I'm open to Falling from Grace...

It is a nasty Monday, indeed.

Apparently, we're in slow season at the Exchange. Not much for any of us to do today. This bothers me not. There's much I would like to play around with today. Mainly I'm researching makeup for my part.

Haley's Departure--T-minus 4 days. Very Sad, indeed.

My first New York show--T-minus 4 days. Very Interesting, indeed.

Sorry I didn't call you back yesterday, Ashlee. I was pooped out from a day of doing absolutely nothing.

I thought it was weird when Mom called me and acted pissed that I hadn't called to wish her a Happy Easter sooner. That's so weird. We've never been a religous family, but still Mom acts like it's somehow blasphemous to not acknowledge Easter. I think it's just another Sunday. Be pissed that I haven't called recently, don't be pissed because I didn't call on Easter. For real, woman. I think the deaths and resurrections of the Taylor women have the Holy Family beat. And we do it with cramps once a month. Take that, Jesus. [ed note: with the exception of Mama, who is missing her crampy parts]

We are entering Spring, finally [the season, not the girl]. Maybe that's why the loins have been a-burnin'. At least that's what I tell myself.

Spring [the girl, not the season] mentioned something about how I'm viewed as the Innocent of the Degenerates. Which is one of many reasons why my behavior is so amusing. Ah well. I'm just making up for lost time. I had been saying I wanted to go through a Slutty Period, since I spent 22 years being a Pretty Good Girl. Well, I guess this is it.

I will fuck you. And then I will fuck your friends.

Ooops. But I have curly hair and I'm pretty so it's easily forgiven.

But enough of that. My life has reached Epic Comic Proportions, and I have resigned myself to the fact that I am the girl you come to when you want to hear about crazy drunken behavior. Oh, I got stories...

Chloe on Saturday: "Your life is so crazy. It's like a novel."

Funny how Sleazy always says his life is like a novel. His chapter on me I guess would have to be a novel within a novel. The Chapter of Us would be like Anna Karenina of Sexual Politics. I just wonder who's going to throw themselves in front of the train first. My money's on Sleazy.

It's easy to blame the booze. It's harder to blame a lustful constitution. Genetic predisposition to Extreme Horniness.

That's us Taylor women. Death and Resurrection and Extreme Horniness and the Mayors of the Land of Bad Ideas. We'll give you a key to the city--it's actually a condom.

The more simple pleasures of the weekend:

--haircut--oh, how I love when they shampoo your hair. It's like a brain massage.
--pot and pizza--just as good as pizza and beer
--sunshine--though when I stepped outside, it had been so long since I had seen the sun, I forgot what it would be like. Vampira feels a little discombobulated.
--my bed. Alone in it [with the exception of Thursday]
--sleeping 12 hours. And I could do it again.
--laughing with Daniel about the absurdity of seeing a child inside a grocery cart and wheeling himself around like he was in a wheelchair. Kindred Spirits make for good sight-seeing.
--a hot shower on a lazy Sunday. Good for the soul, I say.

The next two weeks should be pretty insane. Please keep all hands and feet inside. It's all fun and games until someone loses a limb.

Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can't we drink forever?
I just want to start this over.

I am just a worthless liar.
I am just an imbecile.
I will only complicate you.
Trust in me and fall as well.

--Tool

Now I have to go take a spelling test. Wish me lukk.