Tuesday, January 03, 2006

So, 2006, eh? Hmm...are you as sucky as 2005?

-my hair fading. I hope I finally stumble upon the perfect long lasting fast acting super mega pink.
-natural disasters. I'm not sure what we're supposed to learn from this but I think that's enough heartbreak on one planet for a few hundred years now.
-50 Cent. He's gotta go away. I'd even put up with Diddy-Puffy if it meant less Fiddy. I don't even listen to his so called music and I'm sick of him.
-The whole load of Jessica/Ashlee/ Paris/ Nicole/ skinny-Lindsay/ Hilary group. I'm sure they're all very nice girls but it wore thin -get it, wore thin?- about a year ago. Buh bye. Please.
-Terrorists. I don't mean to be glib because this is serious. But really. You're not proving anything. You don't even know if there are virgins in heaven. They wouldn't stay that way long if they're in heaven, would they? It's just gotta stop.
-homework. Why do schools insist on torturing children when it's so much more healthy, and productive, to tame dragons and dance with unicorns? I mean, that's what I'd do if I wasn't blogging. Like, if you could make a living at it? School sucks now even worse than it did in the '80's, man.
-Withdrawal. *&$%# Celexa. I hate what it felt like to be on it and I hate coming off of this %&$$ ^%#F@ even more.
-depression. I'm gonna take acting lessons. I've been so good at pretending for the last few years I gotta do something with it.
-anxiety. Maybe I'll take singing lessons too. That's something you can be legitimately scared of as opposed to irrational stupid paralyzing fear for no apparent reason, which isn't fun.
-horrible wasting diseases that affect entire families and have no treatment or cure.
-workaholism. He's gotta spend more time at home. The music industry is already in the toilet, why spend so much time tuning the cowbell, or whatever the hell it is he does? Although nothing says death metal like cowbell...
-Dog eliminations in my house. Puppies grow up fast, puppies grow up fast, puppies grow up fast....
-bloggers who really have nothing to say. Get a diary and a pen. The rest of you can stay.


-enemies taking a good long look at each other and thinking, you know, maybe they're not so bad after all, and maybe if we just stop talking about religion and politics, and taught each other how to dance, maybe we could just party together once a year or so and then forget all this war crap. Yeah man! Fuck war, let's dance!!!!
-boots. Winter riding boots, tall brown leather Frey boots with the buckle harness, black knee high boots with a very high heel, and some red and black cowboy boots. And some pink boots of course. And some insulated barn boots. All good.
-Publishers to finally get their heads our of their collective arses and realize that my middle grade novel about a nine year old guitar playing girl with buck teeth and a grouchy brother is a damn solid story that kicks ass on half the crap on the shelf at Chapters right now. Geez.
-For my fingers to coninue to flow so easily over the keyboard, chanelling my eloquent thougts into the world of words. Not the War of the Worlds. I'm sick of drugs but I'm no Tom Cruise okay?
-kids doing housework. That would be awesome.
-the Darkness. I wanna revel in the Majesty of Rock and be able to laugh with it. Which leads me to...
-more English men in general. Except Jude Law, I'm sick of him.
-more Hick! More respect for the Hick!

Next: I'm going to wrap up '05 real good and proper. First Annual Hick Chic Review of Everything I Gave a Crap About!

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