ticket stub
mom1
mom2
pretty!
bitch!
friday, 12/28/01
well, i'm in the airport again. it's prolly around 9 pm & i won't arrive in chicago 'til 10:01 am.

13 hours.

perfect







i got through security without a hitch. i didn't even set off the metal detector. they'll probably get me with the "random" security check.




i'm sad to be leaving, mostly cuz' i have to deal with airports & security for the next 13 hours. miss chicago a lot. hope kitty is okay. hope i get a window seat. not many people here yet - nobody to rip on. buncha' normal dorks, that's it. i love when people bring fuggin' suitcases as carry-ons. is that shit really necessary?


writing is usually more entertaining to me. i'm bored as hell. gonna' go listen in on some dude hitting on some chic with braces.....
13 hours.



there's a lost child and for some reason that's really funny to me.


is it?


ha ha ha - cradle robber!
* inquisitive glances....not a chance, buddy boy *
pittsburgh, PA

i had to go out for a smoke and when coming back through security check, they found hilarity in my hair. to the point where they almost didn't let me pass. they made me take off my fuggin' boots (i KNOW!!) and scan them. told me no safety pins - there goes half my fuggin' outfit. but, after much hassle, they let me go. "lookin' the way you do, you should expect constant hassles & checks when travelling." condescending tone. i told her how it was, sent her on her way, back into her shitty, hate-filled life with a smile on her face. "you're the highlight of our day, are you KIDDING?" you better believe it, bitch.

my head hurts cuz' i washed it.

holy shit fucking turd launcher


my feet are swollen and pain-filled there's snow here i'm wearing kneepads i like to suck dick. god, now that i'm goin' home i have to get this fuckin site UP! gotta' start workin' my slacker-ass off...
this is my mom -->















this is my mom on new year's eve (sexy mamma!!) -->
so, whilst being cradled in my chintzy plastic flying chair a mile above ground, i decided to peruse the skymall magazine (conveniently positioned next to the barf bag - oh, the irony) in search of kickass shit i didn't need or could afford.

<-- such as THIS hot item
well, i was enjoying myself immensely when the page turned and my happily salivating face broke down and turned inside itself












































she was BACK . . . and it fucking freaked me out. see, i have a story about this horible plastic disaster...























not even mrs. beasley.
with fear and utter anguish






































muahhhhh haaa! !
MRS. BEASLEY ! !











muaha HA ha HAAAAAAA
when i was but a wee messy, i collected stuffed animals & dolls - they were stored on some shelves in my bedroom, the top of which i couldn't reach. well, mrs. beasley was on the second-to-top shelf and i couldn't get to her without climbing my dresser. as a typical little girl, i had lost her clothes and her hair was ravaged and, if i were her, i'd hate the living fuck outta' me. but for christ's sake, she was a SENIOR CITIZEN DOLL! what the fuck, you know? so she was never any sorta' favorite of mine or anything.

one day, i went to brockway roller rink in sagginballs, michigan, to rent a movie with my mom. i was a little kid and saw the cover to the horror movie, dolls, and it made me think of how pissed off mrs. beasley must be, up on that shelf with no clothes and no love. for nights, i would lie awake with the light-crack of the door falling right on mrs. beasley, perched upon her shelf OF DOOM, staring hatefully off into space.

i finally summed up the courage to climb my dresser and grab that bitch, toss her under the bed, and live to tell about it.

see, under-the-bed is a sacred place. anything that gets tossed under there is trapped in this void of under-the-bedness and NOTHING CAN ESCAPE IT ! !
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