9.15.2003

Also...

These fucking cunts are using that fucking cutesy talking-to-doggie voice. No fucking jury would convict me...

Yo no quiero stupid models.

There is now a Chihuahua in my, already small apartment. Why? Well, one guess...because both cats died from malnutrition? Nope, they're both still here and sufficiently terrified of said Chihuahua. Because I finally snapped and killed the cats and this is the way the ditz twins are dealing with the grief? Nope, simple celled organisms such as moss, fungus and my roommates have neither the brain nor ability for emotional capacity. Then why, why is there a mother fucker Chihuahua in my, already small apartment? Well, I'll tell you why...because my stupid fucking roommates think that a DOG will be easier to take care of than TWO FUCKING CATS! And why am I not completely fine with the idea of sharing this already small apartment with two cats, two fucking morons AND a fucking Chihuahua? Quite simply because I've seen them mistreat, neglect and abuse their "precious little kitty wuckums" and can't wait 'til the first weekend these dumb cunts go away (Flouncy to fuck some Bolivian drug lord and his bastard children all over the country and the other to pine away in upstate New York or fucking Jersey about the bisexual mindfucker who used to fuck her silly and now wants to move on and how he's breaking her stupid fucking heart and not knowing it) and come back to find all three pets dead because...huh? What? We need to give these little hairy walking people food? And...what? Water? But I left an ashtray full of smoldering roaches for them to enjoy? How stupid can two cats and a Chihuahua get? Trust me, you filthy sluts, not nearly as stupid as you two.
Now you out there might be asking yourself, "Yo, Flouncy should be drawn and quartered...but why the hateration for the other one?" I'll tell ya...the reason I've come to hate this mopey druncunt (made that one myself) is because, besides the fact that she mopey 24 hours a day and drunk 7 nights a week (and was heard to say, IN EARNEST during her experimental 'week of sobriety' while smoking pot..."At least it's not alcohol!!") and promised to get professional help if her week without pissing it up didn't work (it didn't, she didn't)...she is a spineless jelly fish. Redundant? Yes. Clear how spineless she is? You betcha. You spend five minutes with this blade of grass and you can convince her, seriously CONVINCE her to believe ANYTHING. And since Flouncy is the stupid one and the other is the weak one...well I'm sure you can all see how bad of a combination weakness and stupidity is. I swear to Christ that I'm starting to understand why Hitler felt this "urge to purge" if you will. Maybe he roomed with a model and a weak-willed alcoholic and tried to start a culling of THEIR kind but then found that they had all died from natural selection so he was just going to maybe kill his roommates until one day, a Jewish art critic called him a fag and that set him off. I have a funny feeling though, that his model roommate asked her Jewish art critic friend to come over and take a look at her roommate's stuff...hence, it's the models' fault we had the Holocaust. Damn, yet another reason to hate this ball of hair and drugs and slurred speech.
And by the way, I do like the Chihuahua, but I don't like the idea that I will be the one responsible for it and that if I don't take care of the poor unprepared thing is going to die and that these dumb bitches won't clean it up because they're too busy smoking pot, snorting coke, fucking bisexuals, weeping, flouncing or just existing on that plane somewhere between the ashtrays that are scattered about my apartment and the dry shit on the ass of our new Chihuahua (named Karma).
Finally, I think they think the Chihuahua is already here to stay, so if any of you want a housetrained Chihuahua who actually doesn't yip and shake like an invalid, let me know so I can just give it to you one night when they're out getting pumped by scummy drug mules who need put their seed in something dirty.

9.11.2003

Bad fucking day.

It's only 11:14 here and it's already turning out to be a shitty day. If you haven't heard, both Johnny Cash and John Ritter are dead. I don't really give a shit about John Ritter because he was a bad actor (except for moments in "IT"), but Johnny Fucking Cash? DEAD?! That's bullshit! He's immortal! Fuck that shit! This isn't what Fridays are about. The only good that can come of this is if my flouncy-ass dipstick roommate kills herself in grief...or by accidentally falling off the roof...after I push her.

9.03.2003

Why can't this moment last forever...?

About two weeks ago, Flouncy McCunt left for some other country. She said she was returning last Thursday. When I got a call from my good roommate with the news that she wouldn't be returning 'til Sunday, it felt like my Birthday. And then, Sunday night when I got ANOTHER call letting me know that she'd be home on Thursday, I felt like Jesus (my Birthday and Christmas all at the same time) and now that it's Wednesday afternoon...I am in a definite funk at her (possible) arrival tomorrow. I suppose I could find out what flight she's on then keep calling bomb threats until she just gives up and stays wherever the fuck she is now. In her absence, the apartment has remained clean even after a 12 person party-type thing. Things have been rearranged and reorganized and, most importantly MAINTAINED...all just waiting for this dirty (in EVERY sense of the word) cunt to come back flouncing with coke and vapid stories about her and her vapid friends doing ALL SORTS of crazy drugs! Silly twat. She thinks that just because she survived cancer she can live out the rest of her days in a drug/booze/stupidity induced stupor. I know someone else who beat cancer and they aren't walking, talking barrels of toxic waste like this bitch wad. Is it because she's British? No, because I've never seen James Bond act this way. Jesus, didn't the British fucking INVENT decorum (the act of, not the word)?? If so, they should be informed just how stupid she is making that WHOLE ISLAND look. I recently had a dream where she was beautiful and completely unaddled by drugs or anything and I woke feeling sorry for her, but not any less hateful. Drugs don't approach people, people approach drugs. You don't just wake up a waste of skin and blood, it's a gradual process. As long as she doesn't talk to me ever again, I'll never mention her again. Fair enough? Good. Fucking limey cooze...