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Aug. 28th, 2003 02:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
philrancidIt is officially a mouse.
It has developed a squeak, so that every time I try to play some retarded clicky-on-things-and-make-them-vanish game, all I hear (over the goofy sound effects of the games themselves) is squeak squeak squeak.
I thought I would like to sit here and shoot myself in the head, but I realized the best I could manage would be with a tiny little hair-braiding rubber band, which, with my luck would go straight inmy eye, and I would have to spend all day tomorrow being the bearer of the red and watery orb. Sometimes being a total flake is irksome.
I added three seconds to my mile, but only becasue I had to stop and tie my shoe, and wait for some idiot to realize that the entire street is not their POS's plaything; i hit the lap button on the watch, instead of the stop/start, so , when I went to start again, wound up with a time that was still timing, I guess.
Have been hella woozy and dizzy since the last of the Paxil. You know that headshake thing you do when you're trying to shake off sleepiness? (You might not do it, but if you were any sort of a nice person, you would humor me, and start soon) It feels like that--inside my brain. Like some sort of short-circuit or something, and I have been roaming around all starey and unfocused. Have also screamed at people for little to no reason, full out yelling.
And I won't even get into how many people I've had to chase out of my yard because they're upset that I've been biting the shit out of their children... I'm beginning to think the phrase "Get the fuck out of here or I'll beat you to death!" has lost its meaning in my end of the world.
I'm 6'1", 250 lbs, and occasionally so scary-looking, that as a younger man, I have been escorted from buildings, just for being there, and yet these idiots somehow feel that it is still perfectly okay for them to stand in the face of some Anglo absolute stranger (we're the worst, mind) and ignore threats to their life and limb as though they were mere babbling.
If any of that had really happened, mind you, it would probably put me right out. I'm not sure I could bring myself to bite any of the neighbor children--they don't seem to stay very clean, and with the humidity here, the little weasels are bound to be entirely too sweaty... Now, the withdrawal, and screaming at my fam is true, but i apologize after, and make sure that everyone under the age of ten gets a good old-fashioned jump on the middle of my back as a way of making amends.
It's two in the morning, here, in nunu land, and the goldfish are wondering when they shall feed. I hear a cream soda calling me, and it's hard to hear what it's saying over the insistent whining of my bed (you were supposed to be here Hours ago...)
It has developed a squeak, so that every time I try to play some retarded clicky-on-things-and-make-them-vanish game, all I hear (over the goofy sound effects of the games themselves) is squeak squeak squeak.
I thought I would like to sit here and shoot myself in the head, but I realized the best I could manage would be with a tiny little hair-braiding rubber band, which, with my luck would go straight inmy eye, and I would have to spend all day tomorrow being the bearer of the red and watery orb. Sometimes being a total flake is irksome.
I added three seconds to my mile, but only becasue I had to stop and tie my shoe, and wait for some idiot to realize that the entire street is not their POS's plaything; i hit the lap button on the watch, instead of the stop/start, so , when I went to start again, wound up with a time that was still timing, I guess.
Have been hella woozy and dizzy since the last of the Paxil. You know that headshake thing you do when you're trying to shake off sleepiness? (You might not do it, but if you were any sort of a nice person, you would humor me, and start soon) It feels like that--inside my brain. Like some sort of short-circuit or something, and I have been roaming around all starey and unfocused. Have also screamed at people for little to no reason, full out yelling.
And I won't even get into how many people I've had to chase out of my yard because they're upset that I've been biting the shit out of their children... I'm beginning to think the phrase "Get the fuck out of here or I'll beat you to death!" has lost its meaning in my end of the world.
I'm 6'1", 250 lbs, and occasionally so scary-looking, that as a younger man, I have been escorted from buildings, just for being there, and yet these idiots somehow feel that it is still perfectly okay for them to stand in the face of some Anglo absolute stranger (we're the worst, mind) and ignore threats to their life and limb as though they were mere babbling.
If any of that had really happened, mind you, it would probably put me right out. I'm not sure I could bring myself to bite any of the neighbor children--they don't seem to stay very clean, and with the humidity here, the little weasels are bound to be entirely too sweaty... Now, the withdrawal, and screaming at my fam is true, but i apologize after, and make sure that everyone under the age of ten gets a good old-fashioned jump on the middle of my back as a way of making amends.
It's two in the morning, here, in nunu land, and the goldfish are wondering when they shall feed. I hear a cream soda calling me, and it's hard to hear what it's saying over the insistent whining of my bed (you were supposed to be here Hours ago...)
