"You say it's in all in my head, and the things I think just don't make sense."
Marshmallows (not the mini colored ones) dipped in a bowl of Dreyer's half-melted chocolate ice cream – the organic treatment for depression. Unfortunately depression is often coupled with a lack of appetite, and thus I have not finished the dessert a la coronary. Lil' Wayne's Myspace page is up in the background of my computer screen, with his new song "Lolipop"(which is actually spelled lollipop, but I forgive) pumping through my speakers, which emit only a muffled version. I am hoping that the calories will travel south to my rear end to battle over for who can contribute the most to its growth. I want the butt featured in many rappers' rhymes. I suppose bigger breasts come in a close second, but I will eat enough for both to swell. Chocolate ice cream and marshmallows beat out nine months of pregnancy in the race for lovely lady lumps.
"But man I never seen an ass like err." And thank you Dwayne Michael Carter Jr.
Masturbation can also combat depression – an organic treatment for the weight conscious. I cannot imagine why, but I have been told that there are some women who desire a runway model's butt. What is that you ask? I do not know. I can never seem to spot one. At least I am not too serotonin deficient to crack jokes. Since I took a vacation day yesterday, I shall fill you in on what you might have missed in the department of naked confessions. I want to bring back the dying Roman numeral to help highlight the most important points of an unimportant day.
I. I received a slap on my wrist by my grandmother for using the Lord's name in vain.
"But man I never seen an ass like err." And thank you Dwayne Michael Carter Jr.
Masturbation can also combat depression – an organic treatment for the weight conscious. I cannot imagine why, but I have been told that there are some women who desire a runway model's butt. What is that you ask? I do not know. I can never seem to spot one. At least I am not too serotonin deficient to crack jokes. Since I took a vacation day yesterday, I shall fill you in on what you might have missed in the department of naked confessions. I want to bring back the dying Roman numeral to help highlight the most important points of an unimportant day.
I. I received a slap on my wrist by my grandmother for using the Lord's name in vain.
II. I told her that I already had my place reserved in hell, or limbo, whichever is reserved for unbaptized babies. Yes folks, that's right, I have recently learned that I was in fact not baptized. I think they forged my records in order to get me into catechism classes.
III. I had two popsicles for breakfast, and was then promptly lectured by my boyfriend on eating "properly." I honestly thought this morning's meal classified as bragging rights.
IV. I drove home from school with windows down, and sang loud and out of tune lyrics to Ben Harper's "Live from Mars" album.
V. I decided to take a break from writing at midnight, only to be confronted with a closed McDonalds! Shameful.
Well, that sums up my Friday, apart from the secret missions I took part in, those I cannot reveal. This is an "online diary," but I am a CIA operative, and I can keep secrets for the sake of my country. This morning I took a bath, said my favorite four letter word a total of five times, and was asked by my mother if I was in my room popping anti-depressants. I told her yes. Since the theme of today's blog seems to be the random and unimportant, I present the "Did You Know" show with your host, the sexy Susie Q.
Well, that sums up my Friday, apart from the secret missions I took part in, those I cannot reveal. This is an "online diary," but I am a CIA operative, and I can keep secrets for the sake of my country. This morning I took a bath, said my favorite four letter word a total of five times, and was asked by my mother if I was in my room popping anti-depressants. I told her yes. Since the theme of today's blog seems to be the random and unimportant, I present the "Did You Know" show with your host, the sexy Susie Q.
The "Did You Know" show with the sexy Susie Q.
Did you know that Christian Bale, also known as one Batman, is married?
In conversation with my mother's friend Lou Anne* Mr. Bale's name was mentioned, and she said "You know Marissa; I don't think Christian Bale is married." As if I could just call his mobile and ask him out for a date. But alas, this fine specimen of a man is in fact married. He politely turned me down.
Did you know that Megan Fox is engaged?
Tears have been wept over this news in all of the developed countries worldwide. I even read on Perez Hilton's page that tears have also been shed in the developing countries of the world. Actually, I do not read his gossip column. I am sophisticated as shit.
Lastly, did you know that the girl I hated during my post-high school days is engaged?
Is that not important? Oh, but it is, that is one less woman on the market of the average income unknowns.That concludes the Did You Know Show with the beautiful Susie Q. Please join us next week for more senseless gossip and Susie's fabulous ass. Maybe this is all old news for you lot, but I don't get out much.
I am one who rewards patience. My first boyfriend waited patiently for 364 days, and on the night of the 365th day he was rewarded with my virginity. I will now reward you all for your patience, that is for those of you still reading, and not for those who have left Myspace in search of Megan Fox and Christian Bale Google photos, the Kleenex box, and cooking oil.
Can you Guess who is writing a book? That would be me and all of the other wannabe writers populating this country. My plan is to out-curse them all, and win the hearts of the readers with my inventory of white trash proverbs, and unrefined sense of humor. It will be a blog first, that will then hatch into a book when I send in the manuscript seven months pregnant, and after being denied government welfare benefits. It will be an exaggerated auto-biography, for my childhood was not interesting enough for publishing, but with a stretch of the truth we will have: The Childhood Every Writer Should Have Had. As long as I don't lie about my child abuse and drug use Opera will have me on her book list soon.
My theory is that a certain type of childhood produces a great writer, and one that can be modeled with future generations. I have not researched my theory, I have not formulated a hypothesis, nor have I found statistical significance to support; instead, I decided that exaggeration and no claims to the truth are the only way in which to proceed. I do not like cautious treading, and I never clean the mud off my shoes.
It will double as a parenting book for ambitious parents who eventually come to live vicariously through their children.
* Names have been changed because I now know that my address is listed on the internet.
In conversation with my mother's friend Lou Anne* Mr. Bale's name was mentioned, and she said "You know Marissa; I don't think Christian Bale is married." As if I could just call his mobile and ask him out for a date. But alas, this fine specimen of a man is in fact married. He politely turned me down.
Did you know that Megan Fox is engaged?
Tears have been wept over this news in all of the developed countries worldwide. I even read on Perez Hilton's page that tears have also been shed in the developing countries of the world. Actually, I do not read his gossip column. I am sophisticated as shit.
Lastly, did you know that the girl I hated during my post-high school days is engaged?
Is that not important? Oh, but it is, that is one less woman on the market of the average income unknowns.That concludes the Did You Know Show with the beautiful Susie Q. Please join us next week for more senseless gossip and Susie's fabulous ass. Maybe this is all old news for you lot, but I don't get out much.
I am one who rewards patience. My first boyfriend waited patiently for 364 days, and on the night of the 365th day he was rewarded with my virginity. I will now reward you all for your patience, that is for those of you still reading, and not for those who have left Myspace in search of Megan Fox and Christian Bale Google photos, the Kleenex box, and cooking oil.
Can you Guess who is writing a book? That would be me and all of the other wannabe writers populating this country. My plan is to out-curse them all, and win the hearts of the readers with my inventory of white trash proverbs, and unrefined sense of humor. It will be a blog first, that will then hatch into a book when I send in the manuscript seven months pregnant, and after being denied government welfare benefits. It will be an exaggerated auto-biography, for my childhood was not interesting enough for publishing, but with a stretch of the truth we will have: The Childhood Every Writer Should Have Had. As long as I don't lie about my child abuse and drug use Opera will have me on her book list soon.
My theory is that a certain type of childhood produces a great writer, and one that can be modeled with future generations. I have not researched my theory, I have not formulated a hypothesis, nor have I found statistical significance to support; instead, I decided that exaggeration and no claims to the truth are the only way in which to proceed. I do not like cautious treading, and I never clean the mud off my shoes.
It will double as a parenting book for ambitious parents who eventually come to live vicariously through their children.
* Names have been changed because I now know that my address is listed on the internet.
"Now she only fools around with losers with tattoos."
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