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[26 Apr 2005|07:06am] |
so no one has heard from me for a while.
well, let me tell you why.
i do stupid stupid things.
like right now, it's 7am. and i haven't been to bed yet.
for some reason, i've been playing earthbound since about 10 or 11 pm.
i can't get into happy happy village.
anyone want to help? the mondo mole awaits!
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| diva 92.3 is all i need. |
[28 Feb 2005|04:49am] |
there's way more to life than one would have guessed.
music? fuck.
superiority? fuck.
i'm out. i'm done. i don't give a damn about any of it. i really don't.
i can't even listen to cds when i drive.
i own an ipod that i haven't used in a month.
it's the most ridiculous way in the entire world to feel better than someone else.
it really makes me want to cry, just like i did in that video store that one time.
i think i'm done with this too.
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[12 Dec 2004|04:25am] |
bitches.
bitches and hoes.
creighton is in love with powell. he's declaring it right now.
i swear.
worlds colliding.
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[29 Nov 2004|10:58pm] |
wow. like no one already knew.
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[27 Nov 2004|07:30am] |
dear god. craziness.
i don't really know what's going on, but it seems like a really good idea to get in my car and drive to a donkey show right about now.
thanksgiving. thanks a lot.
good times, always.
thank you.
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[16 Nov 2004|02:37am] |
jamie:
i promise i won't do it. i promise. there's no way i can do it again. it's love! okay, so not really, but i really won't do it.
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[19 Oct 2004|04:03am] |
would anyone care to join me in seeing GWAR in december at the house of blues?
(yes, i'm serious).
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[14 Oct 2004|02:01pm] |
this is my favorite month.
although i've almost died many many times in october, it still remains my favorite.
this is my favorite season.
although i'm in south louisiana and the entire atmosphere here is made up of noxious fumes, fall still manages to smell great.
this is my favorite time of the semester.
although i should be ready to fucking graduate, i am still failing most of my classes because i just can't make myself care.
so i don't really know what this means, but ever since i moved back to baton rouge in the spring i don't think i've gone more than about 3 days in a row sober. i don't really have a problem with this either, i just kind of feel as though i should. the other day i was voted the louie's waitress who comes to work with a hangover most often. is that some kind of honor?
new friends have been helping this. as have the old, as always.
was on a holiday from the internet. new computer to change that.
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[31 Aug 2004|01:59am] |
so, i don't really remember the exact reason i thought this was a good idea.
i don't really think there is one. boredom will be the death of me.
let's just there's a home perm involved.
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[22 Aug 2004|05:18am] |
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music |
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roger daltrey infomercial, ya hear? |
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so i think the only thing i'm beginning to use this for is to talk about all of the things that bother me.
so here's the current list:
-i keep having dreams where i am a male. they are completely normal dreams, well, as normal as my dreams are, but in them i'm a guy. i don't think this would bother me so much if i didn't have a sex dream a few nights ago and when i woke up i had thought i had an erection but was quite disappointed to realize i had no penis. i'm also quite upset that i don't really know if i'm a hot guy or not.
-i'm going to kill myself this semester working 30 hours a week at louie's, taking 4 studio art classes, and working 9 hours a week at the radio station. i think it will be good, though, i need something to keep me from staying drunk all the time.
-i repeat, i can't go out anymore.
-for some reason shayne pepper has forsaken me.
-i'm really fucking tired of having to vomit for at least an hour or so every time i get my goddamn period. sometime this week i'm going to make room to visit the health center and take care of that shit. it's ridiculous. it's just such a pain in the ass to be hanging out, having fun, drinking a few beers, listening to crappy music, and then all of a sudden to just be like "oh, shit, not only is there blood pouring out of me, but now i'm about to throw up the entire contents of my body."
enough.
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| eyeless baby faces. |
[03 Aug 2004|01:45am] |
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this post is dedicated to the things that i discovered that i loved/hated this evening/recent past:
love:
-friend soul mates who carry half-eaten bags of cheetos in their purses.
-fun foam 7" covers.
-astronauts + beer
-the idea of a blue sexplosion.
-desperado.
hate:
-shaved pussys.
-stupid bitches.
-"bridget come on dont be ridiculous. i like you a lot." FUCK THAT SHIT.
-disrespect man, disrespect.
-sara smith being gone.
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[27 Jul 2004|04:09am] |
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music |
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murmur sex murmur |
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there's nothing like lots of cheap champagne and cigarettes on a literal hot tin roof to really make a girl feel good. or bad, however one might look at it.
so guys who kiss guys aren't real guys and girls who kiss girls are fucking hott, fuck you, you frat boy bastard who works at a titty bar. i know you ain't feelin' no fake boobies. my ass is firm than the shit you get. and i eat jello pudding pops like there's no tomorrow. maybe there isn't, ya know.
and there's talk of art. haha. and women. hahaha. and we left so all respective parties could go and make out while i come home to a cheap frozen pizza, three cheeses, mind you. and then the fucking internet. you know you have no life when all you can think about while at a party is how much you would rather be looking up random information and porn.
so, when you lose one sense, the others are heightened, right?
so does that mean i should honestly believe the deaf guy that told me i was beautiful?
life lessons:
1. stop even thinking about it, it will never happen.
2. stop doing it, you know nothing good can come.
bored leads to lots of things, take my word for it, it's not desparation, it's pure boredom.
maybe i lie.
god, i hope someone cuts off your ears. give me a knife, i'll go van gogh style on your ass.
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| ben is my worst friend. |
[19 Jul 2004|02:56pm] |
laminateURcats: i hope you accidently eat food that has touched other food
missrungakutta: i hope you accidentally get laid.
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[12 Jul 2004|08:22pm] |
PUBLIC NOTICE
anyone willing to buy two tickets to the kid rock concert on july 20th and asks me to go with them, i will be more than happy to accompany you. oh, and i put out.
oh, and you might want to check with jamie too, cause i think she's offering the same deal. but that bitch be a prude.
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[22 Jun 2004|02:17am] |
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so who's going with me?
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[16 Jun 2004|04:14am] |
so i do it and i don't even mean it. it's as if i were sara and the accent just flowed naturally. and it doesn't make any sense, i mean, i hate it right? and i just do it anyway. i mean, i waited so long and it never happened and so i read cosmo and am told to give up so i do and then i know this is bad but it's okay anyway. but it's my birthday soon and good things are too come, at 3am, you know, but i don't care, i fuck it all up and now i'm stuck with this again and still, the best words i can hear come from her mouth and it's like "by the way, dude, he totally wants to fuck you" and i don't want to fuck him, but i pretend it's okay anyway just because i'm bored and there's no one around and it's fun, to be able to have that power, even though it's no power really, and so i charge my food, and hers alike, and get the fuck out of there before i compromise myself and then i come home alone to do this again, and so i get on the internet and there it all goes down. down down down. there are fake brits on my porch and horny guys i'm not about to give the time of day (or night) to and i just wish things weren't this way and i weren't going to have a pillow tonight, but you know, i don't really think i could take it any other way and am better off. yes, i'm better off. but fuck, what have i got myself into. i hate me. but that's not true. you know it's not. there's no sex involved.
where in the fuck is my email?
twin peaks.
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[14 Jun 2004|12:59am] |
okay, so, here's the deal:
MY BIRTHDAY PARTY
It's a COSTUME PARTY!
Saturday, June 19th
my house: 615 Spanishtown Rd. Apt. 1
show up anytime you would like. make sure you dress up! there should be some free alcohol and the like, but if you are picky or don't want to worry about running out, bring your own shit. i will provide as much as my little bank account allows.
everyone that is reading this is required to attend. if you don't show up, i will never speak to you again. it's my fucking birthday, you must come. if you need directions to my crib, just ask.
it will be a hip-hop-happenin' time.
oh! and if you love me enough to get me a present this is what i will accept:
-cash.
-lap dances.
-cocaine.
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[09 Jun 2004|11:53pm] |
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music |
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what would you expect? this american life. |
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after my second leg injury in the past few weeks, i am left with a couple of large abrasions on my right leg. one of these happens to be on my knee and the scab keeps peeling off before it is ready to and blood begins to squirt everywhere. this has sent me on quite a few searches for bandaids or some type of bandage to control the blood. while my other searches proved minimally fruitful, with one bandage found during each, this last one i procured 5 whole bandaids so i shall be set for almost a week.
during these searches, though, i was reminded of one certain incidence during my childhood. my mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner, which was quite strange because she hardly ever did that, and i was playing on the floor keeping her company. i must have been about 4 years old. anyway, i kept insisting that she allow me to help but she was very wary as i had recently been allowed to place my own shrinky-dinks in the oven while completely supervised and still managed to burn myself. anyway, i begged and begged and finally she decided to let me chop some carrots. i don't quite know why someone would give a chopping knife to a four year old, but seeing as how i could read and write and had mastered addition, subtraction, and multiplication and was currently working on division, i suppose she thought it was okay. well, as you may have predicted, i ended up slicing almost all the way through one of my fingers. my mother was quite upset but she didn't want to tell my father what had happened because she should have known better. so she decided to just slap a bandaid on it and blame the injury on this rocking chair that i had in my bedroom that a nail had come loose on that my father hadn't gotten around to fixing just yet. this would put her in the clear, placing the blame on his neglect of household repairs. anyway, we searched and searched the house for a bandaid but none were to be found and the wound definitely needed some sort of bandage and pressure soon. so my ever resourceful mother came up with another brilliant plan. i was never really given a sex talk or told about the birds and the bees. feminine products were no stranger in my household, but i never quite understood what they were used for. i just assumed it had something to do with the many other things in the bathroom that i was not allowed to touch, like the curling iron. so when my mother produced a maxi pad from under the cabinet and cut a small square from it, i inquired as to its purpose. she informed me that every so often, mommys would accidentally hurt themselves between their legs and these were the very big bandaids that they used. as much as this disturbed me, i went along with it and allowed her to secure this ultra absorbent napkin to my finger with strips of multicolored electrical tape that were always found around my house thanks to my dad. my father came home moments later and frantically inquired about my injury. when my mother blamed it on him, he was suspicious, but felt mildly required to immediately repair the rocker. then, upon his examination of my finger, he demanded to know what the bandage was made of. when my mother told him, he laughed hysterically and all was forgotten.
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