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What Sort of Romantic Are You?
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Good thing the questions in that quiz totally didn't apply to me. Heh. But I do consider myself a realist. So hey, it all works out in the end, kids!

I'd have to put on pants, for that. . .

Which woman of Shakespeare are you?
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I hate when the S/O questions don't have "single" as an option. But heh, to the Eminem answer on the "which song is your theme song" question. Because it totally is. That, and maybe "No More Drama" by Mary J. Blige. I'm so tragic! Hee.

So, I've totally been getting my bitch on, lately. Like, giving girls dirty looks, for no reason. Heh. Well, sometimes there's a reason. Just not very good ones. Like, this chick that walked past me at the mall, yesterday. It was like sixty degrees out, and rainy. Everyone was wearing sweaters, and jackets. Meanwhile, these two skanky hos walk past me, with their fake-ass bleached blonde hair (not tastefully highlighted, like mine, thank you very much. Hee) and their hip hugger, camel-toe action, jeans, and boobtastic tanktops, with the bare midriff goin' on. Oh, and heels. And they're all swaying their hips, walking past me, giving me that head-to-toe judging look, that females give. Like "Hmph. I'm better than you." So, of course, I gave her my "Don't look at me, like you think you know me, bitch!" look. Like "Yeah, I'm short, and my hair looks like Hell. Want to make somethin' of it?" I was ready to throw down with this ho-bag, I tells ya. Hee. I'm finding the image of me goin' oompa on those bitches very amusing, by the way. Especially with the added feature of them crying afterward, and Lupe walking up to throw them in her trashcan. Oh, and of course the guy I've been lusting after at work would've witnessed all of this, and fallen madly in love with me. So he then could walk up, and be all "Have my children?" And then we would have. Heeeee.

My mind is a very entertaining place. Heh. Man, I have to do a bunch of shit today, and I'm all about sitting around and being lazy right now. Damn. And I like how "a bunch of shit to do" is, like, going to three different places. And two of them are up the street. I'm all "Sigh! You mean, I have to get out of my pajamas?!" Heh. Oh, it's an exciting life I lead!

Stupid, rebellious hair!

My hair's been possessed by Cesar Chavez, I tell you. Well, no, that's only rebellious. Need something evil. Perhaps the Devil? Yeah, we'll go with that. I've got Beelzebub, sittin' on my head. Fuckin' whack-ass hair, yo. I need to get back to my stylist, so she can throw some holy water on it, or whatever the Hell it is that she does to tame the beast in it. It keeps doing its stupid wavy, poof thing. My lovah (the flat iron, but of course) can't even control it now. Well, it does, but then I leave the house, and it's like "Oh, vat is dat? You vant to leave your house, looking good? Nice try, bitch! Muahahaha!"

Hmm, so, other than that, I brought my pants to the cleaners today. Yay! And got my birthday shoppin' on, at Borders and Rite Aid. Booyah! Hee. Let's hear it for being productive!

Now, I'm gonna go pack, and go over to my Dad's house. I may or may not be back, between now and Sunday evening. Muah!