Dear Diary,

Talking with Tenderpoison. About parents. And smoking. Oh and crazies, can’t forget crazies.

Parents are cool, especially after you move out.

Smoking is bad. Don’t start.

And crazies.

Crazies like the people upstairs. We can hear them talk thru the vent in the master bathroom and have determined that daddie is having an affair with one of mommies friends. ‘It’ll be ok, as long as she doesn’t learn about it.’ Comes in useful when they want to complain about us being too loud.

Like the crazy chick across the hall (yes the one that Phitt went out with) that still contends that ‘crack isn’t that bad, I smoked it for a whole summer, last year.’

Like the crazy dude in the building across the parking lot who was seen when we first moved in chasing a half dressed man out of his house, then threw a full metal water bucket at his car, and said ‘I hope you enjoyed yourself.’ He’s the same guy who always asks me if I sell magazines. And I always tell him no.

Or like the crazy dude two halls over in the same building who hires an escort service every two weeks. She pulls up in a convertable, gets out wearing a super short business skirt outfit. Me and my Girl spotted her one day.

Or perhaps TenderPoison’s alcolholic neighbors. The ones who fall in ditches off bicycles, but wanna ‘just lay here for a while.’

Or the ones who glued her mailbox shut.

Or the neigbors who put a bomb on my house when I was in third grade. (a demolitions pipe bomb that takes out a football sized area)

Or our friend J. who just got arrested at Mardi Gras for selling fake vials of acid.

Hrmm. Is anyone normal?

Anyone? Anyone?

My Girl should be getting back from Mardi Gras about now, I think I’ll give her a call. I’m sure she met a normal person there. Heh, right.

Quote of the entry: (from the chat logs)

TenderPoison: And you guys are normal, I’m sure hehe
Rizzn: oh yeah
Rizzn: we are just all kinds of normal.
Rizzn: heh

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