"Let me lay it on the line
I've got a little freakyness inside
And you know that the man
has got to deal wit it

i don't care what they say
im not about to pay no body's way
cause it's all about the dawg in me"

for some reason, whenever I see my two male dogs wrestle each other, I can't help but think of this song...

Last night I had this dream that I was in a mansion that was owned by the guy who directed Amistad, and my mom was there, and she was asking him all these questions about this ring he was wearing, that I guess he got instead of an Oscar. The ring had two emeralds on either side of an Onyx marble that read "you are an asshole". There were cats everywhere, and they were eating lego's. The mansion overlooked a small body of water, and it was raining really heavily. I was driving around this giant house in a little go-cart, and my whole family was there, and there were a couple of dead bodies in the house, but they didn't smell weird or anything, and there was this giant library like Beauty and the Beast, and my sisters were arguing over who fucked up rotation, which is weird because it was just the two of them smoking together.

I wonder if you can have ibuprophen withdrawl...

Okay, so i've been really bored, and seeing that I can't masturbate for reasons beyond anyone's concern except for my own, I've been forced to stay online for hours at a time.

The only event of note in my life today took place this afternoon, when birdman, looking quite sexy in his new denim jacket and grey skully whisked me away to Spot on Elmwood, where I had a less than appeasing soy hot chocolate (poop) and an eclair that had chocolate mousse in the middle instead of chocolate custard, like I was expecting. It's kind of like when you go to tim hortons and they accidentally give you a bastard boston creme pie with that trashy frosting in the middle, and you just want to scoop all of the frosting out of it, and put it on your face, and go back through the drive thru and scare the shit out of the little fuck who gave you the wrong insolent donut.

I also asked for whipped creme on the top of my hot chocolate, which I did not receive, and I do not feel comfortable asking the gentlemen with more metal loops on his lip than a shower curtain for whipped cream because the guy at the counter was kind of "angry-gay". Who forgets to put whipped creme on hot chocolate? I just don't understand why it's so hard for some people to grasp that i can't drink whole milk, but I can have heavy cream, it's just my stomach, i'm sorry...

I want to dress my dog up like a reindeer for Christmas, but I don't want him to bite anyone if he's pissed at me for making him wear antlers, that might ruin the Christmas spirit. My stomach hurts, and I need a new purse.

Averie is doing quite well on the Ellen Show, she's one of three women that Jeff is still interested in, but she should know that I have decided to date her if Jeff doesn't, in fact my first stoner name was ironically Jeff, so I feel as if I could compensate in some way. You're always number 1 here, Averie!

I love you Lynn, you have been one of my best friends for a long time now, and we should buy a couple of candles and a package of wiggers and wall out on my Nintendo some time.

I love you Birdman, and your sexy hat and hair and new credit card limits.

I wish I knew someone named Keisha so I could do a shout out to Keisha, but i guess that will have to wait...

Did I ever tell you about how I got kicked out of college? Contrary to popular belief, it was not from our favorite plant, but instead from our favorite fem nazi, ironically the head of the department that was single handedly keeping me interested in college to begin with. She was one tough cookie, like one of those baby cookies, do you remember baby cookies that babies could suck on for hours? Yea, and if you weren't in class on time, or if you had sun chips that crunched too hard, or if you had a penis, or if your notes weren't up to date, she probably didn't like you. But, see, I made sure I chewed gum, the only problem with me apparently is that my fat ass couldn't make it from one hall to the other in the ten minutes between my second class (that always runs over) to hers in a time that met her approval. So everday it was like this, she'd stop the lecture when I got into class, mouth agape and fighting for air I would struggle to my seat, always a different chair, and almost always in the dead center of the room, tripping over north face bookbags and my own walkman that for some funny reason i would forget to turn off once i finally accustomed myself to the lecture, that she would continue once I made my entrance....

part 2 later on, i smell food

an old english teacher once said that if we needed to use bold text in one of our stories, we lacked most creative ability, so i asked her "what about the question mark?", and she threw me out of class

Last night I had a dream about Bruce McCulloch. Every time this happens I realize that I am, in fact, a drug addict. This brings me back to Ani DiFranco, little plastic castle and the hip's Phantom Power. I don't know why some things have to be capitalized, this is my fucking paragraph, and i'm sick of worrying about what college i'm going to go (back) to, or what bra color goes with my corresponding t-shirt, or why i should or shouldn't do what you all want me to say, maybe I don't like it when I say the right thing, maybe it makes me a better person , or even better off worse for not giving a fuck about what you think about me and doing the right girl, or a phisiological disaster that ends up changing the world for the better. would anyone care if i deleted this entire paragraph by accident, and if not, then I will type it.