Saturday night, 10:30 pm.
I’m depressed sitting on my sofa in fake eyelashes, wearing house of holland garter tights and a day old blowout. I just ordered spaghetti and meatballs from seamless web, asking for “A LOT OF KETCHUP PLEASE” in the Notes section, and if they don’t bring it i’ll be upset. I fucking love ketchup. Sometimes I don’t eat hamburgers around people I’m trying to impress because I require a lot of ketchup when eating meat. I’m the asshole who will order ketchup for steak at a fancy steakhouse. I just like sauces a lot in general. When I used to eat McDonalds I would love to have an array of sauces for my chicken nuggets, which made me feel rich – sweet n sour, bbq, and ketchup. McDonalds has a really good sweet n sour sauce, unlike Burger Kings’, which tastes like pineapple. Anyways, I’m sitting on my couch obsessively watching Breaking Bad and wondering if I would hook up with Jesse Pinkman. I didn’t really think he was attractive until I saw a scene of him wearing a Jack O’ Lantern shirt and thought it was cute for some reason. I don’t like short guys or blondes though. I like mexican moustaches.
Got my delivery, there was no ketchup. I’m managing better than I had expected.
I think I was a felid in my past life… a leopard, lion, tiger, panther, ocelot, jaguar, or domestic cat perhaps. I feel such a strong bond with cats. My favorite yoga pose is the cat pose. I love to arch my back. I love to stretch out. I love to straight lamp. I like to climb across peoples laps and lay in them. I also say “meow” a lot, which is weird, but it just comes out. I was obviously an adorable persian kitten or siberian tiger in a palace. It’s very clear that I was a luxurious animal. Not some dumpster alley way kitten who couldn’t afford kitty litter. I probably had my own kitty litter named after me called, “precious rocks.” Which also became the name of my meth business. I seemed like I was a normal baby tiger who had it all, but I would make my way to the bad part of the jungle to sling meth to the giraffes and rhino’s in Kenya. All of the other members of my family were catching on; the panthers, the jaguars, and unfortunately the head Lion, Chuma (I googled African names for inspiration. Chuma means wealth). Chuma was the king of the jungle and an OG gangster. Chuma fucked up Mufasa on his first day at his new jungle school, and put that Disney bitch in his place real quick. Chuma said, “there’s a new lion king in town,” and scratched him across the face. Chuma also used to tap the Narnia lion but sent her back to hang out in a wardrobe with a witch and a creepy gay centaur because they ended on bad terms.
So Chuma caught me slinging meth as a young tiger kitten in Kenya and told me I had to give him all the profits AND dance in Thailand for money at a strip club as an underage tiger. I was kidnapped there by a British prince, who took me by sail boat to Russia and wrapped me in a little silk blanket and wished upon a star I would be a Polish-Russian girl one day named Chelsea.
Here I am.