Why are we colors?

Does anyone else find "paintball" just about the funniest thing in the world? It's like, it's not really a gun, or anything! My white boyfriend has spent over a THOUSAND dollars pimping out his paintball gun. He carries it in a little silver suitcase that you might find in a b-rated kung-fu/druglord movie, and he's damn serious about his fake gun.

Seriously, though, IT'S A FAKE GUN! Like, it's fake and shit, people, it's a fake gun! You can probably spend less on real gun bullets at Walmart, than you would on paintballs. Maybe it's just the poor girl in me, but I could understand if it was *less* expensive to purchase a fake gun than a real one. I'm not even saying it's cooler to spend a lot on a real gun, but if someone busts into my apartment, I don't want to maybe hurt them with paint, I want to kill them. Can you have a loaded paintball gun in your apartment?

Birdman is always trying to get me to play "fake gun shooting" in the forest. How fucking scary would it be if you were a deer, and you came across a couple of really serious looking white people shooting each other, and shooting each other and shooting each other. Wouldn't you be pissed if you were that deer? Like, in deer land, the white-man-with-gun is so archetypal to them, that fake guns would be so ironic to them, it would just blow their little deer minds . Or maybe they would just run away, because they're deer.

At least rich white people back in the day would eat the fox after they scared the shit out of it, or at least I think they did, don't quote me. And if the fake gun isn't too expensive for you, you can also buy "gear", like face masks and elbow pads, there's even paintball jerseys ! Like, in case you can't find the other person you're "shooting". And don't get me wrong, lots of trashy white people spend their entire paychex on this shit, i'm not counting out the trashy paintballers. All of this makes me wonder if there were trashy fox hunters, like these people on the countryside on donkeys or something, like, we can fox hunt too, damnit. Maybe only the trashy ones ate foxes.

Sensible Joe and I would fill our squirt guns up with food coloring and wear white t-shirts and get stoned and go to Lincoln Park for fun, but water isn't painful. If I stub my toe when i'm stoned I cry like i've just been sexually assaulted. Who wants to play a game that hurts? Better yet, who wants to play any game when you're a stoner, isn't being high 14 hours a day fun enough?

More time needs to be invested into my understanding of this shit.

Where did this come from?

I was either stoned or in college when I wrote this, either way, I wish I knew what I was talking about!:

I smudged the lunatic
for lethargic hypocrisy
turning a paler shade
of deviant solicitude

When did we
become the pitch?

I stand
feet pivoted behind
the local garbage can
we’re all growing up...

A few things to add

I finally figured out how to add the title bar to the blog. I would like to state for the record that I love Michael Moore, and I urge everyone to see "The Big One", I have yet to see "Roger and Me", but I don't want to get too involved, and watch everything he has done all at once, I can't handle the veracity of his work. If he ran for God, I would definitely vote for him.

I think that if George W. Gets elected, I'm going to have to exercise my right to bear arms for my own protection. In a way, I think we need another civil war. Nothing has changed. Women are still making at least 25 cents less per dollar in the American workforce than men. Illiterate people still exist in a country that thrives entirely on modern forms of communication. Is this our 60's? Is it finally coming, are we finally smelling change? Why do I want a pistol, that cool black shit football players wear under their eyes, and a sturdy canteen?

Wouldn't it be funny/scary if the Michigan Militia were the only Americans prepared for combat? Do we really want environmentalists in charge after W.'s 8 year reign? What republicans don't realize is, when you capitalize everything, when 13-16 year olds hold the economy on their backs, feet and walkman's, things are bound to go wrong. Two percent can not run the universe with all this weed around. I don't want to get too into it, though, like when my grandma called me every day for a month before New Year's 2000 to ask me if I bought a bike, "just to be safe".

I'm scared for all of us, I'm scared that Christians are running the planet. I'm scared that priests are doing babies. I'm scared that Jay-Z retired. I'm scared that Owen Wilson is cool. I don't want to be fat anymore, I want to be hot again. I want brucio.com to be updated.

I bought shitty schwag shit and I feel like there is a hole in my brain right above my right eyelid. I went to see "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle", and I'll admit I laughed out loud several times, and the cheetah bit is classic. Other than that, it was shit and I could have done a much better job. Or apparently, I can't, because I haven't written anything amusing in at least a month.

There is too much shit to worry about, and I really don't want to go back to school. It looks like I may become a normal person, afterall. I'll go to college, and get excited about wine, and spend too much on concert tickets for bands that should have retired years before I got to be that old. And I'll have seven children, and I'll never get my teeth fixed, and I'll only know how to make pasta, and even then I'll have to buy sauce. Paul will work full time and I'll wonder what it would have been like to be rich so much so that my children will be pressured into living my dreams. Luckily for them, I've never wanted to be a cheerleader or a beauty pageant contestant. Unluckily for them, I've always wanted my own chainmail (sp?). I just hope that if I have sons, they won't smell bad. That is really all I'm asking, in this lifetime, anyway. When I'm a chipmunk, well, that's another story.