July 9th, 2003

bucket!

Boy o Boy

Tonight, after Not Going to Santa Cruz due to excessive Death Guild drinking (I had a great time, it was beautiful, someone bit me, I drank jaeger with delightful young punks in the alleyway, it was my undoing) Joel came by with his DVD of Spike and Mike's Full Frontal, and told me that I was going to cut his hair. Eek. I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to do the job, and managed to cut a huge chunk of meat out of my left middle finger and bleed everywhere but in the end, I gave him a nice little rivethead shavey spikey thing, and i'm pretty pleased with how that whole thing went. We sort of snuggled up a little while watching the cartoons and it was really cozy and platonic and nice. Sometimes leaning on someone is just really reassuring even if. You know. He's a good egg.

Other things lately have been mildly disappointing and i'm leaving a lot out of my journal. What the hell kind of journal is this if I can't write out all my hideous demons? I just don't want to look bad. You know. With the bad decisions. Last night, for instance, was kooky. I had a great time talking to boys, talked a lot with mopmonster and yanked on rabbitron's braids and sniffed people. Goths and rivethead freaks smell really nice sometimes. I am so clearly hormonally driven. I should just go in to the forest and smear myself with mud and rut fervently for 3 months and come back to civilization once it's out of my system.

A gallant young man named Larry drove my drunk ass home last night and he and his friend Jon were both charming and amusing. Everyone was nice, and I was obnoxious with the Red Bull and Vodka. I'm not doing THAT again.