the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
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6:53 p.m. + 2005-12-24 = julen av familjen.
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not five minutes into the door, gifts delicately droppt at the foot of the tree, hugs allocated, coat removed, i find myself holed up in room writing diaryland entry.
i smell dinner.
y'all smell a play-by-play.
already, the phrase, "you're the hardest man to shop for," has been cast in my direction.
i am fearful for what the elves have brought/given me this year; i did not, really, ask for anything... shall we say, "reasonable."
though, i honestly don't understand why an eighteen-year-old thinks buying me a new fanbelt dismisses reason since said-eighteen-year-old refuses, "on principle," to gift me the new Kanye West CD. [[she thinks she's "punk." Hot Topic is all she knows of "punk." i am so ashamed.]]
christmas step 1: eats.
...to be continued...
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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]
[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]
