Oh isn't life grand? No, not really. Right now I'm looking at my mom's fat ass bent over cleaning something or other. I always try to look out the window when I'm writing. Unfortunately right now my mom's ass is in the way. Ahh, there she moved. Now I can see the trees, the grass, and can't forget the fucking parking lot. The beautiful concrete, with cracks, and man holes, yellow lines painted on the concrete, and all the different cars parked in between those yellow lines. City life's so grand.
Don't worry, I'll get to the nimpples soon enough. Right now, why someone would think I'm not the author of my blog posts? Believe me, it is me. Anna Grace Young. Haven't showered in weeks, and my arm pit hair has grown out, as well as my leg hair. I haven't bothered to shave in almost a year. I did bleach my arm pit hair, and my leg hair. You can only see the leg hair if you look closely, but you can still see the arm pit hair. Deodorant gets caked in there. I do wash my face daily, and I use baby wipes to wipe my ass. I do change my underwear at least once a week, or if they start to smell I either turn them inside out, or put on clean ones.
I haven't used in two days. No money, no way to get money. I need a hair cut, my damned hair grows so fast. I've only had this hair do for about a month, and have had to do my roots twice. I bought a bunch of those small packets of bleach, and two big bottles of 40 developer. It was on sale at Sally's, so I went all out and bought 10 packets and two 20oz bottles of developer. Plus I bought a bunch of purple hair die for when I get sick of the yellow/blonde. Those were only 6 bucks a piece, so I got 4. My, my, I've gone off track, anyway...my hair is almost past my shoulders already, and its suppose to be a inch above my shoulder. I cut my own bangs, but I don't dare cut the rest of my hair. It has to be textured, and get my face framed, as well, as getting my hair thinned out. I shouldn't complain about thick hair that grows too fast. I know I'm lucky for that. One of the good things about me. It just means I have to get trims all the time. I'm not going to do my own bangs next time, because I cut my bangs to far across. You can't really tell, but I can, and it bothers me.
I won't be able to use h again for at least week. I need to get my hair cut before I even think of getting high. Which reminds, I was listening to the radio on my drive to the clinic, and herd that there was a major drug bust, 80 some bags of heroin on Tuesday. They gave the name of the three people involved. I didn't recognize any of the names, but has a drug dealer ever used a real name? Who knows there might be a drought for a while.
Which also reminds me of the Jose' court date. I got a call the day before the court date and they said it was cancelled. I don't know if he plead out, or if its just postponed. I hope he plead out. I do know he was facing 40 years. 20 in, and 20 out. That was the max. Hardly anyone ever gets the max. Although he has a long record of armed robbery in Purto Rico, where he was in prison for a few years when he was younger.
My dresses haven't come back from the seamstress. So if I had had to go to court I wouldn't have been able to wear what I wanted. I do have a skirt with a petticoat for under it to poof it out, and I, could have worn that with this little girl Lolita shirt I got with puffy sleeves, and bow collar. It's white and cute.
This weekend there is a 60th birthday party for one of my uncles whom I do not like, and don't like that side of the family too much. I don't have a good reason not to like them, but I don't. I guess we were just never close, like I am with the other side of my family. Neither side of the family understands me. They have no idea why I would write a blog and tell the most intimate details of my life, and often lie.
I've changed my commenter's status. I'm still not allowing anon comments, but I am allowing people who sign in to comment. I doubt I'll ever let anonymous people comment again. I used to think everyone has a right to voice their opinion, but now I think, opinions are like ass holes, every one's got one, and everyone thinks everyone elses' stinks. So now if you have an opinion you have to at least take the time to sign in, and leave the comment. The interesting thing is, I thought that since I have my email address available those fuck wads who leave rude mean comments would email me and tell me off, but they are too afraid to show who they are. If I ever leave a mean comment I always leave my name. I often give my opinion on Facebook, and when it comes to this one guy I know who is a musician and posts his songs, I tell him his music sucks. First off he sounds like the guy from the terrible band Creed. All of his lyrics are about how amazing life is, and how if your struggling you should look at the positive. YUK! Go post your Christan rock some place else. I'm surprised he and his girlfriend have not blocked me yet.
Now on to nimpples. So I had this lump on my aureole. I never once suspected it was anything bad. I just thought it was a blocked milk duct. It would go away sooner or later. Then one day I was taking a bath, and I was looking at this big ball on my aureole near the nipple, and I decided I would try to squeeze it. So I did, and....wait for it.... I wish I had someone video taping it, because the first squeeze it shot out. I was surprised, so I only squeezed for a second. Before I squeezed again, I looked to see were the puss landed, and it had shot up and out, and then fell back into the water. I got the thick puss onto my finger, and it felt like Styrofoam. That's when I squeezed again, I didn't have to squeeze hard and puss came piling out. Not once, not twice, but three times. When it was done I had enough puss to cover two finger nails. It was like once the puss hit the air it got thicker. I smelled it, and it didn't stink. So I jumped out of the tub, and ran to the mirror, wiped all the puss on the mirror. Its all hard now, as it was a while ago this happened. I'm afraid to touch the puss on the mirror because it will all fall off if I touch it even slightly. I like to look at it, and be reminded of it. I think about it before I go to sleep, and it calms me. Why things popping and puss coming out calms me I do not know. Why does thinking about killing myself comforting to me?
Now if you had any questions as to if it is me, Anna Grace, writing these posts I hope I have put to bed all doubts.
I think the reason my grammar has gotten a little better is because I'm reading classic novels. I always thought I only liked Beat Nik writers, but now I know I love all sorts of genres. My new favorite book is Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. It used to be Junky by William S. Burroughs. I finished David Copperfield finally. I loved that book so much I didn't want to finish it. Master Davy is like a brother to me. I love his story, and the fact that he ends up with Agnes, his adopted sister makes me think that I have a shot with him. I am more like Dora, the child bride. Not too bright, and plays with Jip all the time, my Jip is Eleanor. Plus Dora dies young, and as we all know I'm going to die young. Because my last name is Young. Muhahahaha.
Live long and prosper.