Fact: I do not like the colour red.
Fact: I hate pens because I tend to make a lot of mistakes.
So why name it RiEnDk? Simple: It was dark at night when I was writing and this was the only utensil I could find at the moment. Karma? No, I am Karma. I’m the Karma Police.
I have my glasses in a Guess case, and it’s not mine. I hate Guess, but the other case broke. It was cheap. Obviously this one isn’t. I’ve been getting called Captain Obvious too much for my tastes, but the reason i state it is due to the fact there isn’t anything else to say. I always end up stuck with it. I should just change my name to Captain Obvious _______. Hah! I’d be COW. That’s great. I hate when people say, “is because,” or, “are because.” To me it doesn’t sound pretty at all. Then I overuse other phrases until that is forced upon me. Have you ever had a dog that licked your foot?
How about through a sock? Doesn’t feel pleasant, does it?
I stared off into space at a girl’s grey sweatshirt and thought the flowers on it were eyes. I woke up from this when something whispered, “Doctor,” in my ear. I don’t understand irrational fears. Okay, okay, being afraid of the silence & dark seem irrational, but I have my reasons.
Excuses, excuses.
Shut up. And clowns and dolls, my fears do not come without reason. But what about the people scared of heights, birds, spiders, rats, etc? I don’t understand the fear without reason. Where’s the reason behind a fear of bugs? They’re easy to kill with your hands, so why be afraid?
I’m afraid of bees because I was stung by 5 as a small child.
I’m afraid of the dark & silence because I see people and they talk to me. 
I’m afraid of clowns because one pet me. 
I’m afraid of dolls because one pushed a lamp onto my head. 
When I imagine things, it’s in cartoon. I want to skydive & look like a fried egg on the ground. On the bus, the girl next to me made the whole heated bus smell like the boy’s bathroom. Why do people walk so slowly? It’s not that I have anywhere to go, really, I just can’t stand the slow people. Or clay pots. Spray tans & tanning beds in the dead of winter do not look “good” or “hot.” They look unnatural. Tanning isn’t good for you, either. What’s the point of wasting money on that crap? YOU. DO NOT. LOOK. GOOD. It makes me want to line them up and shoot them like glass bottles.
Gym seemed interesting. I forgot my pants. I walked out in skin tight, pinstriped jeans & RD didn’t notice. People ran today and G. Willikers was almost too girly to run. Star turned to me and glared. I meant it, no offence. Then the Turtle ran, and Turtle ran like this
for serious. Cancer as a child, arthritis or something. Apparently Pantera had a dream about looking for a house and Gandalf or w/e from LOTR (which I hate) told him that the only way to get a house is to find a midget w/ no arms. I said that I should just chop my arms off and tell him he could get his house now. 
I have a plan to kill the ignorant people. I haven’t gotten too far, but it seems like a good idea. First, you shoot the people. Then, burn them and render the fat. Use the fat to make soap. (consult Fight Club for the how to) Give the soap to third world countries. Start using dead bodies for energy. I think I care more about everything else rather than people or my country. Then again, I think everyone’s screwed/
I don’t think there’s a point to life. If we’re just some planet created randomly, and spontaneous gasses formed molecules and started life (pardon my horrid bio skills & memory), there isn’t a point. People still search for it & mask the truth with religion. I hate organized religion, but I honor you if you believe. I can’t, myself. I’m fickle, as it were.
A parallelogram has two children with another parallelogram.
A rectangle and rhombus are the kids, who have kids.
Their child is a square. 
I’m imagining Pink Ladies in their 80’s having tea when hamsters w/ machine guns and grenades come in and start killing them. 
They’re screaming. Then rabid monkeys fly in and rip their heads off. 
This is in the middle of the jungle. Then the kids from Golding’s Lord of the Flies come in, chasing a boar, and eat the carnage. The hamsters prevail, build a rocket and colonize the moon. The cows come with weapons and it’s universal space warfare. Humans were killed by Mexican penguins. 
I’m close to stabbing the girls behind me. They won’t SHUT UP! I want to stab their throats with a needle, inject gasoline & light them up.
Apparently PM was looking at my chest, says Crinky. I felt like slapping PM, but I decided not to. No need to cause a fuss. I also felt like beating PM over the head w/ a baseball bat, but there aren’t any in the room. I would have to had use a chair. Oh well. PM just reminded me of a mechanical monkey. It was odd. I almost want to rip of Las Vegas’s fingers, all seven of them. Vegas’ll be among the first ignoramuses to be shot, burned & rendered into fat for the third world countries. Maybe I’ll give Vegas to lesbians. That would be funny. I just watched the clock turn into a stick figure with a top hat & cane. it stabbed PM in the eye. I laughed.
I want to do a Can-Can or Russian thing.
I walked into my bots’ closet the other day looking for the ¡Venganza! vest, and I was looking in the boxes on the top when I stopped. I found a clear dildo. Apparently, it was water based. I left the closet shortly afterwards. I told G. Willikers this & Gangsta (G.) had a plan. G. said to make a note on it saying, “This is for you, Tom. From: Luverboi xoxo <3” and place it on the toilet in the men’s bathroom in the mall. G. also said to clean the finger prints off in the toilet. We’d use the soap from the dispensers. Rinse cycle would be flushing. Dry cycle would be the hand-dryers. Washing would make a WOSHA WOSHA sound. Somehow an old lady & man will be in there. The lady will insist it’s someone falling in. The man will insist it’s a dildo. A third person will insist it’s both & a couple having sex. Or an old man will ask if everything is okay. G. or I will insist it is. Wosha wosha. He will be freaked after 5 minutes, get a mall cop, & he will say, “Come out, dildo in hand. Only dildo’s make that noise!”
Jewboy showed Penguin their underwear. Sexual harassment anyone?
The boy in the wheelchair just wheeled along…
Everything was spoken in French. I hardly know French, but the class was speaking it for a few seconds. They hardly know French, too.
We have to write a story if we’re in the Deep South during the Great Depression. I hate historical fiction. I really do. I’m going to get horrible people in my group. 2 is not a pretty #. Yep. I was stuck with halfway brain-dead, pot smoking fools. Once again.
I’m going to get a failing grade because no one in this group cares. A C+ is amazing to them. It’s punishment to me. Two worlds collide in class and I can’t understand them. Stupidity is accepted and smarts thrown away. Lovely world. Lovely.
I’m trembling again. I just yelled at an ignorant kid & fought with a friend about gay rights. I’m so annoyed at people. I want to walk out. But I won’t. I’m pretending. An actor in a never ending film. I want the film to end or the other parts canceled. Crinky is very two-faced. I will talk about that later…maybe.
I still love Pablo. Almost a year, and I still do. It was an imprint on my mind, like a brand.
People are people You and I should get along
So why should it be
So awfully?
or something. Mrs. Face would look pretty, but it’s Mrs. Face’s face. It’s wither the face of the body. The tube of red ink looks like a vile of blood…not red enough, though. Like a dying person. Anemic. The can feel the ball when I draw on myself. 
Do you know the enemy? Know your enemy. 
The trees are supposed to have white flowers, but they’re sea-foam green against the grey sky. Its almost as if they’re glowing in the dark. Celebrate good times, come on! 
When girls are… it reminds me of picking a nose or treasure hunting. Maybe if someone could crawl though it would be a magic land with forests, pixies, sunshine & girliness. Like the Fitzwilliam on the 
Nasal is a nose singing corn like…badly. It drives me insane. Not swearing is harder than it appears. It’s an addiction of the voice. I felt like tromping around the class as if I were upon a horse, 
and I figured it out. Soon. People need to stop calling me Vicki. Now more than ever they are and I have no idea why. But they won’t take my feelings into consideration because their own. Swallow it! SWALLOW IT! I was trembling this morning. I’m a tremblin’ again. My security was breeched because I left this open. Of course I leave it open for someone to read, but it’s violated. My life is an open book now, open with blood for all to see. I knew it would happen. But the line read…The line. I didn’t really think anyone would read it. I honestly didn’t. It’s different when I share it on purpose, but…it’s stealing. Mrs. Sloopy stole my mind, a part of it. Will Mrs. Sloopy understand? I feel naked again. What makes something right or wrong? Polite or impolite? It all seems so trivial to me. The bus smells like a glue bottle. My pants look like a 
