hello mister diary.

i am so frustrated. i could scream at the top of my lungs, punch and kick and jump up and down like a bratty little teenager. %&$&^$&^%$

instead, i sit here in my frigid apartment, listening to really loud music and going countless crunches and pushups. i feel better when i sweat.

i think my goldfish (alligator III and fishstick) like the beat of this music. both the speaker and the fishbowl are on my desk, and they are wiggling more than normal. the fish like the impossibles.

so i need someone to drag to the butchies show tomorrow night. i want to bring a boy that i can hang all over now and again (last time i went to see them at the skinny, i was assumed to be a lesbian). maybe jeremy with come with me, or jeff. yes, jeff. jeff gets blushy when i ask him to play the boyfriend at these estrogen-filled events. hell, jeff gets blushy quite often. i love me some jeff. he is the best friend ever.

yes, this music is helping my mood. funny how that works, hmm?

anyway, back to sweating.

music: the impossibles, oxygen