Stream of Conciousness


I'm in the mood to write. I'm bored, and my mind is moving a thousand miles an hour. I have this urge to write, but the thing is, I don't know what to write about. I just sat here staring at this box for a spell, trying to come up with something profound. Nothing. I decided to just start typing, and go stream of conciousness style.

Right now, the most foremost thing is the Blogger logo is pissing me off. So orange and smug, up there in the corner. A little up from that is my cat, she's going bald along her sides. I don't know why, no fleas, she's healthy as a horse. My mom claims it's radiation because the cat spends 20 hours a day on my moniter. Poor kitty.

Now there's a car alarm going off at the bar. I hate living across the street from a bar. It's a seedy one, too. I mean, it looks pretty on the outside, but the clientele SUCKS. Union Beach is about as hilbilly as you can get, and still be on the Jersey Shore. That bar is like, hillbilly concentrate. Fights every weekend, people having full blown domestic disputes right in the parking lot (and often it carries over into our front yard). Karaoke every Thursday. This would be the perfect neighborhood, if it weren't for the bar.

It's amusing. I see a lot of the same people drunk, staggering, screaming at each other, making a scene across the street, as I do on weekday afternoons, in the "kindergarten mom" crowd. Even more amusing, a lot of these women are the ones that were nasty uppity bitches in elementry school. The teasers, the in crowd, the beautiful girls. I see them now, and I feel good. They have bad skin, and cheap clothes. They have dark roots and peroxide blond highlights.

I endured seemingly infinite amounts of torture and ostrasizing when I was a kid. I'm a strong and sensitive person now, because of it. They doled out the torture and look. They're what? Sloppy drunk white trash welfare messes? Karma, it's so nice. Do I sound bitter? I'm not, really. Maybe a little, but it's not a defining thing in my life. I'm no swan, but, it feels a little good to see them walking places when I can drive. To see them working in fast food resturaunts. I wonder what their 12 year old selves would say to them now. I bet it wouldn't be pretty