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Who wants some?


I have a bit of a problem. Likely, it is ridiculous and common. This ailment is that near everything makes me want to weep! Yes, anything beautiful, anything regrettable, things gone, things even mildly tragic. Can one imagine how many objects, events, people fit these descriptions? Nearly everything. For this reason, I lurch about rather drunkenly, with feverish cheeks, buring eyes, aching throat, and my mind far elsewhere. Are they spectacularly over-done mood swings?! Of course, this child is one who would easily choose to die over being witnessed with tears on her cheeks. Despite my desperate endeavors, a tear or so does occasionally escape. And who should see, but my ignorant and superhumanly pale little insect of an admirer, Andrew. To my credit, I needed only to give him a venemous stare and he knew not to utter a syllable of it. What brought on this pitiable deluge? A simple picture. Yes, of Tim Hopson, the only person who I had ever loved, I readily admit. Of course my letter did not reach him. My pudgy, vacuous, blonde messenger did indeed fail me. Suprise, suprise. The beslubbering creature most likely still has my letter. For the rest of my insignificant existance, I will likely sit in pensive misery. Forever wishing and wondering after what the Hell happened to him. Bah. I shall here, in the manner of musicians, thank my Christmas Donators. I extend my worthless thanks to My Mother, creatress, all. To my overly-Christian Uncle, Kevin, who hath denounced all music that is not made by sad little stoners who grovel before "God" even in their free-time. To the un-challened matriarch of the family, Deborah Strasser. To my Grandfather, and his frighteningly malicious wife, whom I am not related to by blood. To Missus Ogdelene Elizabeth Ketelboater. And, lastly, to Amanda, warrior of pink. Thank you all. And to all you beloved, rough-hewn onlookers who have reached this point, thank you.

Have A Hellish Christmas!

(Slip of the tongue, Loves. I meant Happy. No, really. Everything is made well as long as the word 'happy' precedes it. Except, perhaps, euthanasia. Enough. Farewell!)