Saturday, March 12, 2005

Rebel without a clause.

My sis in law is rebelling against something. I'm not sure what it is. She wore combat boots to prom in high school, so I think that qualifies as rebelling. She also has an assortment of tatoos and piercings. Maybe grownuphood. Which is a good thing to rebel against.

I mean, come on. Who DOESNT want all the rights and privelages with none of the responsibility or social conditions. Y'know, like that crappy one about dressing like a grownup and stuff. I'm a stiff. I'd say I'm a suit, but if I wore bitchy bitch suits, then maybe I'd at least feel special or something. No. I'm that chick who wears the slacks, the comfy shoes and the sweater with the colared shirt sticking out. Shudder. Ok, I said I'd never work in an office. I also said I'd never be a boring old stiff. Lets see, I crochet for fun, I mop my kitchen floor every Sunday, and getting a wicker hamper with a lid was the highlight of my week. Maybe *I* need a few tatoos and piercings.

I keep wanting to dye my hair dark brown and do deep violet "highlights" on my hair. LIke that'll somehow solve it. Kill me. Oh yeah. And I want a straightening iron. That'll help.

I've been thinking about getting a tatoo for a while, but if I do that means I'm in eligable to be a platelets/marrow donor for an entire year.

Besides a frontal lobotomy, the only cure's a pair of leather pants, a knee-length leather duster and a license to kick asses and take names. Yeah. That's it. I really can't be a ninja. I think I missed the ninja boat long ago. But I can be one of those bubblegum chewing asskickers. Yeah. That's it. And if you cut me off, I whip out my sawed off shotgun and shoot your tires off. And if you bring me dressing instead of CHEESE for my burger (da hell?) I give you a boot to the head.

Yeah. That'd be better than dyed hair. Maybe I can have both.


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