I drive a Jeep and I can be pretty patriotic, or patronising, or priapractic. Ugh. Stuff. Andyways. I think we can’t just have this story telling time here. We need to pile on in to my car ass I take us on an off roading mother fucking adventure, just… 80 km per hour over gravel terrain, winding bends and shit. HAHAHA. Why? Because I can. I know how to drive. I remember when the dudes went hiking through the Blue Mountains and I came to pick them up at the end of their trip, I laughed at their bowed legs. Like they’d been horse riding, but really they were just that tired and sore. I drove us home and one of them said how they’re survived the hike only to dive on the car ride home, them way I was hooning through the trails. LOL
Anyway. It’s fine. I can talk and pretend to drive at the same time. It’s totally safe. Come on, get in. It’s not a fucking white (or black) utility truck or van. It’s a fucking Jeep. You’ll be fine. Ok? Thank you. Alright. Let’s turn the radio on and let take a drive on the wild side.
I know how to drive, ok? Stop telling me to get back in my lane. Fuck.
Oh no you don’t fucking dare. You are not going to fucking stall on me bitch. ARRRGHHHH!!! Fuck I hate everything and technology! And fucking machines! And anything that is a noun – I hate all people places and things! DO YOU WANNA SEE MY ROAD RAGE AND SHIT?! OR SHOULD I CALM THE FUCK FUCK FUCKING DOWN !>!>!>!>!>!>??!??!?!?!?
SPOTIFY YOU MOTHER FUCKING FUCKER. LET’S PUT YOU ON RANDOM AND FUCKING DECIDE.
HAHAHAHA OMFG. Someone please save me, im losing myself. I am lookin for some fire yeah, don’t make me repeat myself. I’ll never be perfect, so I’ma say to the people that got a little evil’ comin’ at you from me I think that deserve it. Going, withering away. Hate, This, Place!
Okay. Seriously. This is perfect. This is so synchronistic with the fact I just read Rick’s story thingy. And WTF this just happened… I originally wanted to write about love. A love story, a philosophy of mine about love. But fucking technology just fucking pisses me off and never works in the fucking way I want it to. I feel I will never get to join the fucking gods up there in the sky, the ones who are true artists and can create worlds and visions and ART… just… any art. I’m just a damned fucking tree. Or shrub! I know in all my spinning whirly ma jiggeny jiggy, it can be difficult to tell if I am being serious or just shit stirring you, such is the curse of Thalita: the tragic black comedy duo Melinoe and Terpsichore, fused together into one shitty fidget spinning spinner.
Oh yeah, before I forget. The current date and time is 8 December 2018, it is 5:26 am.
Real life, real time.
- Yesterday the lessons were on understanding the various types of variables in a scientific experiment; propaganda; basic quantum physics; and closed the day with a flock of niner niners debriefing with me their reports from their own call of duties.
- Jack Black wants to tell his brother Kyle that bitches ain’t loyal. Never trust bitches like that. They say they want stuff, but they’re just liars. They just want you to blow smoke up their arse, don’t worry whatever they say. You know who your friends are. Those bitches just make themselves look stupid. LOL
- Today Dr Strange and Supergirl’s son, K-POP1, has his birthday party to which my X-Man will be going. Squee!!! So excite! Haven’t seen them in ages J Love em.
You know what? I am going to talk about love. I’m going to talk about their love story! Well, my version of it anyway. By the way. Let’s get out of the Jeep now. I wanna go back to… campus. And just… sit and chill out. We don’t need to go speedstart car racing across the Nevada desert. Just remember our space and finite place. I wanna sit in a park and just… chill. So where are we then? The Park of the Phoenix.
This is Rapunzel of the Big 4 speaking, welcome to the show, its story time now I guess. But I’m nothing without the real fucking rockstars, my actual musicians of my here band… Hickup, Jack Frosty, and Merisida.
I wanna take you back to those days, my days anyways. My days with Spam. I fucking love spam. I don’t get what’s so funny? I’m being completely serious here. You guys know what Spam is right? It’s deliciousness. I have repeatedly said that i say exactly as I mean, and I mean exactly what I say. There is no other way to say it. Spam is good. I only know 3 spam songs and I already shared one with you called lost in my thoughts. I want to save star for last, so here I will be sharing with you my monkey.
SPAM – BABOON
Goodbye my beloved, come back to me soon. Farewell my dear, I can’t bear to see you go. So long my love, have a pleasing trip. See you soon my precious one. / Don’t keep me waiting til we meet again, my queen. Pledge me your safe return. / Baboon, Baboon April, Baboon. / Goodbye my beloved, pleasure meeting you. I’ll always cherish all those kodak moments. Hopefully, someday, your sight would light my way, though our fate is hard to say. / Oh yes I’ve waited but nothing was gain. Why, my queen? Promise me you’ll never change. / Baboon April, I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you a lot. I’m gonna miss you a lot. Come back to me soon, my love. / Hopefully, someday, my fear would go away, and let you hear what I have to say.
The only one I have anything resembling chords or music for. D, Em and G. F#m and A maybe thrown in for fancy flourishings
Dude. It’s 7:00 am and I’m pretty fucking chill but also fucking annoyed. I hate getting interrupted with petty shit, stuff not working, whatever whatnote because then I forget what I was trying to say. Not like it matters to anyone, any way. Oh sure, it matters to folks on the internet, but people in my real life present just think I’m fucking insane. I don’t blame them, I hate me too. Yay! yay…
So gotta wear the mask of censorship. I don’t get to be my super fanatical fan girl of freedom and festivities. I have to subdue myself to a much more palatable flavour. No go hard or go home bullshit. Just totally mute it down to a barely percipticle tiddy-biddy thing.
No spearmints. No peppermints. Fuuuck, I don’t even know if I get to be even just MINT. I know I’m not allowed to love or like too much but I can’t help it. Life is sensational, it’s all about experiences and experimental sensations. That’s why I fucking love art (and have a love/hate relationship with people. People=shit. I am a people). I am all for the creative and performing arts, visual arts, and the auralic orations. But you see I don’t just say stuff, I EAT IT TOO. I wanna taste the rainbow (please don’t shit on this skittle, too) of colours (not brown) in the wind (not gases).
Gastronomy, gastromonic nom nom nomings. Gastradamus is a herald of YONDER LORE! SPEAKING TRUTHS OF WISDOM THAT HAVE NOT YET HAPPENED BUT MIGHT HAVE, MAYBE, ONE DAY, SOONER OR LATER! I eat shit and it poops out of their blog. How fucking awesome and weird is that? LOLOLOL.
In terms of chocolate, I know my chocolat. I am the totally breakable wafer breaker Kit Kat; I am also the egghead Kinder Surprise, because I contain gifts inside! (plus part brown and part white). My new chocolate choccy I have assimilated into the essence of my 4×4 essential material being? Why, introducing … AERO. The chocolate, bubbly mint chocolate delish, where it costs the same as any other chocolate snack, but you get less bang for your buck because you’ve getting extra prockets of AIR in the middle of mint.
LOL what the fuck is wrong with me.