Can't Trust A Ho, But You Can Sure As Hell Cut One

3oh!3 with my own input.

But really, I almost flipped shit at band tonight.

I started with SHUT UP and didn't make it to the up...I have the self control of a saint. Or I think I was just too angry to vocalize anything at that point.

But really. You can't say someone's step sizes are too big just because you don't want to admit you're wrong. You also can't say someone is lying about where they are and "moved" to adjust themselves...when they are on a "perfect point" (hard to explain, just assume) on the field. You just don't want to see that I am right and you are wrong. It's not even on an opinionated basis. It's a factual basis. White paint doesn't lie, and if my feet are on it...they're not lying.

I'm starting to type like I play the clarinet...FANTASTIC FINGERS.

The one good thing that came out of band tonight..."FINGER YOUR PARTS". Think about that.

Think about it long and hard. 

Ohohoho.

Uh. I'm also sick of freshman not caring. And band directors not seeing that I'm working my tail off. And I'm pissed I didn't get section leader. I wish the other two weren't in the postition as well. I'm being a self-centered, whiny brat...but I sort of have reasons.

Excuse me as I drown myself in Oreo McFlurry and emo bitchtears.

Also, Bitch Tits Bob goes to my school. If you're familiar with Fight Club, you know.

Um. My back hurts. My feet hurt. I'm stuck with my mom for the next week...alone...

Speaking of that heifer, she threw a bitch fit because I told her I need her to take my clarinet in to get fixed.

...

argh.

I need sleep.

ANGRY HOMOSEXUAL BLARRRRGHGHGHHGGH

Early Morning Thoughts...August 30th.

So I had a dream where I desperately needed to get ahold of my Hannah Montana wig (which I actually own in real life), so much that I passed up a car ride and instead trekked a mile from my high school to my friend Sam's house (who is actually holding onto my HM wig in real life), and I knew she wasn't home. But that didn't matter. I had every intention of busting into her house...so just as I was about to call her and ask if there was a key hidden under the rug,  but the moment I found myself crouching down on her porch, the door opened. It turned out a kind, older black woman (the choir teacher at my school) was housesitting for her, and I awkwardly said I would come back to "see Sam" later, and then I left and started walking home. And then...I woke up.

--So I'm moving to a new house soon, and my parents are talking about how we're going to stop buying a lot of food because they don't want to move it to the new house. There's never anything to eat AS IT IS. I was eating bread in the kitchen the other day, in a mesh of angry and dejected emotions, before my grandparents showed up and were like "HAI YOU WANT SOME ICE CREAM" and I was like "HECK YES I WANT SOME ICE CREAM, AND A BACON CHEESEBURGER TOO". So I ate.

--My mother repeats the same things that she thinks are funny OVER and OVER again. One, they weren't funny to begin with, two, she's like a twelve year old who just discovered memes.

--I HATE STABBING NECK PAIN.

--I want...to update my wallpaper. On my sexpot Macbook.

--I wish the scanner worked.

--Insert bass line.

Mmm, eggs.

I was reading an ad for eggs in a magazine.

They were advertised as "organic".

I read the ad as it saying they were "orgasmic".

...

Those are some good eggs.

Overused internet memes will always be my titles. Ew, this sounds like a Fall Out Boy song.

Insert insecure censorship.

But really, people have said that I should get a blog...so I figured I would. Hell yes. :l

There's no real point in even doing this...I mean there are like >9000 of these things on the internet....so I doubt someone's gonna read mine. But maybe. I don't know. Possibly.

Bahhhhh.

I figure having an outlet for all of my strange thoughts is a good idea.

--I can only remember the meaning of the word "erotema" based on the off-topic discussion in my English AP class that ended with the phrase "erotic enema" being formed. An erotema is a rhetorical question. So is asking if you want an erotic enema. Because of course the answer is a resounding yes.

--The Scarlet Letter isn't so bad, speakng of AP. I guess I sort of like sin and adultery.

--I spent an hour today reading about heavily abused feral children.

--Either I have no friends, or else they're all off cooking ramen.

--I'm also reading D.Gray Man.

--I listened to a lot of AFI today.

--Am I supposed to give background information on this? Because I've got like ten different personalities I can fall into. Huuuuuh.

--Kayla is one crunk beyotch.

--My alcoholic uncle and his Christian girlfriend are coming up today, potentially to milk money from my small-town grandfather and mentally incompetent grandmother.

--My shoulder hurts

--My science teacher is a fag hag, but really...sending a gay guy to go put his makeup on in the MEN'S restroom at a high school is a BAD idea. I see fists and knives, and I don't even live in DC anymore.

--Did you know there are Twilight themed dildos?