Thursday, 31st January 2002
Blue Balls and Snatching Cradles of Love…
Where to start, where to start..? Blue balls me thinks. I have them, blue balls that is, or rather an approximation thereof. And I am not talking metaphorically either. I have big, ginormous, painful swollen groin glands, so painful in fact, that I believe I have a grasp on the unfortunate no-lovin’ phenomena known to the male species as blue balls. That shit hurts like a mofo and I can tell you mannies, I feel bad for you. According to the veritable source of Complete and Utter Truth Beyond Truth aka the internet, I have either HIV, non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, Herpes or Cat Scratch Fever. I’m going with the latter because it makes me feel better about myself. Also, Nimbus bit a chunk out of my head the day before I got my blue balls and the symptoms match up, so Cat Scratch Fever it is…
On another completely unrelated note, Supergrub played again last night at Fire. ‘Twas a wondrous thing as always, even though the crowd was pretty crap and didn’t give anything back to the gentlemen that be. It must be hard to play with no energy being given back to you, what with life being a circle and all. Anyway, I have discovered that I have a terrible crush on Asher Smasher, the drummer. So terrible in fact, that I find myself going bright red when I talk to him without consuming enough beer. This isn’t particularly enlightening news in the sense that I never have been able to talk to mannies that I think are cute, the enlightening news is that Asher is only 18, (perhaps 19). I WANT TO ROB THE CRADLE OF LOVE. The incredibly sad thing, from my perspective, is that I am unable to be more Tracey about it all. Meaning, I should be more Womanly about things, but instead I find myself feeling like a cunty little gurl. COME TO ME ASHER, LEMME GIVE YOU SOME MAMMA LOVE. Umm, anyway, what I mean is that I have 8 or 9 years on this mannie and shouldn’t that mean I would be more seductive or something and lure him into the comfort of my jiggle bags? But no, I am mannie retarded and am loping behind the mannie bus with one leg shorter than the other, plastic bags over my shoes and the worst bowl haircut ever. *Sigh*, if only I could be more jiggle bag confident about myself…
Wednesday, 30th January 2002
Dead babies and washing machines…
Holy fuck! A hospital put a dead baby through an industrial hotwash.