I leave you alone for a minute and you veer off into the soft fancy acoustic guitar crap the 70s. Do not want.

ETA If you’re gonna play weird acoustic shit, Starfuckers is the way to go.

Or however you spell that. Flight booked. Cab driver found who will hual us anywhere for less than the shuttle guys. It’s all good.

Now Lizzie must take some deep breaths and chill the fuck out. And then pack like a mad woman.

southwest’s site is down and it’s the only way to book the cheap seats.

why can’t i put a crying emoticon in my blog posts. Oh yeah. Because this ain’t live journal.

Hey Salon. Hey NY Times. How about instead of the hand wringing about how different the poor are from everyone else, you ask one.

Or two. Or 20.

But for fucks sake stop using your assy Regan stereotypes to show the difference. I’m fucking poor as dirt. I’ve never met a Welfare Queen and I’ve been poor all my life. I lived in the ghetto for almost a decade. Never saw one there. All I saw was people trying everything they could to get by, same as you, but with less opportunity to do something to powerfully change their lives.

But once again, with feeling MIDDLE CLASS VALUES DON’T SOLVE POVERTY. Poverty isn’t a moral or ethical failing. You really want to end poverty, hand over the cash. Period. Everything else is abstinence only education.

UP FUCKING DATE YALL

so thanks to two lovely godless whores I’m at 700 bucks. I’m trying to book a slightly pricier flight that leaves tomorrow, but southwest’s site is made of lose.

Thank you thank you thank you

So far I’ve got $150 in donations. Sweet!

If i fly Southwest and risk fatty shaming/ seat denying then I can get us out of here on Wednesday for $360 plus $75 for the cat.

I still am stuck on the $176 shuttle to get us from dante’s 9th circle of rural hell to Orlando.

So that’s $611 needed minus $150

I need $461 to get out of here. Not a huge amount, but it seems like a mountain at the moment and my strength is dwindling. You only have so much useful adrenaline in you to get through crisis shit before your body just says “fuck you”. And my body is at the fuck you stage. Thanks you traitorous skin bag.

so that it.

$461 and counting.

ETA: Are you wishing you could give but think paypal is the work of the devil? How about a Southwest Giftcard instead?

How about warming up with this topless lady radiator.Double bonus points that she’s headless, armless and legless.

The Slits lead singer, Ari Up, has died at age 48.

I saw her perform her reggae punk rock a few years ago at a dive in Seattle. She was magnificent. A weird combo of joy and aggression that I found very appealing. To be that forceful but still positive is a unique trait.

Say you’re a rich person who has everything. I mean you pretty much stole everything, or you inherited stuff that was stolen. But either way, what you’ve got is more than enough resources to afford a damn furnace.

But maybe you wanna make like you’re one of the little peeps. Maybe you’ve always had a romantic vision of hobos and their vagabond lives. No ties or trophy wives. No board meetings. No snorting coke off the ass of a woman who wouldn’t look twice at you if you didn’t have enough money to buy Bolivia. Oh wait, that might be something you don’t want to give up.

But now you fucking MOTU (masters of the universe) can experience your own sanitized little version of the carefree homeless life with this portable trashcan fire.

So wrap that $38,000 bottle of Macallan in a paper bag. Cut the fingers off your driving gloves and eat your caviar straight from the can while you warm yourself with the glow of this beauty. You too can experience the freedom of abject poverty without any of the actual horrors.

You all get a movie description review. Cause I’m browsing Hulu and I need something to fall back to sleep too.

This has to be the least appealing sounding movie description ever written

They’re in their 20s. He works in a video store; he’s eager, chatty, sleeps in his car. She rents adult films, looks disheveled, rarely speaks. He chats her up, she brushes him off. He takes her address from store records and contrives to run into her. He rings her doorbell; she tells him to go away. He invents a story of a great-aunt who’s died; she lets him in but holds a butcher knife between them. So it goes. He presses for a relationship; she ignores him, insults him, or yells. He’s persistent, inviting her out, cooking, washing her hair. Both have demons and, as their natures become more clear, his addictive personality and her sex nausea may be on a collision course

Genre

Comedy

Let’s see, you’ve got an opportunistic stalker who won’t take no for an answer. You’ve got a woman who is either frigid or being slut shamed for her porno viewing. I’m not sure which (or maybe it’s both) and oh look, it’s a comedy. A fucking romantic comedy.