Time for me to complain about nothing.

OK. Hello assholes, it's Rach. I HAVE NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT, and at the same time, EVERYTHING to say.

So like, eating cinnamon donuts maaaaay not be the best thing to eat, but fuck it. Ronnie would've eaten them all if I hadn't took 2 for myself. AND I STILL GOT ANOTHER HALF TO EAT. Craaazy, right? I need some cranberry juice, fuck this! Plus I'm listening to some crazy bitch from the Mars Volta sing in Spanish, so now I got constant farting problems. Good song, though. PLUS, I'm wearing a hair clip, which is pretty rare of me. Anyway.

Soooo, you know how liiiike, sometimes when good things happen to your friends, you get sorta pissed because you want that certain thing to happen to yooooou? Yeah, that shit is RAGING. I hate it. I'm a horrible cunt, but it happens. Sometimes you just gotta look in the mirror and say, "No, I will NOT live in a van down by the river, I will live in a pretenious artsy fuck of an apartment, painting my walls purple and scribbling cartoons all over them, WHILE QUIETLY EATING RAMEN. Shrimp flavor, too. Fuck beef." You know? I've had many, MANY, moments like that. In fact, they happens almost everyday, because suburban boredom is hard. You know? You knooooow? It really is. Because honestly, THIS IS AN APARTMENT COMPLEX, there's nothing to do. No front yard, only a parking lot with spics who can't drive. Yes, I'm a spic myself, don't get up in arms.

And the backyard is a nice lake, but my parents think that pedobear is gonna snatch me if I walk out there by myself, so blah. But dude, if I had my own rooooom, I'd have 10x more fun than I do now. I can haz privacy? No? Damn.

I still got a 1/4th of this donut... Should I eat it? My ass is cooking up a raging storm of fudge, I'm not sure if I should. Mmmm, just took a bite. It's yummy. But my ass is like "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!". I DON'T CARE WHAT MY ASS THINKS. Unless it has diharrea, of course, then I have no choice. If diharrea was a choice, I'd like, ya know, not have it and stuff. But I don't get it often. I eat my fiber like a good girl! This house is ran by a bunch of raging hippies who use those re-usable grocery bags, I FUCKING SWEAR. It makes me feel importent or some shit, but even with the ego it gives me, everyone should use those. The landfills need a hug, guys.

Aaaaaaaand, I think I'm done for now. I'M GONNA GO SHIT AND DRINK SOYMILK. And then wish I had awesome hair like Omar Rodriguez. Seriously, that's the best afro I've ever seen.

Byyyyyye. *click*

PS: Finished that donut.