the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
1.16.2005
Holy FUCKING HELL.
I've been bragging about the fact that my spring semester roommate hasn't moved in yet, so I virtually have my little shitty dorm bedroom all to myself to:
(1) clutter up with all of my stupid useless shit,
(2) come out of a suffocatingly steamy bathroom completely naked (would be nice if I could just remember to shut the damn blinds, especially since my windows face a HELL of a lot of other windows),
(3) rock out on my electric guitar at all hours of the night,
(4) eat my suitemates' food in the privacy of my own room (just kidding, YOUR FOOD IS GROSS, GUYS),
among countless other little perks.
But today I find myself feeling so completely alone in this big city that I wouldn't mind putting up with some female company (which I usually loathe), even that of a potentially Asian girl (which I almost always loathe), even if she didn't speak to me and just typed away on her computer completely ignoring me. (Bitch.)
It's not neccessarily the fact that I need someone to commiserate with (although that would be nice, too), it's just that the bare mattress and empty desk just seem to make it that much more salient that what felt like half of my entire being is now gone, lost, and I feel like there's nothing I can do to bring it back.
People have suggested to me that I go out partying or clubbing or bar hopping and pick up some doofuses, but once that special part of my life was taken away, it seems just a little bit useless to entertain some khaki-wearing undergraduate asshole wearing a party hat and a festive sweater for the sake of getting laid and having my teeth unsavorily licked.
I'm sitting on top of my 6 foot long stuffed dog named Sicky on the foot-end of my bed with my laptop hanging off the side of my desk, huddled in a nook that's formed by my desk/bookshelf and the wall because my modem cable is too short for me to take my constantly overheating laptop into bed with me (to cuddle with romantically) and my bony ass was hurting in my ergonomically incorrect dorm-issued rocking chair. I don't want to listen to any music because every song makes me sad, so the air conditioner that is set to "warm" (my heater is broken) is keeping me company, along with my completely empty mini-fridge that kicks in every now and then.
I don't know about you, but to me, this image screams "the makings of a crazy cat lady that always seems to smell like cat piss and scares the neighborhood children." I would be ten times as scary than imagined if my cat allergy kicked in, made hives come out all over my face and body, and caused my eyes to be swollen puffily shut.
I think this is how I'm destined to spend the rest of my life -- sitting around a half-unoccupied dorm room, reading "WEBLOGS" (how I hate that word) all day, surrounded by my useless shit, playing my banjo-sized electric guitar while I'm wet and naked, stuffing my fat, useless face full of pilfered ice cream with a stolen spoon and my favorite food of all time, microwaved frozen mixed vegetables.
I'd like to point out that my mini-fridge has little magnet words stuck on it, forming little inspirational messages such as "never a better time to kick a woman until now" and "people think she be the #1 butt master."
This is the worst fucking post I have ever written. And I hate you all. God fucking dammit. The cows have come home, the chicken crossed the road, and the fat lady (hi) has sung, so fuck you.
Who wants to be my friend? And by that I mean "who wants to push me in front of a speeding bus full of senior citizen tourists?" I can't promise that I won't drag you under with me, though. Sorry.
[Peek-a-Foo]