Happy birthday, Henry Rollins! You sexy, ranty beast, you.

Damn.

So anyway, my day was just one big swirl of shit. I felt like shit, looked like shit, talked a lot of shit and, um, I've run out of ways to use the word "shit." Whatever. Shit, shit, shit.

May and I sat in the diner for a really long time tonight. We wrote a haiku about her cervix. If we could bottle our talent and sell it, we would be fucking millionaires. Seriously.

Oh, and then I ate some carrot cake even though I kinda hate carrot cake. Which is weird because I'm usually quite fond of food that encompasses all four food groups. Anyway, it was free, so yay, free! Then I remembered that I'm kinda allergic to walnuts, but they just make my mouth hurt so whatever. And then I started thinking, like, what if I were really allergic to walnuts? Like breaking-out-in-hives allergic? Wouldn't it be funny if I was all covered in hives and started chasing children around going "Eeee, don't touch me! I'm contagious! Eeee!"? Holy shit! I have plans for Valentine's Day! Yay! And then I realized I was being cruel. Poor kids. So senior citizens, it is.

Now I'm going to wake up in the morning all hivey and shit. Fuck.

I know there was other stuff discussed and more plans...planned, but one of us is going for an all-nighter and the other one is getting FUCKING SICK, even though she never gets sick cuz she, like, eats tofu and is pretty nice to old ladies, so it sure as hell ain't bad habits or karma that's making every single inch of my body ache.

Which reminds me...Halls Honey and Lemon Drops? Taste like hate. And for some reason, I bought them, even though I suspected they would be foul. I think it had to do with pain being fun or something. I don't know. Anything. I don't know anything.

Dude, it feels like I have rug burn on my knees. And the only explanation I can think of is that I've been sleep-whoring again. Great.

Oh! Dude! I saw this guy from high school at the diner and I didn't even recognize him. He must have hit puberty after we graduated cuz damn. My best friend and I used to call him JC Penney Boy because he was always immaculately dressed like in the catalog. He was also very young looking and non-threatening. And funny as hell. Anyway, he was good friends with a friend of mine, but conversation was limited to me standing there, listening, while someone I knew talked to him. Make sense? Remember: high school, insomnia, debilitating shyness and an abundance of that Mexican Valium. I rarely spoke.

Where was I going with this?

Oh, yeah. He came up to me tonight and asked if I remembered him. I kinda cocked my head and he said his name. I'm like, holy shit, you should totally go on Jenny Jones for one of those "You made fun of me in high school, now look at what a total fox I've turned into" shows. I didn't really say that, but I was thinking it pretty loud. Anyway.

OK, I need sleep. Must not be sick for Rollins, must not be sick for Rollins, must not be sick for Rollins.

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