The side of my face hurts like I was punched by a cactus. Prick.
The Gasparilla Pirate Festival's Illuminated Parade otherwise known as Endless Floats with Cheap Beads That Will One Day Find Their Way into a Landfill If They Don't Gag the Shit Out of Some Stupid Dog That Eats Them or Choke a Random Baby with Idiot Parents Who Watch Too Much Jerry Springer and Not Enough Kid (too much, because everyone needs a LITTLE Jerry), was um.... fun this weekend, minus how heavy my karma has plummeted as a result of attending. One day they are not going to be able to make the plastic for those beads anymore. I hope they throw spaghetti instead. Two hours later, neck filled with sparkly precious baubles, we were hungry enough to eat a drag queen.
I wish that people could get that excited without gross amounts of waste (Bonnaroo, sigh) but I am pretty sure they can't, so, well, um, I guess I don't care either.
The side of my face aches like I have been poisoned by a lethal frog. Inject.
Nah. I care. I totally fucking care.
Consumers, I am generally afraid of you. You buy things you do not need. For prices, you cannot afford. In quantities, that are embarrassing.
You horde things like the Apocalypse will require coasters in blue, yellow AND green. I have stood witness as you scream, jump up and down, run over small children and kiss drunk strangers for one $0.05 plastic, lead-based painted set of beads most likely put together by children in China. You have learned nothing from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. And you sucked me into your tiny web of shiny, distracting trinkets and I swam. I swam the backstroke in the Hepatitis pool with Satan's environmentally oblivious children.
My soul's brightness... the horror. The horror.
The side of my face, ugh. Plunge.