February 21, 2002 :: 12:45 a.m.
things that must die
Heh. I just checked my stats and found an amusing Google hit: "'french toast bagel' want." Interesting structure on that one, eh? Sex want. Nutella toast want. Wads of money want.
If I search for these things, what would I find? I can only imagine. Well, actually, I don't have to imagine what I'd get if I searched for "sex want." More porn than you could shake a stick at, that's what I'd get.
FAFSA must die. It is foul and tax-related and most definitely kicked my ass. My brain hurt. A lot. But eventually, we did get most of it sorted out and finished. I have to get my W2 back from my grandma before I can finish it, though. Blah.
I don't have much to say. This is a sad, sad thing. I'm almost done with Memoirs of a Geisha. Again. I adore that book. It's my... new girlfriend. It will be replaced by another soon enough, but for now it's my lesbian lover. It keeps me warm and cozy at night. And, you know, it does that thing where it flicks its pages just so... ooh! But alas, it will be over soon. Adam told me that I should take the twenty bucks that my grandma gave me and run out to Borders and buy a book or two instead of giving it to him (you see, I owe him $18), but I'm not sure if that's wise. Perhaps I'll compromise and go to Book Sale. I can get three books for ten bucks and then give him the rest. Although I'm very tempted to take my precious few dollars and spend it at the Salvation Army, because I haven't been there in ages and I'm itching for some new t-shirts. Whatever. I'll do something with it, have no fear.
Speaking of fear... I have to go to the fucking dentist again tomorrow. I hate my dentist. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd murder him with his own drill. And I'd stuff nasty, gritty filling metal into his ears while I was doing it. Perhaps I'd shove a bit of it up his urethra, also. Just to be nice. He's going to shoot me full of novocain and fill my mouth with metallic nastiness. And then he's probably going to tell me that I have to make another appointment, because apparently all of my teeth are rotting even though I brush them faithfully. *groans* Isn't that just lovely? Yes, I thought so too.
My dentist must also die. He and the stupid FAFSA form will suffer slow, painful deaths together, weeping as I deal out blow after blow with a spiked mace... erm... or a splintered club. That would work too.
edited 1:49 a.m. Happy 200th entry to me. I just noticed that.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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