Do I get my lap dance now?
All the kids can't live without it.
I'm so extra pumped. I just found out that this hell rock
star-esque, punk rawk lovin', mega God worshipping stud
muffin named Tyler smokes. Just cigarettes, but whatever.
It's a start. And I was thinking about all of our friends,
and who smokes and who doesn't, and he and I are the only
ones. We could *so* become smoking social buddies!!
Aren't I lame? Too bad he's away at college right now, and
I won't get to see him for a while. Hey, but I can
increase my smoking habits so I need one, like, every 20
minutes, so when he comes back, every 20 minutes will be
quality one-on-one time with the rock star. Brilliant.
And then when we both get cancer from smoking so much, we
can be hospital buddies, too. Chemotherapy buddies. Ha
ha! Oh, cancer. Mmmmmmmm.
In other news, my best friend, April, took me with her to
get herself a tattoo today, and that was a pretty
fascinating experience. I took pictures. The man who did
it wasn't as friendly as I'd hoped he'd be, and when I get
mine, I probably won't go back to that same place. Anyway,
what I'm getting at is that we came back to my parents
house that evening, and my dad says to me "Did you get a
tattoo?" as soon as I show up. Isn't that weird? My
parents must have spies out or something. Like, they know
I'm on drugs, even though I've done absolutely nothing to
give them a reason to think that. And my mom knew I
started smoking waaaaay before I was even addicted. And
then later on that evening, I mentioned something about my
boyfriend, Eric, and my dad says "Oh yeah? What's he
selling these days?" Like, implying that it was something
illegal. Eric used to sell his weed-free urine to some kid
on parole. Well, it was a trade. The kid got wizz, and
Eric got any pill of his choosing.
They know. They know everything. There's something about
my parents that's just really unsettling. One night I was
at a restaurant with my friends, and after we'd left to go
home, one of the bus boys said he saw my mom's van parked
across the street in the empty lot for, like, 45 minutes.
She was just waiting... watching... Isn't that creepy? My
mom fucking stalks me. Yeah, this is my life, and I need a
car really bad so I can move.
(P.S. Eric and George are the same person, but I used to
call Eric "George" for shits. When I first met him, I
didn't care to learn his name, so I referred to him as
George, and it stuck.)
Current mood: tweaked.
Current music: Me First and the Gimme Gimmes - Eleanor.
Current advice: Book your band at the Crocodile Cafe in