the only thing i can think of saying.

saturday night was…weird. to put it lightly.

we ventured to the fagclub. my dress was almost too short and i spent the evening avoiding any and all serious conversation. i ended up getting really jealous over something silly for about five minutes. weird because a. jealous usually isn’t in my vocabulary and b. i don’t have any place. lameshit. so, then i slapped myself and sat outside with m.p., talking to this girl who wore cowboy boots and looked like bjork. we argued about what made a shirt “western” as opposed to a blouse. i think i lost. she had a tape recorder in her purse and i’m pretty sure she was on enough drugs to last a lifetime. i wanted to be her friend, because i’ve got a love for crazy girls. like no other.

i got eyed like a two-dollar sandwich by some creepy man while we were on an adventure to the store. then i got groped by a girl in an ugly hat. i stood on the corner with the drag queens and lit their cigarettes for them, watching the wind blow their wigs and talking about how the whole foods market downtown doesn’t sell a certain kind of avocado. then we talked about eating disorders and i made a terrible joke about anorexia being way more attractive. turns out, i was right.
the highlight of the evening was sitting outside with m.p. and the rue and coining phrases like “the raging uteroceratops” and “sassysaurus rex.”
on the way home, we ate greasy mexican food. nothing better than a three dollar kids meal at four a.m., for seriousness.

now is time for studying. finals kick my ass, but only in that way that i don’t get enough sleep. i’m ready for this term to be over like whitney houston is ready to go to rehab.