shojo

Boy do I have a lot of things to talk about.... and guess what? You're going to read all of it and wallow in the deep dark depths of your disinterest until the very last word.

*Details on my first experience in a nightclub have been omitted due to the fact that what I wrote is so amazingly insipid that it makes me want to empty to contents of my stomach onto endangered species like elks made of candy and joy*

I've finally capitluated. It was a long battle, and I gave all I had in me, but I caved in. No, I didn't join Friendster. I bought a cell phone. It's charging as we speak, charging, and laughing. Mocking me with it's cold plastic glare, belittling me with it's callous ring tones, responding to every one of my attempts at a truce with, "That's what your mother said last night." No matter what I try, the cell phone always has the upper hand and the sharper wit.

God, it's only a matter of time until I become that poor lost soul you see on public transportation flirting with his Dallas Cowboys cheerleader girlfriend about the buffulo-like girth of his 14 inch penis...the mere thought turns my blood to ice.

So now the only question left is... who wants to have geeky phone sex with me in public places? I promise that if you're feeling sad, nothing will make you laugh harder than the first time you hear me stammeringly mutter "Vagina".