August 28, 2002 @ 11:10 p.m.
It's all about me, me, me

Rev is in a randomtastic, tell-all mood, so she is going to write a somewhat jumpy journal entry.

Rev is reading White Teeth by Zadie Smith about three years after she intended to. She is enjoying it immensely.

Rev is planning to part with some of her Bettie Page memorabilia collection, because some people are just worth that.

Rev has two nipples, one for each titty-boo, and on her right breast there's a mole with Aspirations of Nipplehood.

Rev's mind is constantly in the gutter. She has long since decided that that's where all the minds worth knowing dwell.

Rev has new neighbours on one side - the side her bedroom window faces out towards. So far the neighbours have seen her running around topless whilst getting ready to go out, and wandering around fully clothed but with her hands down her extremely loose pyjama pants. This is nothing, however, compared to the people who lived in that house before, who were lucky enough to bear full witness to the Naked Dance, the Semi-Naked Dance, the Oh Great, Where Have I Put My Pants This Time dance, and, um, Rev being on intimate terms with an upstanding young gentleman.

Rev's room has curtains. No, really.

Rev's neighbours on the other side are the crack-smokingest crack smokers who ever smoked crack.

Rev wants a parrot or other talking bird, so she can train it to say "I have big firm D-cup breasts and a hot throbbing eight inch cock, JUST FOR YOU!". She's already taught two of her housemates to say this and has found it quite amusing.

Rev lives with an oboe player. Currently the oboe player has lockjaw.

Yesterday Rev's boyfriend told her she is the female Fred Negro. It was, allegedly, a compliment.

Rev owes people letters. Real letters. Like on paper and everything. She finds this prospect quite exciting. Although motivation may be somewhat lacking.

Rev has become quite the expert at misappropriating company time. Although she's always open to suggestions.

Rev was brought up to believe that dead people were always talking to her and that whenever she was sad or depressed, it was because a bad spirit had attached itself to her. She reckons she must only attract the crazy and/or retarded ones these days.

Rev does not believe in getting her scattered thoughts together simply for the purpose of writing a coherent journal entry that people may actually want to read.

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