Emaciation Proclamation

What the fuuuuuuh.
Aunt Lea and Uncle Rudy went and bought like ten times more food today, right after I tried to eat my way through my remaining supply of last week in effort to kill my increasing "baby" weight.
Muthafuckas.
Oh well, my mother is supposedly coming this weekend for my birthday, so that thought is starting to kill my appetite.
Only now I don't have any diet soda or low-calorie liquids left. Pssha. I'm not about to lower my standards and take in that 120 per 8 oz. nasty shit that everyone seems to enjoy either.

...

God damn it. I just fucking realised how Renton I'm sounding.

Oh well fuck it. I NEED to fucking rid myself of these digusting Yakima pounds. I don't know how much is still on me, but I don't feel like doing math and figuring out my new goal, so I'm just going to try to lose an even twenty-five. I only gained twenty, but I don't trust myself enough to rely on minimums.

Ohhhh and guess fucking what.
I was searching on another fashion industry job site, and I found an open fashion design assistant occupation. IN SEATTLE. As if I needed another fucking reason to hate even more of everything. Ugh.

But on the bright side of today, Molly returned to me (more like everyone but me) early this morning. Her leg was hurt, but they're convinced that's all the damage. She has one of those phonograph looking things on her head and is just kind of lying down lazily. I just fucking hope that nothing else is wrong. After all, Rufus' leg was messed up at one point too, and it turned out to be internal problems with her liver and she died. And I don't like things that die.

Speaking of things that die, I had the weirdest fucking dream last night. I was a cokewhore and decided to do some E, but I guess it had meth in it or something and when I took it I was all tripping out and living life to the halfway mark, and then I went to some weird version of a fucked up school I've never known to exist and my teeth and gums started feeling loose. So I asked this weird combination of Ms. Wiskow and Ms. Gunderson (are they Ms. or Mrs.?) if I could go to the loo and when I got there I tried to jam my teeth in farther to stop the wiggling and a majority of them just fell out. I was left with two or three vacancies right smack in the front and was freaking out about what to do and how to fix them. So then I went back to class, still trippin' and tried not to open my mouth too wide so that no one would notice and I wouldn't have to confess my habits. Then, my dreamself started wondering if I was simply fucking out of it and I was imagining it all. So then I went home, took a nap, and when I woke up all my teeth were back in there rightful slots. Then I took a few lines and had some shots.

Fuck, even my dreams are trashed.