"To Die by Your Side is Such a Heavenly Way to Die"

This past week has, in short, been hell.
Between prolonged spasms of abdominal nausea and pain,
and episodes of Sex and the City,
I have been contemplating the concept of premature menopause,
mostly brought upon by the reoccurring hot and cold flashes.
Which brought me to turn off the tube and reflect on my life so far.

I am young.
Unaccomplished.
Unknown.
I don't even know if I want to be known.

And lying there,
on that beat-up leather couch,
I began to contemplate growth.

Growth.

The Smiths helped a great deal with this,
as I had their "Singles" album replaying on my iPod.

Who's side do I want to die by?
Is that even a valid question?
Cause, really, who the hell wants to die?

No one wants to die, I don't care how fucking suicidal you think you are.

You just want to be in a different place,
a better place,
and death is a way of bringing yourself
to that next level
of life.

It's a contradiction in a way.

Besides,
suicide is just because you feel you have no other option.

Moving on,
because this is in no way
a public service blog.

Anyways.

If you think dying is heavenly,
that's saying something.

I'm not really sure what,
but it's definitely something.

Chocolate is heavenly.
Dying isn't.
Although, I haven't died before,
so I guess I'm not really licensed to say such.

I'm not one for
"LOVE."

Ugh.

That four-letter word has led to more bloodshed
and tension
and hatred
than any other.

What the hell even is it?

A really good orgasm?

Well, considering my form of religion
is my iPod,
I would say that the Smiths
are pretty much all I have
as far as this topic goes.

Well, whether it be "LOVE"
or delusion
that makes a man think dying
next to another
is heavenly...

I'll have a glass of whatever Morrissey's having.

Bazinga.

-Emily Ann

P.S. Charles and Lucie? Still debatable.

Lauren's Bits 2

I'm the one with her her face shoved in the locker.
The boy is one that I was quite fond of, but had embarrassed myself in front of.

I guess this didn't help.

-Emily Ann

Yoga Pants- As Contraversial as Skinny-Jeaned Christians

Anyone who has traveled outside in the previous years should know of the dreadful future that waits before us, the real 2012, the inescapable Armageddon: The Rise of the Sluts.
Ah yes, everyone, the reign of such is fast-approaching, and at the top of their list? Yoga pants.
Yes, that's right. Yoga pants.
Now, let my back myself up by saying I do indulge myself in the joys of yoga from time to time, and for the frequent yoga-er, such articles are a staple in your workout wardrobe.
However, the privilege of such polyester-spandex blends has been harshly abused by those wishing to showcase their asses.
Now, don't get me wrong, as a sexual human being, I do have urges to show the world my treasures, but I would rather do it in a pair of skinny jeans with correct pocket placement.
And I'm not saying that showing off what you've got is wrong at all, it's just that, in any case, this is just wrong.




How do you like them apples, Dickens?

Bazinga

-Emily Ann