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so chris walks out of the bathroom. he looks at me with his hair a mess... he hasn't shaved in over a week and is wearing a homestar runner tshirt and a pair of jeans. and a black hat. he states: "i look like a strung out junkie" i look back at him. i nod. i reply: "you really do." he takes off the cap... and throws it at me. it hits me directly in my left eye. it starts tearing. i'm not crying... but the bill of a hat just hit me in the eye. not the eyelid... the eye. inside. the white gooey part. perhaps the only fight of evAr in which both parties agreed on the matter at hand... and still one walks out with a black eye. it's getting more swollen by the minute.

holy fucking balls.

it's rediculous... i have been drinking since two o clock... apparently i can't deal with my life if not under the influence. o well... atarah = mobile. aim: strawberregashes cause i am a lamer. play with me?

fucking girly girls...

so i wake up this morning in a good mood. i'm a little late... but that's kind of an everyday thing. so i don't get to go into work with the inlaw... o well. i'll ride in with the sister. and i'm off. we head out from red bank and decide to stop at the local wawa whre there are about a million and four... how do i say this... "painters" for hire. by painters i mean mexicans. but... i feel bad for calling them that... anyway... we get out of the car. ashley looking all super hot as per usual... me looking like your standard twenty one year old punker girl. we walk into the door... or... up to... and of course the old man walking out opens it for us... next step? walk in... as he walks out... and makes sure to take a hella long stare at ashes ass. not that you can't look at the womans ass. actually... i sometimes think it stares at you... it's HUGE... for a white girl at least. so we proceed to the next door... coast is clear... until another guy rushes in through the first to make sure that ashley doesn't have to touch either door. honestly people... she's a girl... yes... but she's not a goddess. so this gets me thinking... and i continue thinking... and i have decided that i am rather happy being the standard little punker girl with holes in her face and tshirts from old halloween costumes. i'm ok with looking like i just got out of bed. i'm cool with just being regular. and now i wonder... why is it that girls strive to look perfect? what is it that makes them think they have to slap a makeup factory on their face(s) before they leave the house? is it the attention? cause i guarantee i get just as much... and i am a lazy little cunt... ninety percent of the time i don't even bother brushing my hair in the morning... but people still happen to yell eggplant out the window at me... i need answers... what is it?
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