I’m weird. I purposely make typos.
Sometimes I pick my nose when no one’s looking.
Sometimes I go nearly five weeks without wearing shoes.
I never go outside.
I live alone in a nine-hundred thousand dollar condo that doesn’t belong to me.
I hate art.
I love key lime pie.
I haven’t had sex in over a year.
Guns turn me on. But I hate them.
I want to die of cancer.
The first thing I do in the morning is check is my blog and see how many people looked at it. Usually there’s only about 200 views. 150 of which were from me checking to see if anyone made any comments. If there are 3 or more comments, I’m happy for the rest of the day. This false sense of importance is enough to keep my self-esteem perfect. If there’s less than three comments, I usually cry while endlessly spamming my web address anywhere and everywhere I can.
I want to get married five or six times just for new last names.
II’m obsessed with the album Astro-Creep 2000 by White Zombie.
I hate celebrities more than you could ever imagine.
I barely ever eat.
I read too much.
I’m insanely narcissistic.
I weigh exactly 115 pounds.
I love lasagna.
I’m obsessed with taking pictures of myself.
I’ve broken 8 out of ten commandments.
I edit my blog obsessively.
I love the dark.
A pretty train wreck.
I have two masters degrees.
I prefer candlelight.
I hate shopping.
I love celery.
My parents are famous.
I have a delusional sense of self worth.
I spend countless hours surfing the web, reading books, playing video games, watching Pawnstars on TV (that’s the only show that I ever watch.) I hate it.
The only real legitimate responsibility I have is feeding my cat and the only time I ever really leave my house is when I change the cat box.
The first thing I do after waking up is take a two hour bubble bath .
I only Tweet when I’m naked.
I drink like 12 Coke zeros everyday.
I hate wearing makeup.
I take my writing very seriously.
I smoke a pack of cigarettes a day.
I don’t believe I’ll ever live past the age of 35.
Sometimes when I’m putting on deodorant I realize the irony I wonder why I even bother…why does a recluse need to smell nice?
I have no bills in my name, no electric bill, no rent, no car payment.
I’m weird. I pulousely make tyops. Sometimes I pick my nose when no one’s looking. Sometimes I go nearly five weeks without wearing shoes. I never go outside.