babble

tears of insanity and fish

Cami Kaos

26 Mar 2008 — 1 min read

I normally don't talk about "woman troubles" here.

I think that was by design

but some days... some days I just have to say what I need to say.

to get off my chest what is bothering me

be it real or imaginary...

or maybe just intensely amplified.

You know what I'm saying?

Yeah... you know what I'm saying.

If you don't suffer from the horrible ill effects of fluctuating hormones messing up your mind.heart.soul then you know someone who does...

Right?

Yes. Just fucking say yes before I shiv your ass.

We all on the same page?

Sigh.

Good. Thank you. I was about to start tearing up. Like when I was watching SpongeBob SquarePants earlier with K... and I started to get a little misty.

Or when Mr. Kaos, that evil sonofabitch, told me the house smelled like fish.

(it soooo smells like fish because we cooked some fish that smelled like fish... sucks. But he didn't have to tell me. I already know it smells like fish... I've been febreezing the hell out of everything. I've got the vinegar out and the incense... it's a burning)

What was I saying?

Oh.. yeah. I'm just not right in the head right now.

I can't wait for the next 24ish hours to pass...

maybe I should self medicate?

Coming soon

This is Cami Kaos, a brand new site by Cami Kaos that's just getting started. Things will be up and running here shortly, but you can subscribe in the meantime if you'd like to stay up to date and receive emails when new content is published!

the invites...

Yesterday my mother showed up at my door with 13 handcrafted birthday invitations in one hand and 1.75 liters of vodka in the other. The two are mostly unrelated. The invites are made from paper and glitter. Stamp and ink. She didn't write in them, but provided

there is not a raccoon in my kitchen...

As I sit quietly in my living room working I tend to listen to the sounds of home. The slight buzz and hum of my heater, the birds chirping and chattering from my high windows, the rush of cars on the street outside, and the constant chirps, pings, and trills

you put your hair in the coconut...

I remember putting some crazy things in my hair as a kid. Lemon juice, kool-aid, mayonnaise, avocado, tea, and that scalding hot oil treatment. With that last one I might as well been torturing myself with tar and feathers. Then there was the one summer I strived to find the

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Coming soon

the invites...

there is not a raccoon in my kitchen...

you put your hair in the coconut...