Tuesday, January 31, 2006


Been listening to Babes in Toyland (I almost wrote Banes in Toyland!!) a lot lately. My favorite verse: "My name is Gretel yeah, I've got a crotch that talks, it talks to all the cocks, it's been twelve city blocks you fucking bitch!" It makes me want to dig my guitar out and find the plug to my amp so I can D-tune and play some horrible metal chords. Alone. Kathleen and I were thisclose to forming a band called The Living Doll Disaster. Gaywads. We wrote one song and decided getting shitty and playing with boys was totally more fun, man.

I haven't been eating lately. I announce that to prevent myself from regressing back to Skeletor. I've recently had to force myself to eat. Does not bode well. I've already warned my sister and she got right on the case, astutely prescribing Valium to me over the telephone. Thanks, Addie. I'll get over it. My love affair with cupcakes and fine cheeses can't be over. We've only just met, I feel.

Why doesn't anyone say "Big whoop" anymore? That was like the harshest thing we could say to each other when we were growing up. Brother: "Look at this really accurate drawing of a pickle I just did." Me: "Big whoop." Brother shuffles back to room, head down. Me: (triumphant) "Yes!"

Everything is really vivid for me right now. Must be my strict adrenaline-only diet.

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