Dad told me yesterday that I looked fat. He's so sensitive, isn't he? I suppose my recent junk binges have paid off. The cosmos proved his point, as I split one of the back pockets on my (admittedly fairly shitty) pants earlier today by putting my hand in it. Why can't my fat go somewhere useful, like my cheekbones or lips or hair follicles to make my hair more shiny and lustrous? My butt has passed bubble territory, and has hit a J.Lo-esque shape.

Just to make myself feel better, I finished Flesh and Blood by Michael Cunningham, possibly the most depressing book ever.

I'm killing myself. Well, I will tomorrow. Tonight I'm getting drunk!

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posted by Dawei at 5:56 pm