over the course of about three days, people have told me so many things that deal with their personal issues that my brain hurts, and is on the verge of turning to mush.
Wishing to become one of the following: a stand-up comic, a pirate, the love of someone's life, a wizard, an international spy or ninja, Lara Croft (minus the humongozoid boobs), or the frontperson of a band. Currently, working to pay off huge amounts of debt due to a little thing I refer to as "Satan's Shenanagins," but conventional theory would simply refer to it as "Graduate School." My expertise lies in thinking way too much, laughing, being celibate, acting like a nutter, and saying things that somehow elicit one of two responses: "You're so funny!" or "Whattha??! Huh?" Basically, my expertise lies in anything that ultimately results in my feeling alienated from the human race (C.F. an inferiority complex). As with the grand tradition of obnoxious personal weblogs, I too am offering you a taste of my bad poetry, prose, and other random snippets.
1 comment:
keep on truckin girl:)
-robbie poo-
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