(no subject)

Him, handcuffs, and my steel-frame bed. Yeah.

Anyway.

Dad decided that today would be Debauchery Day (my words), and went to the casino to people-watch and get plastered.

He's kind of annoying when he's drunk.

Mom gets this look on her face like, "Kill me. Poke my eyes with hot needles. Anything. Shut up!"

once that look appears, it gets kind of amusing, watching it get more intense and waiting to see how long 'till dad notices it and decides it's bedtime.

heh.

(no subject)

being (semi) involved with the bbs scene again has reminded me of something I've always thought was funny...

boards/pages that have "underground" plastered all over them.

strange, I always thought one of the key features of anything "underground" was it's inaccessibility by the general public..

dreams

my dream last night was odd.

I'm rollerblading around this neighborhood that kind of looks like the part of Collierville that Nina lived in, but I'm having lots of trouble staying on the road, standing straight up, because my legs are so tired I can hardly move them. It hurts so bad to be on them that I'm crying. I fall off the road into a water-filled ditch at one point, and when I get out I'm so angry that I'm wet and tired that I rip off all my wet clothes and keep on trying to rollerblade down the street, now in nothing but boxer briefs. My aunt Tracy drives by in a white Festiva with Eddie and that-fat-stinky-kid-I-can't-remember-his-name from high school in the back seat, stops, laughs, and asks me something. I call her a bitch for laughing at me, and she drives off. Around the corner I go, across somebody's driveway, and a guy I don't recognize comes out and says, "When we were kids, I would go out in back of the house and jerk off." Keep going, into this park-like area with a lake, around a wooded area, back to the lake, and I find bloody handprints and footprints in the grass. I wave at a person on a porch nearby for help, and when she comes close I see that it's this wierd Angel/Lydia mixture person. She starts freaking out, and Dorothy, who was hiding behind a bush 'till now, comes out and explains that she just spilled a jar of something she was drinking, and those were her handprints, wiping off the contents of the jar.

At that point I kicked the wall and woke up.

I'm glad I've been remembering my dreams lately. They're just so wierdly symbolic I have no idea which ones are my brain trying to tell me something, and which ones are just idle.