Shopping is hell, punk is dead

Taken at Forever 21, in Woodland Hills. I was very hungover.

Test

This totally a test to see if I can blog mobile.

Dear Miss Backer,

Your two items that were the entirety of your purchase are as follows:

1. Ground Turkey (probably for burgers)
2. Cat Litter (probably for a littler box)

The original color of your hair was peaking out of your scalp, most likely to be taken care of before the next night you took those two well manufactured mounds more commonly called breasts out on the town. (My teachers would call that a run on sentence; it would be hell to diagram.) Your purse was large enough to fit 6 gold bars and probably cost 3. I saw you drive away in your H3, with its H3 license plate frame, just in case some one didn't notice the H3 symbol above the other H3 symbol. You drove over two double yellow lines to go about your business, I did too.

I imagine you at home now, yoga pants and sports bra. Your hair is up in a bun, your cat is curled up next to a fireplace, or a wall heater. Turkey, uncooked. Cat box, unfilled. Text messages on an Iphone plan some future night of possible infidelity, for someone. A throw pulled over your feet and a bottle of smartwater sits on the end table. Are you smarter than a 5th grader? Yes. Yes, you are.

this time last year

Last year, this day, the 8th day of February, I was freaking out. Freezing on the inside and outside. I'm still freaking out, but in different ways. I want to write more, but I got wrapped up in archives and have to go to work. School starts tomorrow, its been raining.

Lately when I get upset (read: wanting to punch or cry) I clean. The kitchen gets it first, then the living room. I leave the bedroom alone. Strange.