I just realized Rob Zombie's birthday is a day after mine. Kind of funny considering I was in love with him when he first came out as a solo artist in like '98. The tattoos, the horror movie fascination, the hair, the clothes, those boots. He is basically the perfect man. I still have that album somewhere since I stole it from my brother. I was so cool back in the day, seriously. I think I need to start being a bitch. I wish I could eat pizza with sracha(sp?) chili sauce and cherry soda for the rest of my life. Turning nineteen doesn't seem that exciting, birthdays aren't exciting at all. I need to do something with my life, I'm disatisfied with how things turn out about 78% of the time. What the fuck, why do I still even live at home? I'm living a lie. I hate all you stoners and your silly weed. And I hate your opiate smoking habits that leave me with the foily after-taste and a five minute high that just gets me giggly and drinking more than I ought to. My rambling is done.