scenes from a shower...

and, sadly, no they're not THAT kind of scene.

aw fuck.

started out with a decent post and this god dman fucking piece of shit mouse of mine made me exit out of the program and it always politely asks if i'd like to save this post before exiting, and i stupidly push "ok" every time, hoping against fucking hope that it'll actually save. it doesn't. hell no. why would it do that? that would be just so beyond meeting my expectation that i'd die of shock. the fucking pathetic ridiculous part of it is that all of these little half posts i've lost the same way are probably all hanging out in some strange (or even not so strange) little directory together. just munching on chips, smoking a marlboro, waiting for me to come get them, waiting for their cue. their day in the sun. their moment to shine. and i never come. god, they must be getting so lonely, and tired and their fingers must be all greasy from the chips and tar stained and the ashtrays are probably all full and what if they run out of smokes and--lord have mercy--what if the mother fucking dip runs out and---

fuck me.

no, not you.

but jesus.

um.

not him either.

dammit.

do you know who i miss?

beavis and butthead.

does this make me sick, or strange or pathetic or trashy or...?

i don't care.

i hope it means i'm all those things....cuz then i'd have something to blame. (sorry i'm so _____, it's just i love beavis and butthead. yeah, i know. i used to be normal, but ever since those big headed, shorts wearing idiots walked into my life, i've sort of fallen on hard times, personality-wise at least.)

good lord.

i'm on fire.

and i don't mean my writing, i mean, fu-uuuck, would someon please dump some water on me cuz i'm too tired to stop drop and roll.......

okay, so i'm probably a bit doped up. but so what.

i deserve a good high now and then.