my Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ima goin to hell For the record, nothing fills me with glee like reading the diaries on my buddy list. They are just cool people and reading about their lives gives me this lighthearted feeling inside. It's like watching a really good tv show but...you read instead of watch. Okay, so really, aside from following a plot line, it's really nothing like watching a really good tv show. Also, nothing fills me with ire like the stupid little cuntwad sitting beside me right now. Her name is Jessie and she's 4 years younger than me and I'm somewhat ashamed to admit in public that we are genetically related. I would like nothing more at this point than to push her off of somthing steep onto somthing pointy. Think gruesome death in cliffhanger. Only she's more butch and has more facial hair than the villain that died on the upwards pointing rocksickle. I think they're called stalactites, but I'm probably wrong. FYI she's a big cunt and I fucking hate her. She's a snotty little bitch who wasn't choked enough in her youth and as a result her venom filled tounge wags and says bitchy things at any given moment without provocation. I'd like to provoke her with a bat. I can't wait to get to Vancouver. Man oh man oh man. So I started my new (3rd) job on Saturday at this makeup artists studio in town working with this amazing makeup artist and her wicked team selling awe-inspiring makeup. Mother Teresa had her leppers, Bono has the World Bank (hopefully) and I have foundation. Oh, my noble, noble calling. My only concern is that being a makeup artist isn't going to stuimulate me intellectually in the way that I need so as to not get bored. Don't get me wrong, I love makeup, and I'm really fucking good (I don't say I'm really good at many things so I can say that I kick ass at makeup...not that it's hard. Properly trained chimps could do it...probably.) Anyways, Where was I? Oh yes, I'm good, but it's not an occupation that drives my soul... it's okay, I'll just say that my angle brush is jihad-bent on elimenating the uggos. Good grief hanging out with queens and fags has made me an awful person.
10:19 p.m. - 2005-03-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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