Ay ya ya ya ya

Once upon a time I wanted to pet Melany's hamster and the bastard latched onto my finger and I freaked and ripped my hand away...only for the thing to stay on my finger...then wind up on the floor. Kinda drop on the floor. Luckily it had a mini heart attack so it didn't go running anywhere (as in under my door where Tobie would have eaten it or in my room where it'd take milleniums to find the thing) and once it came back to functioning, I scooped it into the thing and now the two are plotting their revenge on me as we speak. Or I type. Whichever.

So. I just got off of work about two hours ago and I have to go back in at KB in seven-and-a-half hours. Yup. Working is fun. Especially at 6am. I remember Black Friday still being a little drunk going to work. I looked like a scuzzy cum guzzler, but what else is new? I was deathly tired after wiping up vomit all night and I didn't wear make up, so I looked like a nakey clown. That reminds me: Dave said that I was wearing more make up than usual today. What the hell is up with that? Am not. pfft.

I am swwweeeeeeeepy. I want a cuddling partner though. I'm gonna shower and sleep by my lonesome self in my big, comfy, cozy bed and smell awesome and feel awesome and be awesome. In other words, be FRAN. I want to cuddle though. Any takers? =(

I want to go running after work tomorrow. If the snow (which is currently falling) isn't too trecherous, I'll do some laps around the ol' neighborhood. I can wave to my neighbors and pretend like I know who they are; I can dodge the bullets as I pass the homes of the crazies and run quickly from the dogs that get loose every once and awhile. Oh, and I can't forget the kidnapping! That dreary corner down the street from my house that loses all concepts of space and time for a good four seconds? Yeah. The ninth dimension is where I'll disappear for twenty years and become trailer trash and come out four seconds later the same person with no one knowing the difference. The amazing thing about Patchogue, I've noticed, is that it will never get better, only worse. Everyone from Patchogue likes to live beyond their means or at least portray that they have a wad of cash. But driving around P-town, things get worse, not better. I see more shitty homes than pretty ones and when I think Patchogue is changing its ways, I realize I'm in Holtsville or Medford and it doesn't count anymore. And the people don't change at alllll. This was apparent while working today. I miss the true Long Island women that wear way too much eyeliner and cover-up and who scrunch or tease their hair and carry faux Coach bags.Their outfits? They range from tight 90's jeans and loose t-shirts to ugly spandex and "cute" sweaters (or is that just KB customers?). And the accent. Oy. No one knows that r's exist on Long Island. And a's aren't proper without an "aw" or "ay" twang added to them. "Get tha buttah"; "Ayfter we're done shoppin', we ah gonna get McDawnald's"; "Where is tha nearest dollah stawr?"

There are roughly four days until Christmas and I haven't started shopping yet. It's sad but I have no desire to; I have no ideas for anyone and, an even better excuse, I have no money to get things for people. I love Christmas because of the feelings that people get, but I never have enough money by the time it comes around. argh. I dont know what to get anyone and that sucks mucho. I also have no one to kiss underneath the mistletoe. Talk about an empty feeling. It's chillin inbetween my living room and dining room and it chants my name everytime I walk by: Frank, Frank, Frank. I want to burn it, but then I think that maybe something will happen where I can use it and get a kiss underneath it. I know my dad has probably grabbed my mom and planted one on her. Ew. Tobie has probably grabbed himself and licked his ass underneath it. I dont know what to do. I wont make out with either parent and I wont lick my own ass (nor can I)...what is a single gal to do?

Get a boyfriend. Ka-ching! Any takers? 0:)

I regress to the age of nine sometimes. Today I spit in Andrew's hair. I also tease mercifully and make pouty faces and do cutesy voices. To really play the part, I even dress like I'm nine and wear a training bra for old time's sake. The days of the ant hills, the specks of flesh with no fleshiness, the bee stings, the mosquito bites, etc. I wonder what it's gonna be like when I finally hit puberty...maybe I'll develop to AA and think XXX, AAA (not the car care) or perhaps...a B (not the letter grade). I think boobs are the inverse of how smart you are. In our society, an A grade is considered the best while D is failing. From what I've gathered, those with small boobs (who shall remain nameless) aren't that smart...like at all. As boobs get bigger (Coral, Britt, Jen) the intelligence sky rockets. They're all D's and oober smart. Well, I am not a complete ditz (A) or of average intelligence (B) and def not a genius (D or DD) but a healthy C. Yes, that's right C. I am a C. Got beef? No? Well, apparently I got just enough of it, fooooools so sink yo teef in. Suck my left tit.

Someone once told me that when I say nipple, it's funny. I can't help it. I think nipple is a funny word anyway. They're fun, but also funny to say. teehee.

I gotta shower. Stop holding a gun to my head and forcing me to write in the damned thing. I hope I'm keeping my distant audience captivated. If I'm not, please let me know so I can start talking shit behind all ya'll's backs, ya'll.

I will sleep for about four hours tonight. Foo-ey.

And someone just went into the bathroom, so hold the trigger up to my temple again, I'll write some more. About what though? I'm basically dry of cool, concentrated things to say. Actually that's not possible--I'm a Gemini.

And they left the bathroom. So shut up crazy gunman, I'm goin' to shower and smell like dainty flowers again. Blah to work.

Get outta my head.

Sweet dreams to my readers. <3