Honestly, the only thing better would be if they opened an In n’ Out and a Rubio’s here too. A Krystal Chick is what I want for my birthday, friends. And for Christmas. A Krystal fucking Chick.

I’m full of bile and badness right now. That’s why I used the word “fucking,” for the first time ever on encantada today. Bile and blasphemy and frustration and impotence. Work. My stomach; I’m actually feeling it churn with hot air at present.

My high score is 24 meters. How’d you do?

I’m really really really wanting and needing to get real skinny. Real real skinny. I can say that here because I never ever will, but I’d fkking love to. And I think about it all the time. Problem is, I have all the habits of someone who’ll never ever get real real skinny. The constant no sleeping, the easy boredom, the no energy, the total reliance on caffeine, the short attention span, the self-medicating, the spiky-heeled shoes, the dear relationship with certain forms of alcohol, the small lung capacity, the frustration, the easy quitting, the self-indulgence, the moment-by-moment collecting of millions of little luxuries, the …. daydreaming. I feel like I know so many people who can commit to the long-term goal. Who actually “train.” I think they’re seriously OCD and many of them self-righteous. But I’m also jealous.

I’m actually laughing at myself now. How funny. Here’s something right along my lines, right about my speed: culled by the Thin Reaper.

I finally saw Annie Hall this past weekend, and I’m so glad that I finally did. It’s like I get it now, I understand what the intent is for the medium. I was reminded of people I used to know. It was interesting.