I need a hairball treatment

I feel like dry heaving until the hairball lodged in my personality comes hurtling out of me. It will be one satisfying squishing noise when it finally plops itself violently outside of my body.

This hairball will be made up of daydreams, fruitless ventures of goodwill and Disney philosophy about life.. all angrily twisted together with the juices malice and reality squeeze from a pulverized soul.

Trust me, it will be one of the ones to brag over.

My Really Smart Phone

Ijust now can journal because the phone figured it out. IT has been outsourced by Android. Omg I am not batting 100 at this hour. Few figuring out the meaning off the world like me network enough. Like I dothat. I'm not that social organism.

Minor Overdose of Fictional Reality(!)

I want a gold star, I know somebody carries them around.  Well, having your husband make a note of something, have 36 gallons of bubbling saltwater tank still test world peace AND answer one ad because it was there... (drum roll) and the Bonus being they have a reply!

I must be hocked up on goofballs.  Weeeee!

I feel personality combustion in the presence of agile people with language skills AND personality. Verbal joyrides rock!

(plus if they are over age 6, maybe I won't have to: Guess what!?)

Happiness is multi-syllable reciprocity.

Trickle Down Ferengi

Seeing is not believing.

Hearing is not seeing.

Believing is obviously not in the scope of things.

Money, sex or dredging... open for exploitation.

S.O.C.K.S. still Applies

More than a month later, I read my last journal entry and blearily thought to myself that I should just cut and paste it, because more or less, nothing has changed.

Maybe the socks part.  Es o si que es. It is what it is. 

What it is happens to be sad.

I miss my sister.

It is difficult to stay positive in the face of knowing for fact without a doubt the one who loved you most and made you feel special is dead.

And the the wolves circle my carcass waiting.

Howling they told me so.