doc and i are supposedly going to the laundrette today to wash all the bedding and cook the stuffed animals. i don't believe it and i'm wearing my fuckit outfit. black sweats and a brown tshirt. with my hair tied back. i need to wash it. i just didn't feel like it when i took a bath earlier. taking a bath seemed like a fucking chore.
i was nice and good all day yesterday. getting bribed with corndogs and ice cream from sonic helped that along. i was the one that remembered 50 cent corndogs on halloween. yummy!
i was watching the news on MSNBC, but then the shooting at LAX happened, and now it's all breaking news. which is unreliable news, and i don't want to listen to it. i learned that watching the 10th anniversary coverage of 9/11. they did a minute by minute replay on MSNBC. and it was amazing how wildly wrong everyone was about everything and how they spun off into media oblivion with their conjectures. i won't watch breaking news because of that, anymore.
the thing about getting along with doc, he wants to talk to me a lot more. i forget how hard it must be on him to have his only friend be a raving lunatic bitch. i have him, what does he have, nothing but me. i suck. i need to not suck so much. he deserves a friend that loves him all the time and acts like it all the time.
ooh, i started writing a poem in my stoned sleep last night. i knew i would forget it so i sat up and grabbed a journal and wrote it down. i can finish that at the laundrette. not the most poetic place, but hey.