But I still brought a bunch of it with me when I moved here. Notebooks mostly. Anne Frank in the attic style. Same as all the ones I have now that they're always trying to wrestle away from me at wherever I happen to be working. I've chased grown men down feminine hygiene aisles and through drugstore warehouses begging them to give me back what I have just finished talking shit about them in. I'm just a little slower moving now that I've been sitting on my ass in an office for a couple years. The maze of cubicles can be trickier to navigate, but I always win.
So I never get my closet clean because I end up sitting cross-legged in it among my piles of crap, reading them.
January 8, 2002
-passed all 4 classes
-don't work tomorrow
-Neutrogena tanning lotion
-Samuel L. Jackson soundboard
-he ruined my life
-song stopped downloading halfway through
-stepped on Pete Yorn
-work 9-3 Saturday
-it's 3:35 A.M.
-laundry is outside
-it's cold outside
-lights are still on, don't have the clapper
As always, the bad outweighs the good. I've learned from stalking the life ruiner that he's now obsessed with Britney Spears. Perhaps I shall obtain a deep, dark tan from Neutrogena. I will be dark orange. Maybe I'll even get implants. Orange ones. And a diamond in my orange navel. Then I will go see him and sing "Stronger" at him, just like the video. I will hurl the chair I was writhing around on at his head before flouncing off, leaving him with his hard-on and fatal head injury.
Sadly, I never got around to that.