there is a girl that reminds me of myself physically, and whom i hate. she’s slightly shorter than i am with considerably lighter hair, much more primped, and she’s got the vaguest, most unintelligent stare about her. i guess we look like identical twins with polar opposite personalities: she’s the girly-looking version of me, and i’m the plain-but-smart version of her. we share the same eyes, except that hers have been dulled by chronic lack of thought.
so to continue, she’s in lust with one of my guy friends, hereafter known as “dan,” and has inappropriately attached herself to me, engaging in a sort of symbiotic (parasitic, to be accurate) relationship with me: dan’s unfortunate penis being her ultimate pie in the sky. i say “unfortunate penis” with respect to its status as a preyed upon thing, maliciously stalked by a borderline bimbo, not with respect to its nature or physical attributes or any such thing. i’m a lesbian and a friend for christ’s sake, how dare you presume…
the damn oscillating fan in the corner of the room is distracting me.
anyway, she’s essentially using me to get to him. she’s essentially using him to get some. i can describe the color and consistency of the hate i find in me when i’m around people like her: it’s sickly yellow, and viscous, and it sticks to you like sickly yellow mud, and it cakes your insides and then hurts you slowly and inwardly. i hate hating people, but sometimes i can’t help it. i’m a selective pacifist, what can i tell you? i vehemently refuse to murder a spider if i should happen to find one in my shower or something, but when i see this girl and her long manicured fingernails with the cute little colored tips, i want to rip them out and stick ‘em up her fake-baked ass.
she snorts when she laughs, and is immediately disgusted with herself. i think she considers it a faux pas and has attempted to beat it out of herself for years and failed, to my shameless satisfaction. i lovelovelove when people like her get to realize their humanity. it’s such a sweet anodyne after a deluge of their superficial conversation.
in other news, i wish i were british. for some reason, i’m hopelessly and nonsensically enamored with the accent and the cultural differences. clearly i’ll have to live there someday, if only to get this idealized version of england out of my face, and move on with life, either there or here in the states.
while i’m still here i’m busy laughing at lost, confused chaney as he darts from branch to branch, trying to find his place like an adolescent in the social food chain of junior high. man, my english friends… mr. blaire can come be our next president if you’re done with him. he’s smarter than bush and chaney combined. and gordon brown for that matter.