I know why you come here, my beloved little squirrels. "What insane shit is Miss Banshee going to do today? Is she going to hide under the couch, or play dress-up even though she's freaking 32 years old? Is she going to talk about the cats, or self-mutilation? WE DON'T KNOW."
Well that's the exciting bit, isn't it?
I'll tell you what I'm definitely doing today, probably as soon as I finish writing this. I'm taking my happy ass to WALMART. *Shudder*. Isn't that exciting??? I can hear the deafening cries of "NO," from here, thanks a lot. But you forget, this is your tiny little internet friend Miss Banshee, and she cannot go anywhere, not even the COUCH, without something interesting or freakish happening.
Oh, on the way to the couch this morning to write this, I tripped over my own feet and bonked my knee into the coffee table. Of course I did. At least it was my own foot I tripped over, and not, say, AIR, or GRAVITY, which is not uncommon.
So anyway, yes, we (the royal we) are going to Walmart today. WHY in the name of Merlin's tightie whities are we going to Walmart? Because I am bound and determined to get out of the house today. YES! I will leave the apartment! I will put on PANTS. and SHOES. And go somewhere where there are OTHER PEOPLE. That somewhere just happens to be freaking WalMart.
"But Miss B," I hear you sigh, "what is so blasted exciting about bloody WalMart that you're writing a frakking blog entry about it? Can't you have a nervous breakdown or tell a story about rehab, or the time your pants fell down while you were hunting for your back door key and you weren't wearing any underpants? That's FAR more interesting than WalMart."
Oh, but kittens. You see, everything I do outside of this apartment is FULL ON PERFORMANCE ART. So I WILL get all dressed up, and I WILL do my hair, and I WILL go to WalMart to pick up a dvd of a movie. What movie? That would be telling (New Moon) and I'm not telling (it's New Moon) because that would be embarrassing as shit, (New Moon, squee!) and also I will look at clothes that I will not buy because I still have 14 pounds to lose to get to my goal weight, and also every article of clothing at WalMart is sized thusly: "Juniors S/M/L" = "vair cute, but too tiny for an emaciated 9 year old" or "Regular S/M/L" which are NOT cute, NOR tiny, but vair boring and also completely unflattering for my body, which lacks the following:
- one ass
- two hips
- two boobs
The "grown up clothes, please wear them in the name of pants" fit me terribly, because they are meant for women, who have things like asses, and hips, and boobs. I DO NOT HAVE THESE. So I shop in the Juniors dept., because hello, adorable! But even the XL is so teensy weensy that I feel like a PRIZE HEIFER instead of looking at the situation rationally and saying to myself instead that these clothes are meant for girls that are half your bloody age, you loon.
So I always end up in the accessories department, because when you have twelve piercings total, there is ALWAYS a reason to go to the accessories department.
I'm exhausted already and I haven't even gone yet.
You know what? Screw WalMart. It's only 8:30 AM and I got four hours of sleep. I'm going back to the bed. This whole blog entry? All this rambling? About dvds and being a prize heifer and OMG yes, I really do have twelve piercings? Forget it. I was never here, you never read this.
Just a glitch in the Matrix. Carry on with your undoubtedly splendid day. I'll be in my jimjams, not going to WalMart, but working on the Super Sekrit Project.
And so we end the most disastrous, ramshackle, pointless blog entry ever.