My social problems class was canceled and no one bothered to tell me. Poop. So, yeah, I sat around in the library 'til my second class, and fortunately I didn't get up, so my seat wasn't usurped by some asshole, and I didn't have to spam anyone with barnyard porn. That's good. I didn't get to see Poor Man's Selma Blair, though. She stopped carrying her Coach bag. She now has one of those new Burberry bags. A lot of girls are carrying those on campus.
It's past five o'clock, so I think it's time for a rant. I really hate these "convenient" fridge packs the Coca-Cola company is forcing upon the general public. I think I now know what they're doing with the cocaine they strip from their precious coca plants -- yeah, they're snorting it. First of all, the way things are arranged in my fridge, there isn't any room for a long pack of sodas. Then... Well, this is the second time it's happened. I buy a pack of Diet Coke, I come home and open it up to put some cans in the fridge, and there are empty cans. I don't mean that some sort of assembly line worker drank the soda from the conveyer belt and then put it back on, I mean... the can's sealed up. It hasn't been opened. The tab's still in place. No soda in it. And there's also Ginger Ale in the Diet Coke pack, which is okay because I like Ginger Ale, but you know what? I didn't buy Ginger Ale. So I called up and complained, and they're sending me coupons. I'd rather have the Diet Coke shipped directly to my house. Crates of it.
When I was younger, I would call up the hotlines on the food products' (invariably junk food) packaging and complain -- say there was something wrong with it, it was stale, et cetera, blah blah blah fishcakes. Nine times out of ten, they would ship me lots and lots of free stuff. I got lots of free Cheetos. The Frito-Lay company was generally good for grifting out of free food. You'd think they would keep some sort of record of people complaining, so as not to ship free stuff out to assholes like me. I know what I did was morally reprehensible, and maybe these fucked up fridge packs are actually some sort of karmic retribution for my thrifty misdeeds.
I just looked out the window. There's a dead lizard stuck in the window outside, between the-- Well, I don't know what it's called. At the top of the window. Between the glass and the rim. Anyhow, it's been there for months. I don't like touching dead things, and opening the window hasn't dislodged it. And I like lizards, too. I rescue them from Zowie, who likes playing with the. I don't think she wants to kill or eat them, or at least I'd like to think that. But she does treat the lizard just like she treats the green mini-football that was included with the mini-Babybel cheese wheels. I have no idea why. It seemed kind of incongruent and just plain odd. I mean, why? I love to eat cheese while watching football.
What was I writing about? That football toy tangent distracted me. Right. Lizards. This one time, a lizard latched onto her nose, and she shook her little head. You have to be careful when removing a lizard from your cat's face because you might remove the lizard's tail while the lizard itself remains. Either way, I like lizards. When I catch them, they usually stick around and crawl on my arm or just stay there and chill out. They don't bite me. They're cool.
I have decided, if I wind up getting hitched to a boy instead of a girl or, you know, married AT ALL, I want to be married to nice heterosexual boy from the Midwest with a not-too-prominent accent but still says words like "pop." I can't think of other words that differentiate Midwesterners from, say, Southerners. I just like it when they refer to carbonated beverages as "pop." This boy also has to be really, really into pegging, but he should be aggressive in bed also. He should have a Jewfro, too, or a broken nose. But not both at the same time. He may have a Jewfro and a crooked Daniel Day-Lewis-esque nose, though. Freckles are a plus, but not a prerequisite. Also, he should be cute and be able to make me laugh. And he has to be smart, too, but I still need to kick his ass at Jeopardy. And at Tony Hawk. Okay, he can win every now and then at Tony Hawk, but only when I let him.
There are other prerequisites for my boyfriend, sure, but I can't think of anything right now that seems important.
If I don't find a boy that meets these standards, I'll just go hang out with my gay boyfriend, Byron, and I don't really care that he is queer. Gay boyfriend, gay boyfriend, I never feel lonely when you are near. Click on that link, by the way. It's a funny music video featuring the Ukes of Hazzard. I don't really care that they can't sing, I just want to make out with Anne. And watching that video, I realize that Sydney's fag kind of looks like my fag, except Byron's face is less angular.
Byron and I want to see Wesley Willis on Wednesday, but I'm not sure if LilJackKnife and I have a show this Wednesday. It's okay if we don't, we'll do something else on Friday or whenever. He's a darling boy.
You know, I logged on with every intention of simply linking to that Ukes of Hazzard video and saying, "I don't feel like writing!" but I wound up ranting about Diet Coke and lizards, and I don't know how or why I elaborate and pontificate on this really banal, boring shit. Some of you seem to enjoy it, and that's okay, but I just like writing. It's fun. I've always kept a journal, and I still have a print one, but I use that in a girly Trapper-Keeper sort of way, if you know what I mean. Poor Man's Selma Blair + Toaster 4 Eva!
As a public service, I'm telling y'all to not rent CQ. Did that movie get a Raspberry? It deserved one.
Okay, I'm all written out. I like cigarettes, and that's no gag, but you'll always be my favorite fag, you'll always be my favorite fag, you'll always be my favorite faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggg.
That's one catchy tune.
It's past five o'clock, so I think it's time for a rant. I really hate these "convenient" fridge packs the Coca-Cola company is forcing upon the general public. I think I now know what they're doing with the cocaine they strip from their precious coca plants -- yeah, they're snorting it. First of all, the way things are arranged in my fridge, there isn't any room for a long pack of sodas. Then... Well, this is the second time it's happened. I buy a pack of Diet Coke, I come home and open it up to put some cans in the fridge, and there are empty cans. I don't mean that some sort of assembly line worker drank the soda from the conveyer belt and then put it back on, I mean... the can's sealed up. It hasn't been opened. The tab's still in place. No soda in it. And there's also Ginger Ale in the Diet Coke pack, which is okay because I like Ginger Ale, but you know what? I didn't buy Ginger Ale. So I called up and complained, and they're sending me coupons. I'd rather have the Diet Coke shipped directly to my house. Crates of it.
When I was younger, I would call up the hotlines on the food products' (invariably junk food) packaging and complain -- say there was something wrong with it, it was stale, et cetera, blah blah blah fishcakes. Nine times out of ten, they would ship me lots and lots of free stuff. I got lots of free Cheetos. The Frito-Lay company was generally good for grifting out of free food. You'd think they would keep some sort of record of people complaining, so as not to ship free stuff out to assholes like me. I know what I did was morally reprehensible, and maybe these fucked up fridge packs are actually some sort of karmic retribution for my thrifty misdeeds.
I just looked out the window. There's a dead lizard stuck in the window outside, between the-- Well, I don't know what it's called. At the top of the window. Between the glass and the rim. Anyhow, it's been there for months. I don't like touching dead things, and opening the window hasn't dislodged it. And I like lizards, too. I rescue them from Zowie, who likes playing with the. I don't think she wants to kill or eat them, or at least I'd like to think that. But she does treat the lizard just like she treats the green mini-football that was included with the mini-Babybel cheese wheels. I have no idea why. It seemed kind of incongruent and just plain odd. I mean, why? I love to eat cheese while watching football.
What was I writing about? That football toy tangent distracted me. Right. Lizards. This one time, a lizard latched onto her nose, and she shook her little head. You have to be careful when removing a lizard from your cat's face because you might remove the lizard's tail while the lizard itself remains. Either way, I like lizards. When I catch them, they usually stick around and crawl on my arm or just stay there and chill out. They don't bite me. They're cool.
I have decided, if I wind up getting hitched to a boy instead of a girl or, you know, married AT ALL, I want to be married to nice heterosexual boy from the Midwest with a not-too-prominent accent but still says words like "pop." I can't think of other words that differentiate Midwesterners from, say, Southerners. I just like it when they refer to carbonated beverages as "pop." This boy also has to be really, really into pegging, but he should be aggressive in bed also. He should have a Jewfro, too, or a broken nose. But not both at the same time. He may have a Jewfro and a crooked Daniel Day-Lewis-esque nose, though. Freckles are a plus, but not a prerequisite. Also, he should be cute and be able to make me laugh. And he has to be smart, too, but I still need to kick his ass at Jeopardy. And at Tony Hawk. Okay, he can win every now and then at Tony Hawk, but only when I let him.
There are other prerequisites for my boyfriend, sure, but I can't think of anything right now that seems important.
If I don't find a boy that meets these standards, I'll just go hang out with my gay boyfriend, Byron, and I don't really care that he is queer. Gay boyfriend, gay boyfriend, I never feel lonely when you are near. Click on that link, by the way. It's a funny music video featuring the Ukes of Hazzard. I don't really care that they can't sing, I just want to make out with Anne. And watching that video, I realize that Sydney's fag kind of looks like my fag, except Byron's face is less angular.
Byron and I want to see Wesley Willis on Wednesday, but I'm not sure if LilJackKnife and I have a show this Wednesday. It's okay if we don't, we'll do something else on Friday or whenever. He's a darling boy.
You know, I logged on with every intention of simply linking to that Ukes of Hazzard video and saying, "I don't feel like writing!" but I wound up ranting about Diet Coke and lizards, and I don't know how or why I elaborate and pontificate on this really banal, boring shit. Some of you seem to enjoy it, and that's okay, but I just like writing. It's fun. I've always kept a journal, and I still have a print one, but I use that in a girly Trapper-Keeper sort of way, if you know what I mean. Poor Man's Selma Blair + Toaster 4 Eva!
As a public service, I'm telling y'all to not rent CQ. Did that movie get a Raspberry? It deserved one.
Okay, I'm all written out. I like cigarettes, and that's no gag, but you'll always be my favorite fag, you'll always be my favorite fag, you'll always be my favorite faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggg.
That's one catchy tune.
VIEW 22 of 22 COMMENTS
user8935778:
gayboyfriend <3 no show wed. its passover. and theres a game
bkwill:
Wow impressive, very long and full formed. Maximum length huh. I dig the bit about the food company, I use to try that with cerial but I never got anything in the mail.