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examination station

the ceramics party i had was off chain. pretty much everyone painted something, and we all sat around a big long table and chatted away while we each woorked on our individual projects. i painted a bear wearing a tutu holding balloons. i think i'll give it to my next boyfriend.

oh and speaking of boyfriends, i dont have one. or a date. because they dont wanna paint ceramics with me and that just makes me wanna cry. sigh. i mean, sike. it doesn't make me wanna cry, just throw this ceramic bear across the room and say "i hate you bear and i dont even care!"

haha. no, not really. what i should have painted was a pig huge giant pussy right yr forehead. all pink and glistening after they glaze it with that toxic sticky spray. in fact, i bet you would like that and display it proudly for the world to see. because like, somewhere along the line it became acceptable for dudes to be scared but girls to be not.

like oh my god i'm so dissed because your heart is so so so so tender.
anyway, thank god there were no pussies at my party. can you imagine? dicks and pussies and assholes all peach-toned colors, sitting up on the shelf waiting to dry? ewww how gross and fucking stoops.

i'll have none of those at my parties. and whatever, sometimes i do wonder and yes i am conscience of this protective sheath i wear over my words, heart, walk, and talk but so? everyone's got a defense mechanism right? like maybe yours is "dude, relaaaax" or maybe like, "i dont care whatever", and lately i heard this one which really doesn't make for a very good defense at all: "i'm just a really private person."

oh the things we say to get out of saying the things we really mean.

i love these little codes i get to break. math aint always about the numbers i guess.

9:14 p.m. - 2004-10-12

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history - mystery