Rambling that starts with the topic of "Oldness"

You know what, I've been thinking about how old I am and it's scary. Since my 22nd year of being on the planet, I've hated birthday's. I mean, after 21 there is not one God damned thing to look forward to, except maybe renting a car at 25 and now you can do that underage, you just have to pay more money! I mean, fuck! Life is just a fast track to Alzheimer's after 21. I hate my life. I'm turning 25 in a few months and that is a freakin' quarter of a century. It might as well be 50. I have no boyfriend, I have no job, soon I won't have a place to live and I'm really thinking my friends will remember how boring I was when I return to the States. That's my most terrifying thought: that my friends will have missed me all this time I've been gone, come to find out that when I'm back, I wasn't really that good of a friend (I never listen) or that much fun (because after 12 drinks I just become a waste to everyone and just a plain, old burden to those lucky enough who are responsible for my well bring), or EVEN WORSE, I wasn't that funny. That is honestly my worst fear in life (after paper cuts on my eye ball, and pigeons and rats oh and crushed velvet. Man, do I have a lot of fears!) but I'm so scared someone will think I'm not funny. People could tell me I'm fat, because that's true, or a bad dresser, because we all know that's not true or ugly because that's kind of true, but someone telling me I'm not funny, that has just crossed the fucking line partner! Also, sorry for the over-usage of commas, but I've always had a problem adding too many commas into sentences since grammar school. Like I think having more is better then forgetting to add them in. Whateves. Oh also, I used to add an "e" to the end of every word. Like I would add an "e" to party, so it would be spelled "partye". I guess this really could have worked for me if I lived in the 10th century and we spoke Ye Olde English. Wow, was that a rant. I barely know where or why I started.

Oh, ya so I'm getting old. There's that. Also, I'm broke. Broke out of my mind, but I guess that's what happens when you don't have an income for 6 months and you have an addictive/obsessive personality and high tolerance to alcohol, drugs and dairy products. This makes things expensive when you're ready for get wasted on cider and you drink chocolate milk intravenously by the gallon. Things get expensive & scary. Never ever piss off a drunk girl who is high on the chocolate milk (or "mud" as I call it on the streets). It can get violent and messy, with all that chocolate milk and brie.....yikes. Damn, brie is good. I could really used some warm brie with cranberry sauce on it smeared onto a water cracker. Sounds like heaven to me. That and a never-ending fountain of Strong-b. That would be sick-ass awesome!

Well everyone, sorry for the let downs when you check this here blog religiously everyday and you get nothing new for a while. I'm pretty fucking busy okay, and probably sober, so there's two reasons why I wouldn't be posting.

love you all!

P.S. I still haven't found Ed....stupid bastard must have missed my e-mail about meeting in London. I bet he's still waiting in NYC for me....and you think technology would help this problem...sheesch.

Nelly

OMG, today was a big day. I saw my first pair of Apple Bottom Jeans on a real live lady. It was fabulous. If you know me, you know I don't use the word fabulous, but these were. I NEED to get myself a pair of Apple Bottom Jeans....
I just really think they would make my life so much better. This girls jeans had a gold plaque with the emblem on them and then gold chains hanging off the top of the back pockets. I mean, what could be better in life?! Not much, I can tell you that for sure!

Random, Random Thoughts

First, I've downloaded the UK's top 40 songs since I need to know what the cool songs are here in London. I don't have a car and that was where I would listen to the radio and learn about the new songs. Now I just have to illegally download them on Limewire. Because of this, I've learned about a ton of new artists and new songs. They are mostly some type of techno song, but I've really become accustomed to them, and I've really started to enjoy them.

Secondly, me and my mother drink. If you've read this blog, or know anything about me, you know that I can drink. I can drink with the best of them, like up there with the Russians. My mom always has a couple glasses of wine each night. Around 5pm, sometimes earlier, we start pouring drinks. My dad doesn't get home until 7pm or later and he never drinks. So it's just me and my mom drinking, every night. Occasionally my dad does drink, like tonight. His drink of choice is scotch on the rocks or Guinness. Tonight my dad had two scotch on the rocks, which is almost unheard of! Tonight, I also learned that my dad is a light weight. It was a sad night. I suspected this before, but tonight it was confirmed. I mean, I think I'd rather hear my dad was doing coke or had a second family, but no, God had to curse me with a light weight father. He got all giggly and playful like a fucking middle schooler drinking Smirnoff Ice. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life and I was at home with my parents. Not that I even want to attempt giving my dad a good reason for being a light weight, but apparently we have some "alcoholics" in our family history. If you ask me, that's a fucking lie. Or my second opinion would be that that just makes us awesome, but that's neither here nor there. My dad doesn't drink because he's afraid of becoming an alcoholic like some other people in our family....ex. ME! I mean shit, HE'S worried about becoming an alcoholic, why don't you take a look at your offspring. She has become an upstanding, participatory and generous person of the community, the alcoholic community is what I'm talking about. He thinks that two scotch's are going to put him over the edge into alcoholism, while his daughter is out there binge drinking (because that's the only way to drink) until she can't remember who she saw out that night, let alone how the fuck she got home. Okay, this is enough about the drinking problems in my family.

Thirdly on the random topic post, well I really don't have a thirdly, but I'm dying for a cigarette. My parents are almost asleep and I'm just waiting for the moment when I hear the two heavy snors and then I'll pop outside for my night cap ciggy. Strong-b and ciggs are a match made in heaven and who am I to keep the two angels apart from each other?!?!

Oh and nextly for all those illeterait readers out there, here's a pic for you from the British Museum of pimp cups.

You're welcome.

Also to all my pimps in Dallas, I miss y'all. You know who you are, so I don't even have to say, but just in case here are the first letters of each of your names....I love you R, C, D, K, F & C!!!!

E-mail me if you're not sure if that's your initial. Actually, if you're not sure if it's your initial, don't ask because it's not your fucking initial.

Good night and God speed!