robert smith, creature of the night

last night robert not only made eye contact with me butt smiled at me. it was a transcendent and ethereal moment, and i think now i'm pregnant. which is fine of course. i just wish stevey were there to share the moment with me. butt holy shit dyke that was a good concert. i just wish i were smoking whatever the hell this one lady was. hijole de la chingado wey...

how do you wanna die?

my grandpa, grandpa blur when he was drunk and bly when he was sober--he was always drunk though, died on st patricks day in 1987 of a massive heart attack while defecating. so that's the way i've decided i want to die and by the time i'm 35. also i used to want to be buried with a virgin mary statue with her arms outstretched over my grave. butt in the left hand of the virgin would be a bucket with my cremated and cemented remains. i recently decided on a better way to be buried butt i can't bloody well remember right now.

i hate mormon dances as well. they make me more suicidal than binge drinking and aging transvestites on santa monica blvd in la that have horse faces. not a pretty sight.

i will punch you in the ovaries

i hate mormons. the dirty rat slag bastards. i hate utah, george bush, george bush, and shit like that. i hate cops with the heart and soul of a mexican lover. jess. can't come up with anything else right now. now i'm even cooler than i was before--thanks to stevey and betsy--cuz i'm blogging now dammit.