This IS the most irrational, and ... well-spent ... $50 of my entire life... I love you. I might leave you; but I'll NEVER leave you.

[[btwits755pm]]

DRAFTS; the Xanga drafts specifically - they're the ME of the internet-blogging-scum of society... Just the ones that never can FINISH, so they're the ones that never MAKE IT, and
"Do you love me?" he asks;
"Of course." a practiced smile that, oh-come-on, we all know SO well;
And yeah, lying looks about as easy as that these days...
But no, no, no...
And "it's all wrong."
And "I don't even know what this means."
And "The Light Behind Your Eyes?" ????
Something else well-practiced, well
WHAT CAN I SAY?
This was never what I planned...
YOU KNOW, that this was never what I had in the plans! The plans, the plans, the
WHAT PLANS?!
Wait, um excuse me, but can someone direct me to the URL of the specific Xanga-post that these plans were kept in ???
Is this making sense? Or nonsense? Or just more incense? to cover up my weed-sense? Well, I think mostly it must be wine-sense...
"THINGS ARE BETTER IF I STAY..."
Oh GOD, all those well-practiced, old-habits, of the die-hards!
"So long, and goodnight."
"So long, not goodnight."
And
CAN WE JUST PUBLISH IT;
-honey-
?
...shh...itsjustforyou...

Then you're in the right place...

Should I send this text to my new roomie, Matt, who passive aggressively balled me out in a note taped to the thermostat about the temperature I set it to?: ...

Hey Matt, I'm sorry you were cold this morning! We feel bad. It was just a little hard getting to sleep last night because we were so hot, and we'd already tried putting a fan on like you suggested, and tried opening the window. :/ And I assumed that we were allowed free-range to operate the thermostat. But don't worry! I know now, and we can get a window-ac-unit, so you won't have to be cold again. Anyways, sorry about that! Would you like me to buy you a pack of something better than Lonestar to make it up to you?

(If he says yes, I'm going to still just get him fucking Lonestar, and tell him "they were out" of whatever.. Haha, douchebag.. I mean, even if he says he was just at the store or something, and he saw the beer he wanted, I'll say they must've been out of stock when I checked or something, hahaha, cunt..) Fuck this asshole. We're on the lease now, bitch! So the only one keeping me from staying here now, is my half-hearted boyfriend! And I'm sure I'll end up getting kicked out, (I'm not anyone's favorite on 'Survivor'.) but I'd rather it be by Carlton, than by this freaking gay-ass fucking fag called "Matt". ... You know what? ... You know how much I LOVE Chick-Fil-A?? You KNOW HOW MUCH I crave it all the time?!?!?! But, even though I want it SO FUCKING BAD, I stand strong and boycot it... And why?? Because apparently they discriminate against gay people, which wouldn't be that bad, because it's not too uncommon, unfortunately - but they also donate to anti-gay groups, and to me pretty much anyone who donates to an "anti" group at all, is considered a waste of oxygen in my opinion... But homophobes are one of the most particularly terrible ones. Come on, love is love. But whatever, I don't want to go into my reasons for supporting gays right now; the fact is that I think that probably for the most part gay-men hate me... I think this because every gay-man I've ever met, has hated me. And I think this might be because I come across as super girly, delicate, and feminine... But the second someone lives with me, they realize that although I dress stylishly and fashionably in pink, and although I love doing my make-up, and love a tidy-room ... my nails are rarely done, and my hands are rarely washed, and I'd rather be a dirty, cheap, junkie hippie-gypsy, than a beauty-model.. And I'd rather dawn a pink bandana than a manicure - any day - and that my style doesn't "work" and my decor doesn't "match", and I'd rather be a neon-ninja, than a woman of high-class...
WELL, FUCKING KISS MY ASS...

And oh, by the way, I think I am gonna send it...
Tell ya how it goes!

I didn't get to go out for Mardi Gras, so I'm celebrating this way since no one I know in real life has Xanga anymore...

Okay; let's admit it.
It's time we both come clean.
Because right now I need your guidance,
more than I could ever need..
We both knew I always knew,
just who you'd become...
But I never knew...
That one drug you were on.
Well, I never cared,
because it <u>never</u> was important.
&You never dared,
to ever <i>not</i> put <u>us</u> before it...
And I know you hit my Mom;
And I know you scarred my Dad;
And you broke my Grandma's heart;
And you hated my Grandad...
But Uncle Ben, we loved you so damn much -
Cassie, Nick, and I.
You never let it touch us;
and you <i><u><b>never</i></u></b> made us cry.

*I hope you know that, Uncie-B... Straight up/bet/dollars to donuts/swear... it's the truth. : <b>You never made us cry.</b>*

You <i>always</i> made sure we were sheltered;
even though you know I knew,
about all those things you ever hoped that,
your "sweetest friend" - would never do.
And I know you know my lies,
and I know you see the truth...
And I know your heart is breaking,
because I'm just becoming you.
And I know you think that no one
knows you died in dignity;
that you died being the most alive..
that you could ever be...
And that you were in your home-town -
Ben, I know you had the option! -
but when the results came out...
<b>It just wasn't in your system.</b>
...
<i>How come it wasn't in your sytem?</i>

<b><u>METH</b></u> just <i>wasn't</i> in your system.

...

Oops, I called you out.
Sorry, but it doesn't matter.
We all know you had it coming,
or blame it on this brain that's scattered ...
YOU should be here with me!
You're not old enough!
I never thought that you'd leave -
oh, such lonely stuff...
Fuck an "empire of dirt",
cause all you had was dust!
And even all the dust I kept;
well hell! - It all burned up !!!

I'm stuck again in a down-pour, once more; on a rained-out, high-stormed, burned-out, closed-door; re-run of a Sunday-night hurricane... Saturday was partly cloudy, only; a bit less foggy, cold, and lonely. Weekends just aren't the same these days; I suppose I noticed fifty shades... In the bitter end when colors fade, they all add up to grey. Monday's sun won't amount to much - it's not a shock; it never does. Tuesday's sun wll be the same; but with an added chance of rain. Wednesday's supposed to be nice; it will freeze the cold-front and melt the ice. But if you just blink once or twice, you'll see the cheap-flourescent-bulb, blinking out just beyond sight... Thursday shows some thunder-clouds, but in the distance they won't be loud. I think I'm starting to get the feeling that on any average day, the highs will be low, and the lows will be high, And the silver lining's really grey. And in any week, the brightest part, will just be the one that was least grey. And But they say Friday will be sunny.

Do you love me because I'm beautiful?
Or am I beautiful because you love me?
Is this where the difference lies between the 99 year old grandparents you see sitting on porches smiling side by side in rocking chairs; and the men who jump ship at the first hint of a mid-life crisis in the taboo shape of the most passable illegal-alien maid cleaning their shower, or the first platinum-blonde gold-digging 18-year-old to look their way - or the women who just straightened one too many ties in their marriage, or endured one too many disappointing anniversaries and Valentines Days to be able to stomach making another sandwich they won't get to taste, and become excited about getting to be bored, because everyone knows that for a woman in a mid-life crisis, nothing goes better with menopause than a mid-grade Lexus, a brand-name treadmill, a specially-designed invisible-wine-glass made with all of the mad, married, mid-life, moody, martyr-Moms in mind, and a ripe young man to clean the pool left to rot by the kids - and to think, that concrete pit in the backyard that only ever has soggy, dead leaves in it, was once the spot where your sunny little garden was ... And to complete the ironicly predictable, full turn of the cycle of overanalyzation ... This is the exact reason they are blessedly able to deny all guilt for actions taken that once may have shocked and sickened them, but now are no more than a righteous, fair, completely-justifiable reaction to the actions of their loved ones which were brought on by feelings very hard to differentiate from their own once the fine details are stripped away; Enter: the worn out, worn down, overworked, overlooked, and over-obligated Dad's of the world, who hit middle-age and wake up terrified one day, to the realization that when they vowed to eternally love the woman making their sandwhiches, they hadn't yet endured 16 years of Ham and Cheese being the only divider between morning work and afternoon work, and now suddenly it's somewhat understandable that all it takes is one little personal assistant in a tight mini-skirt to reach into the breakroom fridge and pull out a turkey and cheese sandwhich, to make you remember that other sandwhiches are still out there ... It's just ashame that they rarely stop to consider that the turkey and cheese will go the way of the ham and cheese, and will eventually fall prey to roast-beef and cheese or salami and cheese, which will probably in time be left for some other meat and cheese as well. And I really think that there's probably a time in these men's lives, after they've had their fill of every meat and cheese combination they could ever imagine, that they realize that in the end it was all just a different meat with cheese. And once that concept hits, I could only imagine that the ones who haven't yet drowned their last brain-cells out in whiskey, finally come to understand the reason why the Ham and Cheese might have been worth sticking with - because what it all boils down to, is when they open their lunches during their breaks, they might have something new to brag about, or they might just have Ham and Cheese. But if
Is someone more beautiful before you fall for them, or once you've fallen?
I think both, in different ways; I think beauty can have two meanings here.
If someone asked you where you would want to go most if you could go anywhere in the world, chances are it would be somewhat far from whatever you consider home ... But if someone asked you where you would want to <i>stay</i> most ... Is your answer the same as your previous one? Did it come to mind a lot quicker? Was it somewhere somewhat far from the place you "want to go"? Was it less of a fun little decision to think about, and more of a plain fact that can't easily be opposed? Was it the place you're standing now? Was it somewhere near by? Was it somewhere across the globe? Was it just a place in time? And if you really stopped and thought about it - I mean <i>really thought hard</i>, was it something that you locked inside?; was it in the corner of your heart where you always hide?; was it real and blatant and hard and cold?; and was it only cold because it used to burn so bright?; and how bright did it burn?; how bright <i>did it burn?</i> ... This is where the light is shed on the little fine lines and the doomed debatable boundaries that direct the flow of our daily lives, our fates, and all our pasts - for good or ill - and perhaps both good and ill are open to interpretation here ... Go nuts, if you've got the 'eye of the beholder'. Throw nuts if you're the one being beheld ...
Oh, nuts.
...

Though it's nice to simply paint with beautiful words;
it's nicer still to paint beautifully with simple words.

We're gonna name our son Broncolton and our daughter Chugatha. Yes.

I have a gram of weed of the "Jack Herer" strain in the blue thing in the DB ... An eighth of a "Jack Frost" strain in the green thing, also in the DB ... 11 Focalin caps left, 4 of which are in the DB; including a line or two of powder in the crusher ... half a box of Sunset Blush ... 4 cups of coffee still in the pot ... precisely one billion Hydroxyzine 50-meggers, give or take a few; some of which are in the DB ... a night or two worth of Benny ... one half-full Amyl bottle ... a little baggie of black-level Salvia (not for the faint of heart) ...

Text Convo with Jen:
Me: It's been a decade since American Idiot came out.
Jen: Holy shit, we should have a party. No but really, that's terrible, I feel ancient. Even crazier, your Green Day tenth anniversary is next year...
Me: Oh trust me, I know... I'm not gonna be all cliche and say it feels like that was yesterday, because that would be a lie. But it does feel like it was no more than five years ago. I can't believe it's double that. That's two and a half generations of high school since then! Do you know what that computes to in Degrassi-years?? Probably like 4 deaths, 8 abortions, 5 pervert teachers, 20 bi-curious experiences, and 10 bi-curious experiments resulting in a new gay character or two. It's ridic.
Jen: This is why you're the best person in the whole world.
Me: I feel like there are some other reasons too.

Facebook Convo with Kevin:
Me: Quick! There's no time to explain at all, so instead I'll just fill you in completely: The mail-man is missing. In an unrelated matter, there is currently a stolen mail-truck speeding down a highway in Mesa, heading your way. I am in it. It will be a few more minutes before I get there though, because I stopped to help an old lady cross the street while passing through that alien town in New Mexico, but it turned out just being a huge waste of time because the bitch stroked-out on me when we got to the other side. And then all because of that one little thing, I had to spend a ridiculous amount of time explaining to her family that her last words weren't anything more than barely audible curses at her cat who apparently "just isn't the same Snowball these days." Turns out, he isn't. The real Snowball died 6 years ago and the new Snowball is a loofa. Upon recieving that sad little information from her family, I instantly became relieved by the realization that this lady is no doubt "in a better place now" because, well, there's not really anywhere to go but up when you're living a life made of cat-sponges and strange-ass complaints about cat-sponges ... So make sure you're home. Don't bother with directions, my scary japanese friend happens to have something like 1 or 2 or 234 connections in the NSA, and he was able to track your address for me, right down to the exact room you sleep in, so no need to worry about that anymore. I had to hit the gas and bail from Texas today because of.. a reason.. So now I'm gonna need you to start digging a hole asap, about 6 feet deep, or 7 to be safe, and make arrangements for a wood-chipper to be brought in immediately. Pay in cash. Next, find a brick that we can tie to the wood-chipper when the time comes to dispose of it in the nearest ocean. Make sure the brick is a heavy one, otherwise it won't sink. And then we'd be stuck with a worthless brick on our hands, on top of a 2-ton wood-chipper that may or may not be splattered with blood at that point. Since you know the area, I'm putting you in charge of deciding which beach in Mesa we'll dump it at, because for some reason Google Maps isn't working right and I haven't been able to find any directions to a single beach in all of Arizona! I knew I should have gotten an iPhone... Anywho; preferably pick the beach with the least amount of Disney cruises departing tonight. This is not crucial to the plan, it's just due to the fact that I happen to owe Mickey Mouse some money from a while back, and I know he remembers it. I'm not saying that this has anything to do with my mail man who just went missing, but I'm also not saying it doesn't.. Picking up what I'm laying down, Abuela?? Also. How do you feel about bath salts?