Latest Entry
Archived Entries
Private Entries
Dream Entries

About the Diary
More on Me
The Cast
Disclaimer
My Profile

G-book
Sticky Notes
Contact Me

Links & Rings
Tests & B.S.

My Hell
Host
Site Meter
<--� | �-->

Caution : Will charge at random

Sunday, Apr. 13, 2003

11:52 p.m.

I feel like: Why the hell am i still up? Sleep is needed at this depressing stage.
Stuck in my head: the "kick" tune from cell phones... you know it... o.o
Thinking about: I really need more HTML practice. Need free diaryland custom template? I'll do it! Contact meh please!


dfghfghfhgfghfg


Aight, so my earlier entries in this diary deal were mucho-superior than the crap I type out currently. I figure it�s a result of the nagging paranoia that people I may or may not know come here to stalk me� but whatever, that�s all right I stalk the citizens too just because I�m a malevolent sick bastard like that.

I�m still a little distraught over discovering that dead guy yesterday. Too bad elderly deceased guys aren�t like comets or bugs, cause then MD and I coulda� named him and everything. I�m thinking �Martin� or �Wilson�, even though Wilson was the name of the (astonishingly hot) volleyball in Cast Away.

I never did devise a way to dash on over to that Bad Religion concert. It was remarkably close to working out, but alas, my less-than-foolproof plan crumbles to my feet. Damn it. Crash and burn, I lose yet again� this occurrence now elevating my debt with yon-li�l-bro.

Speaking of the little fucker. Kid was messing around in my room with a (rather large) inflatable bat and collided with something on my light, thus resetting my already fragile electric system, which was just peachy considering I didn�t get electrocuted. *Gasp*, yeah.

So I get to type my monitor-light.

I�ve also acquired this bizarre fetish with painting stuff by means of nail polish. I fabricated a shrine to a penny I discovered in my shoe that�s taken days, since I just add a diminutive something everyday. It�s all pretty now, plastered by my mouse pad beneath about 25 coats of clear nail polish, surrounded by petite dots of, I think, green. Shea�s gonna flip when she notices it, and almost undoubtedly give me the complete �How will I ever be able to sell all your furniture and this house when you move out� (or convert your room into a spa, with a little tiki bar)- lecture. �Sol right with me. Knock yourself out, Shea, all that wind is excellent for your flatulence.

My piercing culpability (and lack of mon-ay) forced me to go seek out applications today. Actually, MD and I were down at Smith�s, lying on a bench for two hours, feeling discouraging and gawking mindlessly at the sun, that we figured if we�re gonna loiter around here so much we might as well get salaried for it. Hell� I�m poor. I snatched one from Dion�s in addition. As if they�d hire me though... that�s about a likely as founding an empire of hamsters.

�But hey, hamsters do proliferate rapidly.



dfghfghfhgfghfg

0 comments so far




graduation approximation
until I'm 16
before I can move out