They simply don’t go together.

I arrived home at approximately twenty minutes after 1.
My phone rang as I lit my cigarette.
I ignored the call. It was thursday. One of the 6 days I gave a fuck less about my mobile device.

I light my cigarette with a match.
Primordial.
I wonder about my recent bank statement and am awakened by a piercing alarm.
The alarm was the feeling of my already burned skin melting in a tango of blood and tissue on my left thumb.

I had burned my thumb the night before the same way. Fire and I were like oil and water.
In my mind, the label on the matchbox read “Keep away from Dyana.”
In reality, it said “Keep away from children.”
I suppose they were one and the same.

The more I investigated this matchbox, the more I realized we could be friends.
The other side stated “Close cover – Strike gently.”
I thought of a good battered wife joke.
I chuckled.

More often than not, I enjoyed pissing off feminists.
Nothing pisses a feminist off more than a female who enjoys cooking, cleaning, and agreeing with Men.
Why is this?
I didn’t know.
No one really knew.

Feminists were a breed all on their own.
Their low-level taxonomic rank served separate from the rest.
In the book of cultural nomenclature, they were most likely classified as follows:

Phylum: Human
Species: Female
Genus: Bitchium maximus.

It had been a long day.
Digressing from a bank statement to raging feminists was not the initial plan.
I searched for Neosporin.
At this point, raging feminists and the burn on my left thumb had something in common.
They were both annoying as fuck.

- I have a few people on my list, whom with each status, make me wonder more and more why I’m their friend to begin with.

- Drama in my life is like puddles on the sidewalk, sometimes I can jump over them, and sometimes I sink ankle deep in them unintending.

- If I’m ever homeless, I’d like to at least be able to pull of the homeless look. I love hobo bags?

- Food in america is found in boxes, so are dead people. Connection?

- If I ask another question will this piece seem questionable? Do I care?

- I want a purple coat. I want it to hang in my closet, because considering Arizona weather, I surely will not be able to wear it.

- If my library card history, was my credit history, I would never get a loan from any bank.

- The show the Real Housewives makes me regret calling myself a woman. So does saying I’m from Scottsdale. Both are beautifully intertwined.

- Socks are nice, but only when they’re white. Which in my case, is usually rare.

- When I started typing this my nails were clear, now they’re bright red. Im such a whore for the color red.

- I enjoy the Bravo channel, when I feel like I lack a brain and personality of course.

- I’m going to go into the kitchen now, where a woman belongs. Yes, I just said that.

- Till next time, my sweet pink pebble lovers.

- I’ve never really understood the concept of being able to go out in public in a bathing suit, but if you walk out in a bra and underwear, it is frowned upon.

- You know that moment when somebody is talking to you, but you just feel like saying:
“Yeah, honestly, I don’t give a fuck about what you’re telling me.”
I refrain from those moments 90% of the time.

- Cake has never tasted better at 1:02 in the morning.
I hope my trainer gets clogged arteries.

- Humans are attention seeking whores. The mere existence of bumper stickers is inexplicable proof of my indignation.

- Waffles. Waffles are good. I eat them every 8-10 months.

- When asked about how Didi from Dexter’s Laboratory managed to be Dexter’s sister although they were not alike, I answered:
“Didi was a crack whore at the age of 5 and was taken in by crazy yellow gloves lady, otherwise known as Dexter’s mother, afterwards realizing that crack whores could be reformed, she disciplined her son dexter into contemplating a solution to world famine. The end.”

- Today, I saw a crustaceous shrimp in an aquarium. I automatically  imagined him in a tuxedo and thought his name should be Francois. The things creativity can do to a person.

- A typical declaration made by me in conversations will now commence:
“So anyway, this Charles Manson man brainwashed his women by giving them LCD.”
LCD? You mean LSD, Diana.
Uh Yes.
LSD, I mean. 

- In a mine field, I would like to play hide and seek. Go out with a boom, aye?

- Whatever happened to A/S/L? Did a twitter bird come to its home and murder it profusely with an axe of mass proportions?

- So if two people meet on Myspace, is their offspring stamped with a
“Made In Myspace” emblem?
I cannot help but wonder.

- Dust settles on an object, right after you wipe it off.
Does that mean that during the course of our sleep cycle we too collect dust?
Is that not a bit eery to imagine?
Our sleeping selves covered in dust as if ages passed and time ceased to exist.
Good lord, I need a yogurt. 

- Till another time, my petunia poppies. 

The text message conversation.

Well, I must say, I was washing the dishes and while taking part in this text extravaganza, I laughed out loud continuously. 

It went a little something like this:

Dean : i need you to cut open this safe while i text u.

Diana: ok???? you need me to hand you a wrench or what?

Dean: how bout dem apples?

Diana: who are you and where is my fucking horse?

Dean: plasma torch.

(and then i proceeded to laugh my ass off hysterically.)

Now, most of you will not understand how truly funny this was, but the fact of the matter is, I was amused by the sheer randomness that went on in each reply.

I just wanted to post that. 

Till next time, my petite doves.

- Buh-jee-zus is it just me or is it haling in Arizona?

- Minimum wage can be awful. I wouldn’t know though.

- I have not had hair this soft in perhaps, ever. That would be just a guess, perhaps.

- I need a t-shirt that says “You are my next picasso.” Why? Just because.

- It is funny how a hand full of tattoos on a certain guy can be so extremely attractive it makes one forget to even use his/her brain. Tis’ personal experience.

- I have decided to visit Norway at some point in my life. There is no certain reason.
Except maybe for the pudding. They have pudding in Norway?

- I must not give in.

- So math is the calculation of numbers all together, apart, next to each other, up and down and all
around? Then can letters be numbers? And if so, can you calculate A + B + C = Alphabet? Which
further equals eight divided by three? Or maybe eight times three? Which is twenty-four. Only two
letters off and it would be as many letters as there are in the alphabet. I now doubt X and Z as letters.
Damn you, X and Z.
Damn you.

- My ipod’s official name is “Funky Boob Monkey.” Now that is a name right there.

-”The world I know, is a world much too slow” is something I always sing about especially on my
way home.

- I think Paul Coelho found some ancient book of mayan stories, transformed it, and uses it every now and then for inspiration. But thats just me.

- Will somebody please define what acid jazz means? Perhaps I am asking the wrong crowd. Perhaps,
I am wrong and they are right. Lil Wayne rocks socks? Maybe not…

- Sarcasm and Irony have always worked as a great hollywood couple for me.

- I always enjoy piano on Mondays. This is a complete lie. I do not have the luxury of enjoying piano
every monday. Possibly getting a job may remedy this, that or a musician as a husband. Both of the two are highly unlikely.

- Dasani is product of the Coca-Cola Company. Sometimes I feel like Coca-Cola even makes my
 underwear. Must they own quite everything? Its spiteful.

- By the time a one world government is created, I will have at least discovered how many licks it truly does take to get to the creamy filling.

- Mud. Mud is great. Mud is awesome.

- If you’re going to have sexual intercourse in the library, be sure do it in the fiction section. It is
more realistic? Or not.

- Being chubby has its advantages. I just haven’t found them yet.

- Doopie Doo I sing all day. Doopie doop. Doop Doop Doop.
Yes. One sometimes finds the need to doop doop doop continuously.  

- Doop freaking doop.

Till next time, my onion bottoms.