2005-03-28 - 9:31 p.m.
Courtney's writing this paper on Annie Sprinkle and she checked out all these books about her. I'm like an eight-year-old who just found all the Penthouses in dad's dresser. I'm simultaneously fascinated and disgusted by all the visuals. I keep screaming, "Oooohhhhhh, ewwwwwwwww, oh GODDDDDDDDDDD" periodically and Courtney's like, "Stop looking!" And I'm like, "But I can't help it--and I didn't expect to see cervix!!! Cervix!!!!" And there are all these pictures of Annie Sprinkle naked covered in sand and stuff and I hate pictures of naked people, like, covered in sand or dirt or other worldly, nature-y things (this includes leaves, grass, any sort of peat moss, or vine-ripe tomatoes). It totally fucking grosses me out. I don't care if you're Heidi Goddamned Klum and you're, like, rolling on a beach in a string bikini with fucking sand everywhere and you're holding a stack of one million one dollar bills and you're beckoning to me to take them and you're also holding a gallon jug of Maker's Mark and a very large burrito. I would still vomit on you cuz it's gross to cover your naked body in sand and stuff. Fucking Gross.
I really want to move to Chicago and hang out with everyone. I miss everyone.
