booyah, bitches.

deary, deary me. i've become a hopeless fan not of Ledger!Joker but of black coffee of late. i'm trying to catch up to the euphoria of my mother on her opiates. i'm speeding on the way to nowhere safe really quickly as i puff at a Marlboro Light every now and then. i hid the pack from myself in a bag of useless kitty litter. i don't like that i even know how to smoke, let alone have detectable desire to do such

yuck. i'm gonna stop it. well how about this? once i grow the fuck up and start making some productive big-girl decisions that don't equal up to health concerns in my life, i'll then reconsider whether or not i want to be a smoker.

i should be smoke-free for a loooong time, dontcha think?

hmmm. i'm still feeling a bit spunky despite the overbearing number of reasons that could easily force me into a more contrary humor. must be all of the black coffee, no sugar, no creme. and what am i going to do with this spunkiness? i ask myself, and i am mentally imagining another being asking me also, so i'll go ahead and answer that question--all sorts of shit.

i'm gonna help out T and her overdrmamtic approach to a pathetic-ass situation dillema. i'm going to style my hair and maybe dye it a little lighter. be on the lookout for light brown tinted beehives and lotsa eyeliner to match. i'm gonna whittle down my waist. i'm eva's height, and now i'm going to be even her impossible weight. i don't have far [if anywhere] to go. i'm gonna be fucking fabulous and there is nothing you can do about it.