2007-01-16
1:42 p.m.
Yesterday at Ikea this little girl, about 3 years old, was throwing a tantrum in the toy section and her dad said �She�s freaking out because grandma said the N word again.� David and I were like wha�? Then we figured the N word must be No.
So, I have this recipe that calls for rapeseed oil. For reals! I have never heard of a rapeseed, have you? Rapeseed, rapeseed my friend. (to the tune of Rape Me) I need me a bottle of that just so I can see �rapeseed� in print.
I like these five stages of grief if you're Donald Trump:
1. Distract self by marrying a new trophy wife
2. Get mad, furiously comb hair for half an hour, fire some people
3. Suffer a crisis of faith; begin to wonder if maybe money isn't the key to happiness
4. Come to senses, have hot makeup sex with a big pile of money, fire some more people
5. Celebrate return to form by marrying a new trophy wife
The lady sitting beside me on the bus this morning was giving herself a breast exam. It�s snowy and icy and it took 3 hours to get here.
Ooh, the tone of this entry is starting to decline. I'll just say it, I�m having a really hard time dealing with all the crap happening in my family. I feel so heartbroken, my heart just aches. I feel like there is no one who understands it. It seems like there are all these happy bastards who sail through life like wide-eyed deer and hardly mention bad feelings they have. I can�t be around these people right now.
You can leave a comment, or you can think it in your head.
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