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October 16, 2006

El Fugtante

Holaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa (yawn) aaaaaaaa.

Dios mio, I'm groggy. I do not know WHY. But I am having such a hard time keeping my eyes open. Mark told me I look muy sexy when I can't lift my eyelids. This was right after he made me play Interview With A Vampire again but I am so BORED with that game, so this time, instead of running away like always, I just let him bite me in the neck so that he would stop BREATHING on me already and let me get back to watching Ugly Betty (which is some show about Salma Hayek's life -- it's sort of funny but Salma doesn't even WEAR glasses so I don't think it's very ACCURATE, which I would never allow because I respect people's stories and that is why I wore all of those spandexy things that Selena used to wear when I did that movie and there were NO GLASSES ANYWHERE and THAT, Salma, is the kind of ARTIST I am).

Anyway, after he bit me I felt so tiiiiired, amores, and I didn't even care anymore whether Salma got her eyebrows waxed any more. Then Mark started telling me how beautiful I am when the blood drains out of my face and that it makes me look like this sexy zombie lady, and then he got all excited and started measuring me and kissing his Home Depot card. He said he was making me a new bed as a surprise. Good. Maybe I can take a NAP on it when it gets here instead of having to fold my arms on my chest so he can see how tall I am when I'm on my back. BORING.

Ayyyy. I'm getting a little bit ... tired of him, you know? Don't get me wrong, he is my skinny toothpick prince of bones, and we spend our days making beautiful music and sunproofing the windows and I am VERY HAPPY. But... well, I was so INTERESTING before. Back when I was wearing sweatbands and pigtails, or making that Ben drink Ultra Slim Fast laced with laxatives so that he didn't look all blown up like a parade float any more. Those were nice times. He may not have showered very much at first but at least he didn't smell like formaldehyde. (That's a mouthwash my Mark uses to take his medicine. He told me it's custom-made, so I can't have any, although after he ate my neck the other night I caught him clapping his hands and squealing that now he could finally put some in the salad dressing. He is WEIRD, mamacitas). I wonder if it's too late for me and Ben. I could take that Farmer thingy he married -- maybe I could just put her in a little cage in the basement.

Nooooooooo (yawn) I don't feel like it. I have no energy, amores. I don't FEEL like grabbing her by the hair and dragging her to the dumpster. I don't WANT to sit there and look at Ben's hair plugs and their dumb Vile Aflac or whatever it is called. Maybe I will go home and break some Alias DVDs. Although Mark might not be awake yet -- he doesn't like to get up before 6 p.m. -- and if I'm there when he gets up I'll have to play a game and I am NOT IN THE MOOD to pretend to run away from "Baron von Nibblehaus" or whatever other stupid nickname he picks out. I will have to hide in my mirrored closet again. He never comes to find me in there. Phew. Good plan.



Posted by Heather at 02:34 PM in Jennifer Lopez | Permalink


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