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I think I just heard my mom say something about a "cute mixing bowl."

I probably need to do my signature move-out-in-a-huff-and-move-back-in-after-two-months thing. I'm restless, I hate this town more than I have ever hated anything, and I need a job. cute MIXING bowl??!

Sigur Ros is finally coming back to town in September and it took me a few minutes to realize that I do not give a flying fuck. I find them so tedious these days, but I guess my musical taste is not to be taken seriously, as lately I've been singing along to Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" every damn day in the car.

tomorrow I finally get to pick up my May paycheck from work and may just find myself shaking my ass in a green miniskirt for an old man who's been lusting after me for a ridiculously long time.

if by "old" you mean "middle-aged" and "oozing sexuality." and if by "a ridiculously long time" you mean "one fucking goddamn not-cheating-on-his-wife YEAR."

I need a cold shower already.

yep, the problem with me trying to pin down my sexual orientation is that I'm just attracted to anyone with an interesting smirk and a dirty joke for every occasion. I don't care if you have boobies or testes or what have you. just raise one eyebrow at me and let's argue over crossword clues and definitions of irony.

let's. let's do.

the coelacanth is the fish of nightmares and I am absolutely enamored with it. I think I will get a coelacanth tattoo.