This Halloween I’m going to be a sexy kitten! I’m going to be a slutty nurse! A French Maid! I’m going to be a sexy nurse kitten! A Frenchy nurse sexmaid!
Because everyone knows: The only thing for girls to wear come Halloween is something slutty! (cue: idiot music.)
Earth to World: Stop talking about that. I mean it. I have had it. I have had it up to here. No, beyond here. Up to so far beyond here, that I can’t even represent it with my hand placed above my head. I would literally have to fire up a jetpack and then jump on a trampoline placed on top of the empire state building and then ignite a boost in my jetpack with my hands stretched as far above my head as I could reach to physically represent the “here” to which I have had it up.
“But we can’t stop talking about things like that!” the world cries in unison. “People need something trivial to talk about. If you want to take something away, take away something real, like Karl Rove or the darkness that threatens to cast its oily cloak over our eyes and our lives, don’t just ruin our small talk! Halloween sluttiness is gold! It makes you really feel like you have a connection to all the cold strangers with whom we share our complacent existence! Take that away and all we have to talk about is the rainy month we’ve had!”
Next person who starts on this topic while I’m in earshot is going to receive an invoice from me, demanding compensation for precious seconds of life lost, and for what? Nothing, that’s what for.
Me, on the other hand, I’m going to be a slutty kitty, but a boy kitty. It’ll be like, the opposite of what everyone will expect! And my girlfriend is going to go as a Fireman! Who wants to be my girlfriend?!
Dear Diary,
RODNEY PEIFFER IS A JERK A GODDAMNED JERK AND I DONT EVEN CARE THAT I'M TAKING THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN RIGHT NOW, I AM REALLY GOD-GOD-GOD DAMNED PISSED AND MAD AND FURIOUS. >:0
Oh great. Oh just wonderfully great. After I wrote that first part I was to mad to stand still so I kicked a hole in the door. Oh, damnit. (See, God? I'm back to not taking your name in vain, so I hope you forgive me for doing it before -- I kind of want to erase it, but a Diary's a Diary, and leaving it in there doesn't make me proud of it or anything.) Now what's going to happen when Mom gets home? Probably nothing, when I tell her what happened.
Rodney wouldn't stop hitting me on the head in art class. He was acting like he was joking but I tried to get him to stop and he wouldn't and then I just got shaky and I felt hot like I was trapped and it was all his fault, like that he had a grip on me from all sides, with the hitting and the laughing, there was nothing I could do because he is bigger than me and he wasn't listening to a word I said! ALL I HAVE EVER BEEN IS NICE TO RODNEY. HE'S FAT AND UGLY AND I WAS NICE TO HIM AND I DONT KNOW WHY HE WONT BE NICE TO ME. WHY IS NO ONE EVER NICE TO ME? EVERYBODY PICK ON JEREMIAH, HE'S LITTLE AND DOESNT FIGHT BACK! HURRAH!!! GOD-GOD-GOD-GOD-DAMN IT!!
I'm sorry God. I love you God.
I hate you God.
I love you God.
I hate you God.
I love you God.
I hate you God.
I love you God.
I hate you God.
DAMNIT, stop, I'm inserting a break, that's it, it's over, I love you God and that's Final.
I hate you God.
I love you God and that's it. That's all.
I hate you God.
I love you God, the end, on off off on.
I hateI love you God. I LOVE YOU GOD.
I hate you God I hate you God.
SOMETHING ELSE. I love you God. SOMETHING ELSE NOW. I hate you God. I love you God start over start over do don't do don't on off off on.
Josh is having a Halloween party and I actually got invited! :-D That makes me really happy because I LOVE Halloween and I don't think I've ever been invited to a Halloween Party before. Not since I was really little and we touched things like eyeballs and brains, only they were actually food but they feel like gross things in the dark. I wonder if we'll do that at Josh's party tonight? Or maybe that's a kids thing. Sometimes I feel so dumb but how can you know what goes on at a party when you don't get invited to them? :-/
Josh is a nice guy, though. He's a little too cool I think for us to ever really be friends, but he's nice to me. I don't know if he would have stopped Rodney RODNEY from hitting me on the head, but he invited me to his party, so that's a start. What I really need is someone who likes me enough to get that jerk to not hit me on the head. Oh well. I'm kind of worn out. I'm gonna download the MONSTER MASH! Then I can play it real loud and just kind of dance around and let it all out! :P
RODNEY PEIFFER IS A JERK A GODDAMNED JERK AND I DONT EVEN CARE THAT I'M TAKING THE LORD'S NAME IN VAIN RIGHT NOW, I AM REALLY GOD-GOD-GOD DAMNED PISSED AND MAD AND FURIOUS. >:0
Oh great. Oh just wonderfully great. After I wrote that first part I was to mad to stand still so I kicked a hole in the door. Oh, damnit. (See, God? I'm back to not taking your name in vain, so I hope you forgive me for doing it before -- I kind of want to erase it, but a Diary's a Diary, and leaving it in there doesn't make me proud of it or anything.) Now what's going to happen when Mom gets home? Probably nothing, when I tell her what happened.
Rodney wouldn't stop hitting me on the head in art class. He was acting like he was joking but I tried to get him to stop and he wouldn't and then I just got shaky and I felt hot like I was trapped and it was all his fault, like that he had a grip on me from all sides, with the hitting and the laughing, there was nothing I could do because he is bigger than me and he wasn't listening to a word I said! ALL I HAVE EVER BEEN IS NICE TO RODNEY. HE'S FAT AND UGLY AND I WAS NICE TO HIM AND I DONT KNOW WHY HE WONT BE NICE TO ME. WHY IS NO ONE EVER NICE TO ME? EVERYBODY PICK ON JEREMIAH, HE'S LITTLE AND DOESNT FIGHT BACK! HURRAH!!! GOD-GOD-GOD-GOD-DAMN IT!!
I'm sorry God. I love you God.
I hate you God.
I love you God.
I hate you God.
I love you God.
I hate you God.
I love you God.
I hate you God.
DAMNIT, stop, I'm inserting a break, that's it, it's over, I love you God and that's Final.
I hate you God.
I love you God and that's it. That's all.
I hate you God.
I love you God, the end, on off off on.
I hateI love you God. I LOVE YOU GOD.
I hate you God I hate you God.
SOMETHING ELSE. I love you God. SOMETHING ELSE NOW. I hate you God. I love you God start over start over do don't do don't on off off on.
Josh is having a Halloween party and I actually got invited! :-D That makes me really happy because I LOVE Halloween and I don't think I've ever been invited to a Halloween Party before. Not since I was really little and we touched things like eyeballs and brains, only they were actually food but they feel like gross things in the dark. I wonder if we'll do that at Josh's party tonight? Or maybe that's a kids thing. Sometimes I feel so dumb but how can you know what goes on at a party when you don't get invited to them? :-/
Josh is a nice guy, though. He's a little too cool I think for us to ever really be friends, but he's nice to me. I don't know if he would have stopped Rodney RODNEY from hitting me on the head, but he invited me to his party, so that's a start. What I really need is someone who likes me enough to get that jerk to not hit me on the head. Oh well. I'm kind of worn out. I'm gonna download the MONSTER MASH! Then I can play it real loud and just kind of dance around and let it all out! :P
Dear Diary,
S'up y'all? Dis Jeremiah in da hizzow!
Hehe I'm just kiddin'! That's not how I really talk! I wish! Maybe more people would want to be my friend if I talked like I was cool. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to make bein' me cool. Maybe one of these days I'll figure it out! :P
Speaking of being cool, I got a skateboard!!! I know I don't know how to skate but how hard could it be? I thought it would be fun and also a good opportunity to make some friends. I could use a friend or two.
Dan isn't my friend anymore as of last week. I was doodling a wiener on my desk and he saw it and called me gay and now everyone calls me gay. But I wasn't doodling a wiener because I like wieners, I was doing it just to be joking around!!! Oh well. It's hard to explain yourself sometimes. :(
It gets pretty lonely when your best friends are your online buddies and you're diary (not that I don't like you, diary, of course I do, it's just that I wish real people wanted to talk to me and be around me. *sighs*) Maybe when the dudes see me shreddin' on my brand new board, with my kickin' helmet and other safety gear, they'll think I got it goin' on!
It'll be sick!!!!
Until next time, I be blingin! Or whatever, I don't know, I'm just clowning around! Maybe some day I'll make my living being silly. I certainly hope so. I'm such a weirdo, I don't know if I could do anything that didn't require a little goofiness! %P (Is that even a face? I don't know, but the eyes were googly so I thought I would use it!!!) Bye Diary! Love you!!!
~J
I like signin' my name with just my initial!! When other people do it, I always think there mysterious! It doesn't seem mysterious when I do it, though. At least not to me it doesn't. No matter what I do, I always know I'm me. :(
S'up y'all? Dis Jeremiah in da hizzow!
Hehe I'm just kiddin'! That's not how I really talk! I wish! Maybe more people would want to be my friend if I talked like I was cool. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to make bein' me cool. Maybe one of these days I'll figure it out! :P
Speaking of being cool, I got a skateboard!!! I know I don't know how to skate but how hard could it be? I thought it would be fun and also a good opportunity to make some friends. I could use a friend or two.
Dan isn't my friend anymore as of last week. I was doodling a wiener on my desk and he saw it and called me gay and now everyone calls me gay. But I wasn't doodling a wiener because I like wieners, I was doing it just to be joking around!!! Oh well. It's hard to explain yourself sometimes. :(
It gets pretty lonely when your best friends are your online buddies and you're diary (not that I don't like you, diary, of course I do, it's just that I wish real people wanted to talk to me and be around me. *sighs*) Maybe when the dudes see me shreddin' on my brand new board, with my kickin' helmet and other safety gear, they'll think I got it goin' on!
It'll be sick!!!!
Until next time, I be blingin! Or whatever, I don't know, I'm just clowning around! Maybe some day I'll make my living being silly. I certainly hope so. I'm such a weirdo, I don't know if I could do anything that didn't require a little goofiness! %P (Is that even a face? I don't know, but the eyes were googly so I thought I would use it!!!) Bye Diary! Love you!!!
~J
I like signin' my name with just my initial!! When other people do it, I always think there mysterious! It doesn't seem mysterious when I do it, though. At least not to me it doesn't. No matter what I do, I always know I'm me. :(
!!!
I immediately recognize this as Very Bad News because I can feel where the thing bonked – it’s near the top of the can, but I can also feel a counterbalancing weight on the opposite side of the bottom of the can. Whatever it is, it’s standing on the bottom, leaning against the top, and, judging by the sound of the bonk, it is both rigid and meaty. Witness, ye Gods and Demons, it bonked.
My stomach seizes, poised to reject all, clear the way, everything must go. I hold back for visual confirmation, identification, despite panicked imaginings of insidious microorganisms running wild in the murky cesspool that I am heroically and illogically keeping down. I steel myself to look into the can, knowing this is not going to end well, feeling the overproduction of saliva now, swallowing, swallowing, in a last-ditch effort to quell the rising tide.
I look into the can. It’s never particularly easy to see into a can of coke unless you have a flashlight, and there haven’t been many times when I’ve found myself with a flashlight in one hand and a coke in the other at the precise moment when I would have really liked to see inside the can. The time has come. I have no flashlight.
The light from around me, above me, is enough to cast a glow into the very top of the can, illuminating the curve of a feathered head, the oily feathers glistening, and one black eye staring lifelessly yet with a malicious little sparkle collected from the glow in the can. The sparkle hypnotizes me, the world’s all a-spiral, it cackles and begs and screams and dies so dead, and that sparkle pierces me slick, straight to the heart, turns my heart to muck, my brain to slime, and my stomach, forced to assume control amidst the breakdown of my decomposing higher processes, decides to vacate all contents of my entire premises, and I come to, clenching eyes and retching, my vision branded by, sizzling from the head of the bird in the can, the eye, the sparkle in its hideous eye, and a slope of black feathers, I liquefy and drizzle down upon the corpse, joining the stew, the putrid marinade.
And do I shed a tear in the midst of all my bio-collapse? I do. More than one.
After that I reflect weakly upon how I might go about suing Coke and whether or not I would be believed – what methods they might use to test the validity of my claim (and how sheisty it would be if and when they proved it false) but the point of the fantasy has come and gone. I’m thoroughly disgusted, sufficiently catharted, and one step closer to knowing what it would really feel like to find a baby bird in my Coke.
"Scabies?"
"Yeah. What?"
"You have scabies?"
"Yes, but not like scabies."
...
...
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"Just that the circumstances under which I got the scabies is exceptional."
"So you're not, like, a filthy person or anything?"
"That's not how you get scabies."
"Yes, I'll admit that I don't know anything about scabies."
"You should educate yourself."
"No thanks."
"Seriously, scabies is found commonly in all parts of the world."
"I bet."
"And you get it through prolonged human contact."
"So how did you get it?"
"A witch put a hex on me."
"That's not true."
"I'm afraid it is."
"There's no such thing as a hex."
"Then where did my scabies come from?"
"Prolonged human contact?"
"Oh, look at you, the scabies expert all of a sudden."
"Did you consider practical theories before you brought the occult into it?"
"That's the thing - you can't consider practical theories when witches are involved. They use magic which is fundamentally impractical."
"That's not right. Magic isn't impractical. It defies logic and reality, but it's actually extremely practical."
"That's witch-talk."
"No, that's observational commentary."
"I still don't know who put the hex on me, you know."
"That is indeed a surprise."
"There are a number of people I suspect, however."
"You don't know any witches."
"You don't know any."
"No, I know."
"I know too many witches. I know so many witches I'm like - when am I going to spend time with someone who isn't a witch, you know?"
"I have to go somewhere else."
"There are covens in each borough, you know."
"You are not a witch."
"Maybe I am."
"You're definitely not."
"Why can't I be a witch?"
"I don't know, but you're not."
"No, I'm not a witch but I attend the meetings incognito."
"Why?"
"Lonely."
"Have you made enemies at these meetings?"
"No, but you never know what they know. Magic can see into your head. They might know I'm a fraud and have begun to exact their itching and burning revenge."
"What are the meetings like?"
"I'm forbidden to disclose."
"Tell me."
"I'm serious. Magic is watching."
"Magic is not watching! You have scabies because you are grimy!
"Then how do you explain the staph infection below my right temple or my chronic athlete's foot or the other louses that have taken root wherever hair occupies the landscape of my witch-cursed body?"
"You're a filthy, disgusting bastard."
"Well, no point in getting hygienic now, what with all these hexes on me. Best to let them run their course."
"I have to leave now."
"Why?"
"I'm not going to explain, I don't have to explain, this is just the worst date I have ever been on."
"Blind date."
"Goodbye. Forever."
"I still have time to make it to Midtown. Nightshade wants to demonstrate her chiggers hex. Maybe they'll use someone else this time. I really hope they do."
"Yeah. What?"
"You have scabies?"
"Yes, but not like scabies."
...
...
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"Just that the circumstances under which I got the scabies is exceptional."
"So you're not, like, a filthy person or anything?"
"That's not how you get scabies."
"Yes, I'll admit that I don't know anything about scabies."
"You should educate yourself."
"No thanks."
"Seriously, scabies is found commonly in all parts of the world."
"I bet."
"And you get it through prolonged human contact."
"So how did you get it?"
"A witch put a hex on me."
"That's not true."
"I'm afraid it is."
"There's no such thing as a hex."
"Then where did my scabies come from?"
"Prolonged human contact?"
"Oh, look at you, the scabies expert all of a sudden."
"Did you consider practical theories before you brought the occult into it?"
"That's the thing - you can't consider practical theories when witches are involved. They use magic which is fundamentally impractical."
"That's not right. Magic isn't impractical. It defies logic and reality, but it's actually extremely practical."
"That's witch-talk."
"No, that's observational commentary."
"I still don't know who put the hex on me, you know."
"That is indeed a surprise."
"There are a number of people I suspect, however."
"You don't know any witches."
"You don't know any."
"No, I know."
"I know too many witches. I know so many witches I'm like - when am I going to spend time with someone who isn't a witch, you know?"
"I have to go somewhere else."
"There are covens in each borough, you know."
"You are not a witch."
"Maybe I am."
"You're definitely not."
"Why can't I be a witch?"
"I don't know, but you're not."
"No, I'm not a witch but I attend the meetings incognito."
"Why?"
"Lonely."
"Have you made enemies at these meetings?"
"No, but you never know what they know. Magic can see into your head. They might know I'm a fraud and have begun to exact their itching and burning revenge."
"What are the meetings like?"
"I'm forbidden to disclose."
"Tell me."
"I'm serious. Magic is watching."
"Magic is not watching! You have scabies because you are grimy!
"Then how do you explain the staph infection below my right temple or my chronic athlete's foot or the other louses that have taken root wherever hair occupies the landscape of my witch-cursed body?"
"You're a filthy, disgusting bastard."
"Well, no point in getting hygienic now, what with all these hexes on me. Best to let them run their course."
"I have to leave now."
"Why?"
"I'm not going to explain, I don't have to explain, this is just the worst date I have ever been on."
"Blind date."
"Goodbye. Forever."
"I still have time to make it to Midtown. Nightshade wants to demonstrate her chiggers hex. Maybe they'll use someone else this time. I really hope they do."
