with their soft soft hands…

 

To quote one of my profound and creative favorites:

words words words words.

words?

words!

wordsy words words words sauce words.

OK, SO HE DIDN’T HAVE SAUCE.

but i love sauce.

put it on my titties.

KIDDING.

or not.

anyway, hi. *wishes for an icon with a little smiling face and a happy waving hand*

bored.

doing some stuff with my writing.

I haven’t done any Nano writing yet, but I have allll day.

At work: 4 more hours.

at least 2 of which will not be consumed by work AT ALL.

anyway, words.

stupid words.

punch their paunchy faces I will!

then i’ll kiss them long on their swollen lips and they’ll cry tears that mix with blood, so salty it raises your blood pressure and then you have to lay down in the dark with them and let the words cover your body with their soft soft hands.

huh what?

my thoughts can get away from me sometimes.

I’m supposed to weigh myself today.

ME NO WANNA.

I don’t think I’ve done well on my diet this week, or maybe I have. who knows!

I HAVE been taking my blood pressure pills.

so I should get a sucker punch or something.

ha ha sucker punch.

what if it was a punch (the drink) that tasted like suckers?

I used to LOVE going to the parties my family threw when I was a kid. The’d make these big glass bowls of red punch with scoops of rainbow sherbert on top.

OMIGA SO GOOD!

I haven’t had that in ages. I don’t even know of anyone who makes it anymore.
it sucks that my dad started hating his family and we didn’t go to any more family events after I was like 8 years old.

 

My dad is a grump.

No wonder I’m a grump!

but he loves his family and his church, so at least there is that.

I sorta miss my dad already, even though I saw him a few weeks ago.

He’s just so LITTLE and OLD and it’s weird.

My daddy is supposed to be big and strong and live forever. I remember being a tiny kid and climbing all over him on his shoulders and across his back and he’d say "I’m not a jungle gym!" but he’d let me climb anyway. And he loved to tell the story of how, after I was born, I was so small I could fit in the palm of his hand (I was a premie) and how I would only stop crying when he put me on his shoulder and walked around.

ACK CRYING AT WORK.

I love my crazy daddy.

I’m gettin ga bad feeling, if I’m honest. A "vibe" if you will. I’m worried.

I need to see him soon.

Thanksgiving is so far away.

WHA TTH EHELL, STOP BEING SO DEPRESSING.

ugh.

hi.

frozen pizza. ftw. (lunch)

This entry was brought to you by words: used 15 times in the entry for your pleasure.

I want a pancake.

 

 

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  Last Words (A zombie apocalypse survival diary, for your reading pleasure and future knowledge when they take over the world. Yes, I am the author.)