THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I am listening to Black Sails in the Sunset....
You know what? Nevermind. Let's just not go there.
I don't think anyone, let alone me, wants to hear more of my constant bitchings about that goddamn band.
Cause really I could go on for hours.
Mostly about their 'fans' lately, though....
Again, shutupshutupshutup, Elizabeth.
Anyway. Today?
Oh right.
So...Uhhh....Oh yeah.
How sick is it to put 'Punk Rock Princess' on a shirt made for seven year olds?
It's almost insulting.
I hate shopping with my sister. She's such a fucking psycho.
And so after that little trapse through the crowded Traget isles filled with screaming children and teenafe mothers (I love humanity), we went out to eat.
I got a salad-as usual- and, well....
Since when does slapping down half of a head of lettuce onto a plate with dressing, steak, and eggs count as a salad?
One doesn't usually have to use a knife to eat their salad....
And...Hmmm....What else....
Tonight I'm actually going out of my little BatCave here, and seeing Napolean Dynamite with the mater.
Plus, I (FINALLY) get to go and get the CDs I...earned....slave laboring for her.
Which is not pleasent in the least, may I add.
Yeah, so that's it.
I'm having insatiable chocolate cravings.
Oh. Heh heh.
Here's a note to everyone who has a slight interest in either Rancid or The Dropkick Murphys/Flogging Molly- which, considering the people who read this lame diary, would be basically everyone:
The Pogues (a.k.a. the ORIGINAL Irish punk band) sound just like if Tim Armstrong were singing for Flogging Molly....Which, actually, is just funny.
Except for this one song...Then it sounds like Tim Armstrong singing elevator music...With an accordian....
That one was not so funny.
Count on me for the random recommendations.
Honestly, I disgust myself.
I should have just gone with the Davey rant, dammit.