eye of newt, tail of newt... rest of newt...
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Joined: Tue Nov 05, 2013 9:41 pm Posts: 3423 Location: the void Medals: 12
Blog: View Blog (59)
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November Lazaahn has taken a liking to this human 'SnapChat' nonsense. Downloaded it on my phone for me without my knowing. Apparently, my username is 'vivviebby'. I have deleted the app numerous times, but he keeps stealing my phone and reinstalling it. Running out of ideas for four-digit passwords; he guesses them all either way. Getting a new, secret phone would be easier. I suppose I shall have to keep it in my bra at all times. He is at least enough of a gentleman to not go snooping in my underwear. Who would have thought?
January I never understood why anyone would complain about another year being over. It is a cool, calm, collected time. People get started over with their accounting and hangovers. There is always a flare of new, bright souls, too. People make big decisions in January.
Considering that point of view, maybe I should dislike January more. Although, on the other hand, if I openly displayed my loathing, Lazaahn would not hesitate to be more infuriatingly, nauseatingly chipper than he already is. I have learned my lesson from the milkshakes. I may retch at the memory.
April Lazaahn finally gave up reinstalling that ghastly picture sharing service on my phone. That does not mean he has given up, however, no no, he still takes pictures of himself and sends them to me the old-fashioned way: by text. Having a burning desire to either block his number or throw my phone in the Hudson. Although, knowing him as well as I do, he would probably resort to pigeon mail to torment me. Good Lord. | June Another day, another reason to kill myself. Someone higher up (lower down?) has decided it would be prudent for demons to have more permanent residences on Earth.
The apartment that has been assigned to me is decent enough, and I would probably like the feeling of having somewhere to go home to on occasion, if not for the fact that I have to share it with this - this repulsive individual. Maybe I should try hurling myself from a church tower again. Third time is the charm, is that not what they say?
July Two weeks have passed. Living with Lazaahn is worse than Hell, as absurd as it sounds. The priests should use the experience of entering an apartment and finding someone else's cloak-collection hanging in the closet, someone else's unwashed mugs in the sink (the man has an absurd taste for mediocre coffee), and their mocking, sing-song "honey, I'm home" every time either of you walk through the front door as a representation of eternal suffering rather than the pictures of iron maidens and racks that they used to use. Truth be told, I have not been to church for a very long time. Maybe mess made by someone you hate to the very core of your being is exactly the modern idea of Hell.
Very tempted to shave his goatee off in his rare moments of sleep. I can't bring myself to it, though. I once stood with the razor above his neck, but he looked so unlike his usual smug self that I was unable to. For some inexplicable reason, he is really very fond of that half-a-beard. Sometimes, I catch myself wondering what it feels like to touch. It is a very, very good thing Lazaahn does not understand French, otherwise I would never hear the end of it if he found this. |
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