Stoled from my OkCupid
Did you know that I’m emo?
A random internet stranger told me- It must be true! :DÂ Now then, off to Stick It In Yer Ear for Pedro the Lion and pounds of eyeliner :3
Fuck that shit. I had an unhappy moment, and now I am having a happy moment. I’ll have future unhappy moments just like I’ll have future happy moments. If you feel the need to inform me that expressing myself is abnormal, then kindly disconnect yourself from the internet, remove your head from your behind, and get back to whatever it was you were doing before discovering Maddox.
Thanks <3
Aside from that?
Apparently I got the concert date mucked up, so I’m seeing Weird Al the Monday AFTER next rather than plain ol’ tomorrow. Very cool regardless, seeing as though that means more time to jog/Silent Hill/pander around for jobs with Doug and DougWyfe.
Also? I still don’t care about the Obama family. Enuf with the damn interviews!
I don’t care about Hollywood, but I care about me
I have an obsession with celebrities and the magazines dedicated to them. I love to read about their tragedies and dramas, their pregnancies and divorces, but mostly I like to be jealous of their beauty and general fabulousness.
Questionable tattoos are mandatory, though.
Whatever the rules or reasons are, I find that I’m more obsessed with them when I’m at a hump in writing. I want to write and I need to write. But I can’t write.
These people don’t inspire me any more than the Burnett’s Raspberry Flavored Shit Vodka, or the long talks with my dad, or all the nagging plot bunnies in my head. I’m going to have to work to the bone to find a good job and get the fuck out of here, leave my celebrities and Burnett’s Raspberry and Dad behind, and dedicate myself solely to those damn plot bunnies.
Or lay out some traps and OK magazines or something, I don’t know.
