how are things on the west coast?

i was told late last night in the parking lot that i "should literally be committed to a looney farm or something" and that i'm "just sick!" mission accomplished. outside myself really. pesky dissociatives.

i really wanna tear my fucking nose off my face though. replace it with a beanie baby. preferably a big bossman BULL beanie baby boy. toro! toro! toro! covered in rams blood. that way, cats will know i don't take no shit offa nobody! i would go with a Furby, but those shits are just plain cumbersome. and kinda gay.

it would help i think. i got stabbed in the roof of the mouth with a pencil when i was five. 1st grade. skipped kindygarten after the first week, so i was the youngest in the class and thus, public enemy number fun. first and final year of public school. or "state school" for you Britishers out there.

haven't been the same since love.

so don't tell me i gotta go to some fluorescent and linoleum nightmare box, short-skirt, 'cuz i already been. they kicked me out. said i was "untreatable." yeah whatev. fucken quacks.