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The worst thing in the world is a stranger's wet, bloody BandAid (TM).

Today I saw a fat fat fat woman wearing a shirt that said "Nothing beats Florida". The lettering was florescent, and there was a cartoon picture of two men in skimpy bathing suits. I didn't understand why anyone, no matter what their size was, would ever want to wear that shirt.

I want to spend on day being sXe. No drugs, no alcohol, no cigarettes. I figure that if I put my mind to it, I can block out my cigarette cravings. But, in the back of my mind, I know that I will say to myself in the height of a craving "Why are you doing this? It's pointless." But I remember my exboyfriend saying something like "Anyone who has been straightedge for any amount of time has never regretted it." And I'd like to see if it's true. Surely, the pain of my body going through withdrawl would be worth it. Riiight.

The two most recent Google.com searches for my page started with "thinkyoursexy" (spelled wrong and everything), and "rainboots".

And to whomever is in Luxembourg and is reading my journal besides me, goshdarnit, freaking write me an email.

Task for today: Pretend you're a stalker and look through your neighbors window. And if you're brave enough, put posters or fake blood, or tape weird things to them... like kitchen utensils or cigarette butts.