Wake Up, Dumbass

I’ve been experiencing a new kind of dream in recent months and it worries me.
I dream of all these social networks that are available online.
I dream about receiving messages on Facebook and myspace. In my dreams, I will check my email and will have messages waiting for me on any of these websites. I will dream about socializing through a computer.
If I go to sleep with a social dilemma, which happens far too often, what can I say, I’m a melodramatic gal, it will be addressed through my subconscious computer.
No longer do I dream about face to face communication, I now dream of online acceptance and denial.

Fairy Toothmother, Hear My Wish

Well, I figured out what’s wrong with my teeth.
Good news, they aren’t loose.
Bad news, they’re moving around.
They have been crooked ever since I got my braces off all those years ago.
The retainer, she did nothing.
And lately, they have moved even more.
Fuck you, teeth, you’re too stubborn and now you make me look ugly.
Not as ugly as I’d be with a missing front tooth, mind you, but ugly nonetheless.
I’m going to start saving up for a set of frontal metal teeth.
Implants, not grill.
Then I’ll be so badass.

On Drowning

I’ve made too many wrong decisions.
I have both given and received pain.
I have no god to lie my body down before and beg forgiveness.
I only have myself and my bad moves.
My body has switched over to self destruct and I am now falling apart from the inside out.
My teeth are loose.
My skin is dry.
My lungs are abused.
I have forgotten how to create, I merely destroy.
I no longer make beauty, I now shit upon it.
I sleep with bugs and I lay in filth.
I consume and I ruin.

Maybe

Sometimes secrets are nice.
Sometimes they hide themselves so deep inside that they are secret, even to me.
I will keep it a secret for a little while longer, just in case I change my mind.
In case I was wrong and was merely projecting my own fancies.
I will say that there have been a whole lot of return visits inside my head and I can no longer keep that secret from myself.
The secret egg may soon hatch. Will it be a baby bird or just another breakfast?

My Samsara is You!

Man, there are some real shit days out there.
There’s irritating, and then there’s real hardcore, ass-fucking pain.
Today was choreographed by a demon.
I won’t go into details, other than that it was waitressing related.
Waitressing. Fuck.
That cursed black apron that forever ties me down to pain and misery.
Will it ever end?
Will I ever be free of those abominable notepads and club sandwiches and fat diet cokeheads?
Or will I die leaving a shift to be covered and a restaurant short staffed?
I hate the fucking lingo.

It’s Just How I Roll

When I was a kid, I had well defined tastes in men.
I liked the sadist/dentist in Little Shop of Horrors.
A lot.
I liked his dark hair and his tight black pants.
I was very upset to learn that Steve Martin’s hair was not actually black, but grey.
I also liked Danny and Kenickie from Grease.
And Reggie from Archie comics.
I liked the badasses.
The jerks.
The antagonists.
The dark hair.
I still like dark haired, antagonistic jerks.
Probably because I myself am a dark haired jerk.
In my own life however, I’m the protagonist, right?

I Spell it Aleister

I had nothing to do with this video.
There’s something weird about watching my cat on youtube, especially when she’s sitting three feet away from me as I watch and laugh at her love frenzy and her kneading arms.
It would be even weirder if she was watching me watch her on youtube.
She’s not watching me, though, she’s looking at something over there.