why the fuck not? I'm a great student (except for pottery, ugh). I'm on three sports teams. I don't smoke or take drugs that wern't perscribed to me. I even got approval from Mom on my decision to lose my virginity. And my sister wouldn't let anything happen to me. So I just got drunk.
It was an idiotic decision. Becka got distracted by something shiny and wandered off. Before I knew it, I was alone at the bar. The lights were kind of bright. I didn't care for it. I felt sick-ish. I didn't have a tolerance for any alcohal, let alone the crapload I just consumed.
A tall, pale man walked into the bar and a sort of chill went over the room. He had this look on his face, like he had just been forcefed a dirty diaper...I instantly disliked this dude, but he plopped down on the barstool next to me and started talking to me. I wasn't really paying attention to anything he was saying so much as praying he would go away...I was so drunk that I didn't really notice when he put his hand on my knee, then my waist, then my neck...And I didn't really notice when the bartender slipped back for a minute and he was helping me limp somewhere....
I DID notice, however, when he had me underneath him, draped over a Volvo. He was kissing me......ugh, I hated it.
"I....stopit." I finally got out.
"I have a boyfrien....an'....your mouth tastes like roadkillllll...."
He didn't stop. He put his hand up my shirt and felt up my C cups.....His hand was so dang cold. He pulled down my pants and stared at my shivering legs.
I started crying. "Please stop. I'm-I'm only sixteen. Please don't do this to me."
He didn't listen. He pushed me up against his car and slid in and out of me. Oh my god, even his THING was freezing cold. His skin...it didn't feel like regular skin, maybe it was just the booze but I swear it felt like stone.
I was fucking terrified. I couldn't move. "You know if you tell anyone about this..." he said. "...I...I will fucking kill you. And even if you do, no one will ever believe you." He smiled this awful smile.
He kept going for a minute or so, then he got on his knees and licked the blood off my legs...from my hymen, I guess.
"You asshole." I wanted to scream. "That was for Robby. I was going to fuck Robby and it was going to be awesome. I fucking hate you." I wanted to kick him in the face. But I couldn't. All I could do was stay still and cry, I was so scared.
He stood up again and looked me in the eyes. "I have a wife and a daughter. And I have a shitload of money. I'll never get caught. But just to make sure...."
He placed his freezing hand on my neck and bit down. I started crying even more. He was SUCKING MY BLOOD. Oh my god, it hurt so badly. It was terrible. Suddenly, he stopped. "WHY ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?" he yelled. I just cried and cried. He bit down on my neck again and sucked, then a third time. I remember giving up and accepting that I was going to die. But I didn't....
I woke up the next morning in a ditch. I looked at my arms. They were super pale and covered in my blood. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I looked around. I recognized this area, it was a couple miles away from home. I figured I already felt like crap, so if I started running now, I would be home safe feeling awesome in fifteen minutes or so. I started slow like they taught me in track practice.
When I got to the sidewalk, people acted strange towards me. They scrambled to get in the other direction. They screamed. I tried not to notice. The tears welled up in my eyes. I was so scared and confused. I just wanted to go home and hug my mom and dad and have Becka make me cookies shaped like crosses and rosaries then watch some stupid sitcom and sleep for a day and a half. Then I was going to report the bastard that did this to me.
I stumbled in the doorway and saw Becka, cooking some bacon and eggs. I ran over to hug her and tell her what had happened. But she screamed and ran upstairs. I followed her.
"Stop, what are you doing?" I tried to say. "Oh my gosh, please just tell me things will be okay!"

She yelled and pointed at me. I turned around and saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I looked SO TERRIBLE! Half my jaw was off and my skin was ghostly white and covered in gore. I started crying and ran out of the house.

I had nowhere to go but the woods. I stayed there for three days bawling and freaking out.

I thought about Robby and all the fun we'd had together and all the stuff we'd helped each other through. I thought about the time that I called him crying cuz I couldn't finish my math assignment and he climbed through my window at three in the morning to help me. I wondered if Robby would scream and run away from me like Becka had. It was too painful, I didn't want to find out.

I thought about my parents and how they'd always been really supportive. My mom had always told me that she was proud of me as long as I tried my best (and I lost a lot sometimes). And my dad woke up at six in the morning every Saturday for the past three years to take me to practice. I loved my parents. I didn't want them to scream and run away from me.

Lastly, I thought about my friends and how we spent most of our free time together, just talking and chilling and sharing slushies and nailpolish colors and tons of love. I wondered if they saw me, would they scream the same way they had when we watched the Texas Chainsaw Massacre last Halloween?

I slowly lost all sensation in my body except for an unpleasent sort of heat. My skin turned from the pale-ish color to a sort of green shade, like it was rotting away. I watched three of my fingers and two of my toes rot off the first day. The second day, I watched my right arm rot off. The third day, I realized that if I was going to die soon, I had to get revenge on the man who did this to me but I figured I would stay alive until my brain and my stomach failed completly. I remembered what he had told me about himself, he was rich with a wife and a child. What good was that going to do me? I didn't even know if he was telling the truth. Then I remembered something; he had a Volvo with a Forks liscense plate on it. I knew where Forks was. It was just a short run through the woods. And I had a friend that went to school there that told me about a bunch of assholes that had more money then they knew what to do with and never talked to anyone. The Clarksons or something. I ran through the woods as fast as I could and came to the highway connecting Forks and my town. The cars zoomed past, and some honked at me, obiously freaked out or something. I probably caused a traffic jam but I don't care.

I ran into a diner to get directions. The waitress broke a plate over my head and some dude at the bar took out his gun and shot me in the face but I didn't feel it. Some lady screamed, "PLEASE DON'T HURT MY BABIES!" and I laughed, but all that came out was that gay noise again. I grabbed the waitress' pen and wrote on the wall with my left hand, "WHERE IS THE MANSION".

"Oh my gosh, it means the Cullen's place! Go down the street, then the woods, and go diagnol until you get to it....."

I threw the pen back at the waitress and ran out.

I got to a sort of squarish, layered expensive looking house. The volvo was parked in the driveway and a really pale girl with auburnish hair was buckling a baby into a carseat. I yelled a bit so my prescense would be known.

"EDWARD!" she yelled, and he walked out of the garage, looking surprisingly vulnerable. He punched me, leaving a dent in my face. Then he threw me at the garage wall. I was determined to kill this bastard, and I guess my adreneline was really high. Everything seemed to be in sort of slow mo...I looked around for a weapon and saw a long, silvery phallic looking thing. I grabbed it and pushed it through his heart. It made sort of a crunchy sound, like I had pushed it through a hardened statue. It went all the way through him. There was no blood at the wound sight. THERE. He was finally dead!

The woman and the baby were crying reallly hard now. I felt horrible, but then I remembered that this man was a murdered and a rapist. I started crying too and I knew they would be better off without him.

I guess someone had called the police because a bunch of them came and started shooting at me, all at once. I stayed concious, so they put me in a maximum security jail cell. I think my heart and my stomachare starting to fail, and I'm glad. I just want to feel the cold relief of death wash over me, destroying all this stupid mortal heat.....

Island fucking......

2009-11-02T17:39:00.000-08:00

Think of the most repulsive person you know. The stupidest, fugliest, snarkiest, shittiest, most unappealing human being you have ever met. And for some reason, you're on a plane with them. Its a perfectly normal plane ride, you go into the bathroom and masturbate when the turbulance kicks up, you banter with the flight attendant, you skim through this month's Nylon.....And then there are sparks. And theres fire. And you see the thin layer of skin on your signifigant other's face burn off. And you watch their jaw detatch. Its too horrible. Everything goes black.

You wake up in the sand. Its night now...you hear the waves of the ocean. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Where am I? Was that a dream? Am I dead? Is this heaven? Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit." You start to sob.

A warm hand reaches out to comfort you. Its the most reupulsive person you know. The worst human being in your tiny little world. But they're not anymore. They're alive. You're alive. And they understand what you just went through, because they're there. And they're crying too. You just lie there and hold eachother, crying without words. You smell them. A few hours ago, that repulsive smell (For me, its a combination cheetos, Axe/Victoria's Secret body spray, and genital sweat.) would have made you dry heave. But its comforting, it smells like life.

So, you guys are there together. Do you fuck?

Come on, in times of trauma, all common sense flies out the window. If you don't fuck them right there and then, you'd fuck them after a few days of not getting rescued. And its just you guys on this island. There arn't any savage cannibal darkies, like in racist fucking Blue Lagoon. Theres not really much to do. After a while, you probably give up on surviving and just fuck them.

Thinking about the most horrible person I know, I gotta admit that I'd tap that after two weeks of island dullness.

I had this weird daydream....The plane crashes. I smell burning flesh. Some of it is mine. My cheeks are hot from blood, smoke, tears, and sheer fear. I somehow get out of the plane okay, manage to pass out on the sand, and wake up with everyone dead except for this guy, who is conked out, still breathing, beside me:

(He's a caption from my Health textbook. Supposed to be overdosed. Low def...I think he's cute. Shows what I do in Health class, get stupidass daydreams when I'm supposed to be getting scared off of doing drugs....)
His name is Todd and he's a total dooshbag. He's in this stupid little band that variates between classic rock and hard punk. Neither of us know this, but he recently contracted HIV from a dirty heroin needle.
Needless to say, we do some shit, end up dying, and the buzzards get our bodies before our families get the chance to miss us.
It doesn't really make much sense but thats my fucking daydream.
And thats my fucking life.

Mmmm, dibbly fresh!

2009-09-27T18:30:00.000-07:00

This week, I read what might have been the worst book ever. I am not exaggerating. This book was terrible. Not even campy terrible, like SHA. Like the author thought he was writing Shakespere. He was like, halfway through it and he thought, "Wow, this book is the teen novel of the generation! Better not use so much slang so it'll age well. I bet they'll make an indie movie out of it! Wow, I wonder if they can get Natalie Portman...zzzzzzz.....z........z.zzzzzzzzzzz...."
Its called Flavor of the Week and with a title like that, I thought it was about a cute lil' alt-y girl who worked in an icecream shop and somehow made the flavor of the week tie into her problems every single week of her life. And I figured the cover would be really sweet and somewhat Dali-esque, sort of like this:

"The dark chocolate ripple was sweet and savory, blending beautifully with the perfectly white vanilla. Just like Davon and me!"
And it ends when she quits and decides to be a vegan.
Is that too much to expect from a teen novel? I guess so, because Flavor of the Week was epically terrible. Heres the cover, which isn't bad but sort of disappointed me cuz of its lack of cute lil' alt gals and icecream and interracial love:

The book is about a fat kid named Cyril Bartholemew. Cyril is freakishly good at cooking and thats pretty much all he does. He doesn't really have a personality. He's just a fat version of Gary Stu. Or maybe he ate Gary Stu. I dunno. Heres Cyril.

Anyway, as our story begins, Cyril is baking cookies and daydreaming about this hippie girl that he's in love with, Rose. Rose is a vegetarian and listens to the Grateful Dead stone cold sober and is ridiculously boring and Cyril won't STFU about how beautiful she is. He seriously keeps daydreaming about cooking for her. He planned out a meal and everything. Its one part sweet, two parts pathetic. Heres Rose.

Anyway, Cyril is baking cookies for Rose's friend Jamie's birthday party. Cyril doesn't like parties, but he's infatuated and full of estrogen and so he just does whatever he thinks will make Rose happy.
Jamie is actually pretty cool. She drives fast, sleeps around, wears funky leotards, and actually eats. She is the only character in this book that I would voluntarily hang with.

I want to party with Jamie. Anyway, convieniently, as it is with shitty books and shitty indie novels, something convienient to a generic plotline happened. Cyril's old bestie Nick moved back from New York. (Say Nick from New York three times fast!) And guess what! Nick is generically DREAMY! And guess what ELSE WHAT! He and Rose LIKE EACH OTHER!

Nick is somewhat morally....off. I think we're supposed to attribute this to the fact that his parent's are divorced and that his mom is a druggie? Great characterization!
But Nick is insensitive to Rose's bland emotions! And also, Rose likes dudes who cook for some stupid random reason! So Insensitive Hunky Nick gets Cyril to cook delicious, delicious things for his Darling Rose and let Insesitive Nick take credit for it! OH NOES! HOW COULD THIS POSSIPLY END?

If you've ever seen a Rom Com or watched the season finale of a teen sitcom or read a book of this nature or lived in western civilization long enough to cohesively construct abstract thought, you know how this book is going to end. But I sort of hoped it would be moar dif'rint. I sort of hoped that Cyril would lose some weight, get some new friends, get a therapist, develop a personality, and meet some other girl with a tie dyed chef hat and sad, lonely eyes. Hope was for naught. Heres what happened in between the beginning and the end of this book:
*Cyril talks about his girl problems to his only other friend (that the book mentions, maybe?) who is some random lady that owns a gourmet cooking store. She actually seems kind of cool, I wish there was more of her in this book.
*Nick gives Rose a cake that Cy baked and then expects her to fuck him, even though they've only known each other for three days. Of course she doesn't, of course they both bitch to Cy about the incident.
*Rose is chilling and thinking how great it would be to live in the 60s. Then she sees Jamie and thinks that she would be totally out of place cuz shes wearing a leotard or something. And I just want to jump in there and be all, Rose, you realize all they did in the 60s was drop acid and fuck, right? And all you do is sulk around thinking to yourself how hipster-riginal you are? Sure, Jamie would be out of place.
*Between being awesome and making me question my heterosexuality, Jamie figures out whats up (Like its hard?) and tells Rose. Cyril should've seeked out Jamie's help in the first place, but I have a feeling it would've gone something like this:

*Rose doesn't believe him until Nick bats his eyes at Cy, making him prepare Rose a dinner of aphrodisiacs. Nick's dog jumps on the table and eats a plate of food, Nick runs after it to make sure it doesn't die or something, and Cy came over to creeper stare at Rose. He sees her alone in her hippie-mazing-ness-ness-ness, and decides to bust a move.
*Rose like, flirts with him to get him to confess, but he just goes all Michael Cera and sits there blushing and trying to hide is woodie. Then Nick comes back and accidentally confesses. Rose flips out on both of them, needless to say.
*Jamie is totally a nicer, smarter version of Jennifer from Jennifer's Body because she keeps screwing these guys that never get mentioned again.

Don't cry, babez. I still wuv yew.
*Cyril has this cooking audition thingy and totally fails it because all he thinks about is ROSE ROSE ROSE.
*In the end, Cyril makes Rose some chicken soup without chicken in it that makes her fall in love with him. And his cooking store bud, Alice, gets him another audition which he wins. And Jamie and the Handsome One end up together. Cyril is still boring. I was bitching to my mom about how lame this book was, and she told me that it was ment to be beautiful because Rose ends up loving Cyril even though he's flawed. Cyril didn't really do anything but pine over her the entire book, so thats sort of stupid. He didn't talk to Rose or Nick about his feelings except for a random confession to Nick that he loved her. He just sort of went with it. Cyril's fate was not his own, and I doubt he'll be very happy for long. Seriously, Cy! Get some therapy! Get some real friends! Eat a salad!
Happy ending. Happy happy happy ending. And I saw the author's picture on the back cover. I assumed it was somewhat autobiographical, and he would be this nerdy guy who never got the hippie chick back in high school and decided to unleash his pent up agression and sperm into a novely thing. But no. He's kind of hunkalishious.

Kinda.