March 2nd, 2004

no melodrama

you got your creative chocolate in MY internet peanut butter!

slim_hazard showed me This Stupid Link. actually i would need to write a whole new thesaurus to explain exactly how Stupid i think it is.

let's just say, for starters, people are entitled to tell other people not to read Their Creative Outlet on Thee Public Internet like a guy drawing with chalk on the sidewalk is entitled to tell everybody not to walk there. you want a private creative outlet? password protect, or better yet buy a scrapbook to lock up in your room. you don't belong out here in messageboard jungle.

the only good thing about that link is that if I see some clown actually linking to it, i know not to talk to them because they belong on a little virtual green lawn somewhere, babbling to themselves and other paranoid people who share their warped views of other people's rights.
  • Current Mood
    i have something better to do.
my name is nobody

don't laugh, your daughter may be in this car.

and my mom hate hate Hated that bumper sticker because her daughter was. heh. did i ever tell u she actually went to talk to fr. dracula, i mean fr. wessel, the six-foot-four skinny cassock-wearing goth-looking world-traveled converted-austrian-rabbi way-too-intelligent-for-some-crummy-little-parish priest, because she was afraid we were gonna get married fo' real. *rolls eyes exasperatedly* love may make me stupid occasionally, but never THAT stupid (sorry dear). i think he just told her to chill out or god would take care of it or something (boy did He ever) *shakes head* no i never told u that, because she didn't tell me that till i'd been married to somebody else/not speaking to you for a few years. i'm a great one for not speaking. 'cause you finally went over that line with me, amigo. that time at the show doesn't count, you forced me to talk to you, thank heaven p. was there and i'll never hate her because she definitely had her good sides. but i figure it's okay to talk to you again now you're dead. like, i made whatever point i was trying to make. or maybe there wasn't any, just a person whose nerves finally got so worn out that they shut down. anyway. earlier i was telling mike abt stuff i did 20 yrs ago, and for a minute i thought when i walked out of the office it would be you waiting for me in that wagon. or in the blue javelin that all the ghetto dudes envied out loud, summer 1982 and our first date and you pulling up in a street full of five-foot-wide concrete circle pipes (lakewood finally getting new storm sewers, no more flooded basements)

will you come get me? i don't want to be forgotten at the library or the statler office tower again

i need to sleep