i am going to destroy myspace. i just wrote a long description of last night's dream. then i went and hit backspace because i hated my title and it was all lost.

maybe that's the universe's way of telling me it was too long and boring.

anyway, here's the rundown:

i spent all night in my dreamhouse screwing johnny depp's brains out and vice versa. then we walked through the woods to the beach and had a long philosophical discussion.

he lived in my house with his wife and a horde of other people. we ran up the stairs to the attic and then his wife caught us having sex. i tearfully apologized and then was ravaged again by her husband.

the dream was a nice bonus considering i don't think about johnny depp consciously unless i happen to be watching a movie with him in it, and that doesn't happen too often.

i want the house more than i ever wanted johnny depp. he's too hot to even seem real. i have dreamed of that house before. it has a gorgeous garden.

too bad i woke up. in morgantown. and my tv was on.

d'oh!

everyone i work with is on lithium and various other psychotropics. my crazy butch lesbian manager talks about this so much that i could write the prescriptions for all my coworkers.

no wonder there's so much drama. i'm about ready to quit whoring out my espresso-based drink making skills. i'm not getting paid enough, and the mad tips i usually make for being me have all but dried up due to NOBODY COMING TO THE CAFE ANYMORE, EVER.

i feel so fat and out of control, but im not. i think eating a salad and a bagel in a day is out of control. i think thinking that eating a salad and a bagel in a day is out of control is out of control. hahahaha. but i have barely been excersizing at all, and you know what, i don't care. gyms are depressing places full of pathetic people. and after extensive tripping, i realize i've wasted too much of my life in them already. being surrounded by 80-lb. blonde whores with bad fake tans and REALLY bad anchorwoman makeup is not very healthy for a tall, luscious redhead like me. as long as i'm outside doing fun stuff everyday, i don't care.

i went back to my old middle school the other day. holy. shit. i am so old. "WOW, JESSI, YOU'RE A YOUNG WOMAN NOW!", said all the teachers. yeah right. it seems i blinked in middle school and now i'm twenty. next time i blink, i'll be thirty.. and then.. ugh. it pains me to think of it.

i am the best barista in the whole world. i'm an espresso-slingin' latte machine. with cute bunny ears.

there are white peeps surrounding me. peeps are one of the most disgusting foods on the face of the planet. maybe if i eat twinkies and peeps every day as supplements, their plethora of preservatives will pickle my insides and help me to live forever.

wait, who wants to live forever? especially if the cost is to get horrendously fat from a diet consisting mainly of marshmallow and potassium sorbate.

the other day at work, because i was wearing pink bunny ears, a customer said to me "maybe there are pink bunnies in ireland". WHY? i have no clue. maybe it was meant to be a joke. but i sighed, pouted, and cooed "i WISH!"

...i mean you look different but you haven't changed.

i'm listening to "stand up" by dave matthews for the sole reason that the album illicits blissful memories of tripping balls on shrooms at north elementary with steve-o. how the trees melted around the black-top, not having to wait for a swing. playing for the first time in years. steve-o puked by the fence while i ran circles around the art trailer and peed under the ramp. i told him about how there used to be a big slide going down the hill, but it was too much fun so they removed it. the fort must have been too much fun as well; demolished in favor of a four foot long plastic tube with a bubble dome. we used those chairs with shovels built in which were forbidden for anyone over the age of 8. and boy, did i dig that gravel. the lights at mylan were gorgeous. at the time. i told steve-o my plans for the ultimate playground as we sat on the monkey bars which were by this time ridiculously too small for me or especially steve-o to garner any acrobatic pleasure from.

we left, and turned around when i realized i had left my platform flower sandal on the blacktop. a police suv, flashing berries and cherries waited for us. steve-o told me to get the sandal and let's go.

in the car in front of my house he said this was one of the best days of his life. i said "me, too" and "drive safe". i went inside, grabbed a sam adams summerbrew and sat on the porch to look at the stars and possibly watch the sun rise. the beer was the nectar of the gods in that moment. i couldn't imagine greater bliss. but i could, so i called bryan just to hear his voice.  he was sleeping when i called, but i said "bryan, i just had one of the most magical nights of my life!". he was unenthusiastic as anyone would be whose sleep was prematurely aborted. the conversation was short, and i wanted to touch him and transfer my memory to him a la jonas in The Giver. to feel my bliss. i wanted to touch him in general. but i said goodnite and sorry for waking you, and stared at the sky as i spilled the last of the lemony froth from the bottle down my throat and sighed.

and it wasn't so sad because we were all under the same stars.

im drinking some diet snapple that tastes way too sweet to have only five calories and smells suspisciously like heavily chlorinated poolwater.

god, im starving myself. the holidays are made to make people gain like five or ten pounds while lulled into a false sense of security by family, and then immediately feel like a fat, out of control cow. then they run to the store to buy all kinds of diet products.

im going on a media diet too. i need to stop watching TV and reading magazines. in the times where i'd go a month without watching TV i was markedly happier than i am now, for example, watching an average of two hours a day! what the hell. i have to stop. and write again.

but the weather has been lovely, and i've been taking advantage, today wearing a flowy ethereal white dress. anyway. BYE!

that was my total today for two magazines at kroger. i'm in suspended animation. several links on my stupid profile went dead and now the pictures won't show because i didn't pay for my account at whatever the fuck website they are hosted on. well, i will leave them there because i'm too lazy to fix them and they are a physical reminder of how hideous capitalism is. not that communism is good either. not that i am denouncing isms.

it's rainy, cold, and dark. i sorta want to go on a willful spiral out of control and drink a huge bottle of vodka in the park and pass out facedown in the creek.

but then i remember there are no cameras following me around and i think "no, maybe not".

now i remember.. i never needed a camera crew before.

my new year's resolution is to spend five days in the woods with me, myself, i, a camcorder, and a backpack full of magical mushrooms.

and not die.

oh god. best drinking game....EVER.

thanks rab, you're cute, you've seen shadow people, and you saw to it that everyone got totally TRASHED in a communal cult-like circle while screaming words in german accents.

rab also goes into total william wallace-mode when he gets drunk. "EVERY MAN DIES, BUT SOME MEN NEVER REALLY LIVE!". as he got progressively drunker, the quotes just got better, as did the faux scottish accent, laddie. now THAT's the kinda people i like to meet!

we also made snide remarks behind steve-o's back. but that was just the black label talking, steve-o wasn't even being [that much] of an asshole last night! WOAH! hold the phone!!! haha.

in FACT, me and steve-o were the only ones who stuck out the game of X-TREME OUTDOOR BEER PONG last night. we set up a makeshift beer pong arena with two end tables from inside. robbie and rab, our PARTNERS, wussed out to go provide some color commentary on the porch. ohh lord, i should have brought my camcorder.

when he totally should have been a pisces.

he isn't even near the cusp!

what the fuck, dude.

i'm hopin' to chill with neil young again tonight.

he's a scorpio.

last night i had a lucid dream about NEIL YOUNG.

what is going on?

it was AWESOME. he was like an angel.

i had a little baby girl, and i had no idea what to do. i totally did not want a baby.

neil young took me on a ride in an old white convertible. i asked him about elvis, and he told me all these stories. i asked him if he had ever met freddie mercury. he said "no, but i wish i had". his face lit up!

then we went walking in a snowy forest with hills and no trees. we talked about drinking cough syrup and laughed. i asked him to take me to canada with him when he left because i needed to get out.

he said i had to stay! he wanted to take me, but couldn't.

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and it's fading now,

fadin' away.

just a memory, without anywhere

to stay.