26 August 2005

dear diary part I

Dear Diary,
The other night I dreamt I was in a park with Kate, and I was horrified because she had the hair of Frida Kahlo (the awful one when she cut her hair out of frustration because of that horny fool she called a husband). But that was all I remembered. Next thing I know I was scrambling to get off the bed and force myself to freshen up for another lovely class. Meh.

You would be glad to know, however, that I've been practicing my harmonica. The results are not quite what I've expected. Nah, I'm beginning to sound better, but my lips and teeth hurt. I feel like I've had lip implants, it's awful. But hey, anything in the name of musicality, baybee.

And lastly, dear diary, I would just like to tell you that I am not at all pleased whenever I see Cueshe-or-whatever-you-call-them on television, or even hear them on the radio. They reek of, ah, I don't know how to put it --- testosterone, maybe? It's like seeing male strippers Masculados try their hand at rock music. Please relieve me of that eyesore.

Love,
Kristella
(or Krisel or Tella or any of my other aliases muahaha)