I'm wondering if any of you people out there would be willing to shave off your bush and let me take a crotch shot, not wide open beaver or full sausage (unless that's what you want) just a nice straightforward shot. I've been obsessed with this George W. Bush and pubic hair thing for a while, what a nice peaceful but upfront way to protest.
I'm envisioning a room full of hairless crotches. Maybe I could save all the pubic hairs and light them on fire in front of the Washington monument (that sounds a bit unsanitary though). You know I think this is the first time I've shaved my cunt just to remove all reference to the word bush from my body. I feel so clean. Tomorrow it might be itchy but for now I feel clean. I'm willing to suffer a bit for that disassociation.

I seem to be facing the same dilemma as Mike. Do I have what it takes to get up at 8:30 and protest our fucking shithead of a president? I'm so tired right now. Do I have what it takes to remove my own personal bush as a symbol of my resistance? I'd like to think so but then I'd like to be indifferent as well and pretend that I live in my on little world and all these organized fuckers don't matter but thats hard to do when people are sending me pictures of dead babies in Iraq.
I'm sick of these bush pop ups on MY home computer. They invade my space. That ugly white dude, what a symbol. Well, I have almost a whole pack of cigarettes thanks to Soyeon. That should help with getting me out of bed in the morning.

I slept all day and missed the last day of the show at city hall. I'm such an idiot sometimes. Soyeon is the best. She took me out for dinner last night because we were so hungry and I'm so poor right now.
I'll be shipped back to GA pretty soon if I can't find a job for the summer. It's not that I don't love my family it's just that I don't like them that much, except my little niece, Kiah, I missed her the most. She is three years old now and smart as a whip even though her daddy is a jailbird with three nipples. My sister is sending me a carton of smokes in exchange for some baby-sitting in the future.
I was in my first year of college when my sister got pregnant. One time she called me to talk about baby names. I was so bad back then. I worked in the High museum pushing the elevator button to do my part in helping herd the crowd of suburbanites who'd come to see prints by Norman Rockwell up to the third floor. I had to click a counter as each person walked by. Usually during my lunch break I would walk half a block over to my dorm room and get stoned and listen to Mr. Marley and The Wailers, so when I returned to work I would pace in eyes glazed circles singing "Lord, I gotta keep on moving, Lord, I gotta get on down." It helped me with getting my 8 bucks an hour. My supervisor George Boozer, a middle-aged man in a suit, was always hitting on me. I thought he was gross but funny. He was demoted after 9/11 which made me sad because he'd been working there for 40 years when I worked there.
Well, on the day my sister called to talk baby names I was listening to a song titled Kaya. I love that song. It's optimistic. My sister told me she was thinking of naming the baby Kayleen I was like "Hell no, name the baby Kaya" and she did but she changed the spelling, silly lady. I think it's funny I named my niece after herb. Could that be why I love her so much?
I've got 6 dollars to last until Tuesday right now. How am I going to make that work out? If anyone wants to invite me to dinner I will gladly accept. I love eating. My belly proves it.