8.14.03
I managed to stay up last night to see, oh, three meteors, two of which I wasn’t even sure if I HAD seen them. But one had a really long streak and was really cool.
Our computer got infected with that LovSan worm that’s going around; luckily, we got rid of it. The worm, not the computer. Duh. I was on there this morning and got a pop-up message that said, basically, “This computer has an error in some system you’ve never heard of and will shut down in 59 seconds, so save your crap, or else you’re doomed.” (It doesn’t actually say that, but that’s the basic premise of it.) So I was frantically trying to finish whatever it was I was doing and log off; and I thought I might be able to get rid of it myself but I couldn’t. But my mom got rid of it, so it’s all good for now.
Have you ever had one of those days where you wake up and you think “Holy crap, I am in a good mood today. Ain’t nothin’ gonna burst MY bubble.” I’ve felt like that all day today. It’s like I woke up and was like “Life is bee-yoo-tee-full! Pessimism, piffle!”
I have … a new friend. Her name is Charlotte and she’s skinny and has long legs, and she lives under my bed. Charlotte, as you’ve probably already guessed, is of the arachnid persuasion. She (actually, I’m not sure whether it’s a male or female, but I AM sure that it doesn’t care what its name is) crawled out from under my bed this morning and I let her crawl on my arm. That’s a big thing for me, letting a spider that close to me. Only Charlotte kept wanting to go down my shirt front so I had to keep picking her up off my chest. You’ve also probably guessed that I named Charlotte after the spider in “Charlotte’s Web”; and you’d be right. Charlotte is a cellar spider, also known as a daddy-long-legs; the kind that live in the corners of your basement and have the really long skinny abdomen. Charlotte is also minus one leg. But it really actually wasn’t that bad, letting Charlotte scuttle over me. It was just a little tickly, that’s all. When I didn’t want the spider on me anymore I put her back under the bed. Now I can’t squish her. I’d feel all guilty if I did. Besides, if I name something I can’t kill it.
8.13.03
I wanted to watch the goddamn Perseids last night but I fell asleep around 11:30 pm-ish. But I woke up at like 4:20 am and thought, “There’ll probably be some out,” so I opened up my east window to look out, and waited for, like, 20 minutes and didn’t see a single meteor. And then I was cold so I went back into bed but couldn’t sleep, and my alarm was set to go off at six anyway so I decided to listen to a CD before I “officially” woke up to listen to Gustav and Daria, so I listened to my Alterna-Mix IV CD. (Roman numerals kick ass.)
Digressing COMPLETELY from that topic, I was watching Rescue 911 yesterday afternoon on the Discovery Health channel—I used to watch that show religiously as a child. And there was one episode that I remember the plot of from my youth, and they showed that episode yesterday. In it, a woman comes home from the store or somewhere, and she’s looking through her mail and she’s petting her cat, and she happens to look down a dark hallway and sees a person. Oh, and she’d come home to what she thought was an empty house; I forgot to mention that. Anywhoozle, she freaks out and runs to a neighbor’s house to call 911. She’s all like freakin’ out and describing the person to the operator, and the police are dispatched to the woman’s house. The policeman enters the house and is stealthily walking around, gun drawn, ready to shoot the intruder. He enters the hallway that the person is in and says “Don’t move.” The person doesn’t. The policeman again says “Don’t … move.” He flicks on a light—and the “person” turns out to be a mannequin. Best. Episode. EVAR.
Oh, I almost forgot that I was going to tell the story of the time our goat (which we don’t have anymore, obviously) almost killed me when I was seven. So, gather round, kiddies.
This happened about fifteen, sixteen years ago, so forgive me for the sketchy blurry memories. Anyway, we used to have a goat, and one time I was in the pasture with it when it got loose and charged straight at me. Of course I panicked. Hey, I was SEVEN. I ran as fast as my purple-corduroyed legs would carry me to the front door, with the goat chasing me the entire time. I don’t remember if the door was locked or if I was panicking too hard to open it, but I do remember distinctly pounding on the front door for dear life. My mom opened the door literally just as the goat was almost on top of me. I slammed it shut and the goat raised up on its hind legs and was looking in through the little window-thing on the top of the door. I’m about 99% sure I was crying. And this wasn’t a little tiny-assed petting-zoo-billy-goat. This was a freaking huge goat. I hated that goat.
They just opened a Krispy Kreme donut shop in Oregon. It’s luckily near us; I’d be pissed if it was in, say, Bend or somewhere. But it’s in Clackamas. Anyway, having never had Krispy Kremes before, I was inclined to think they were just like regular donuts. I mean, a donut is a donut! Then my brother brought some home for himself and on the top of the box it said “NICK’S DONUTS—ASK BEFORE TAKING.” So I went up to his room and said “Can I have one of your donuts?” He gave me a Look and sighed, then said “I guess so,” as if I’d just asked if I could chop off both his arms. “But only one. I counted them. I know there’s six in there.” “Do you have surveillance on them too?” I said sarcastically, going downstairs to grab one. My mom had said that they’re better if they’re hot, so I popped it in the microwave for about 25 seconds, which was a little too long—I found this out later when my mom said eight seconds is perfect. But anyway, it WAS very very very good. I probably would have preferred a filled donut (there were only the original glazed) as I am not very fond of glazed. Or rather, wasn’t. Now I want more.
8.06.03
Yeah, a week of no updates. What are you gonna do.
Have you ever seen a movie that you thought was really good when you first saw it, then you see it again some years later and you’re like “This movie is total crap!” Last night I was upstairs in my room, reading Apollo 13 (see, Mrs. McCormick? I remembered that book titles are underlined!), which by the way is a really good book and everyone should read it, and I could hear the TV downstairs. My parents were watching “Speed.” I knew this because I have practically memorized that movie. Anyway, it was about ten thirty, ten forty-five, and I decided to go downstairs and do the dishes. I wasn’t going to stay downstairs but the movie was about halfway through and while the sink was filling up was when they did The Jump. You know the one. Anyway, when I first saw the movie in the theatre, I was like “That was so COOOOLLLL!!!” Because I was fifteen, and insane. Now I’m thinking, “What the freaking hell? That could never happen! Okay, first of all, busses in general are not aerodynamic. It doesn’t matter how fast they’re going. Unless they suddenly sprouted wings, they would NOT jump the gap, they’d go DOWN. And secondly, why is the freeway incomplete to begin with? Did a section fall out, or did they just not get around to finishing it? And oh, a freeway that’s not in use in L.A.? Irony alert! Irony alert! Oh, man, that was the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard. Can I smack Yokel Dude? I so totally wanna smack Yokel Dude. [fast forward a bit to the airport part] Oh, now they’re getting off the bus. Better not let Dennis Hopper notice that tape is looping. Oh, of COURSE they crash the bus into a freight airplane. ‘Cause, you know, if you crashed it into a passenger jet, that would be wrong. Oh, now back to Keanu and Sandra. Just get on the stupid freaking hatch door thingy, Sandra, Keanu’s not gonna let anything happen to you. Unless he ‘accidentally’ swerves the thing under a tire, or something … You know, this movie could conceivably end right here, but we’ve still got Dennis Hopper to deal with. Oh, he’s noticed the tape is looping. Blah blah blah fast forward to subway part. How the hell could Keanu not tell that’s Sandra Bullock in front of him, even if she’s got her back to him? Don’t shoot Sandra Bullock, Keanu! Nooooo! Yeah, go chase after Dennis Hopper now. Scuffle on the top of the subway with Dennis Hopper, and don’t forget about the fact that if he lets go of that stick, Sandra Bullock will die. I don’t see why he doesn’t let go of the stick. I would. Somehow he’s managing to hang onto the thing, though. Oh, there goes Dennis Hopper’s head. Goodbye, Dennis Hopper’s head. Okay, now Keanu can go set Sandra Bullock free. Oh, he doesn’t have the key for the handcuffs… WHAT??? The SUBWAY TRACK IS UNFINISHED!??!?! They already DID THIS with the freeway!!!! Did the producers freakin’ run out of ideas?? Why not a giant cement wall? Oh, that would be too inconceivable. Keanu’s gonna speed it up? Yeah, you just do that, Keanu. Hey, everyone on the street should watch out for the GIANT SUBWAY CAR CRASHING THROUGH THE BILLBOARD. I’m noticing nobody seems phased by this. Okay, now Keanu and Sandra are getting it on. Is Sandra Bullock still handcuffed to the pole? Oooh… kinky…”
I was also planning to tell The Story of the Time Our Goat Almost Killed Me When I was Seven, but I’m tired of typing, so you’ll have to wait till the next update for that one.
7.29.03
Today is the one-year anniversary of the day I started writing in this thing.
I thought it’d be a little more exciting.
But I have no life, so … yeah.
Ironically, I have nothing to say besides that…
7.27.03
Alright, fine. I don’t hate you anymore, Anonymous-Person-From-Brunchma. I’m still mad at you though. But I’m cooling down. I don’t want you for an enemy. I think you’re rather funny. And I mean funny ha-ha, not funny weird.
…Wait. What’s today? Sunday? …God, I’m so fucked-up today.
Speaking of fucked-up, I felt like such an idiot yesterday. I was making lunch—it was turkey and cream cheese sandwiches (DON’T KNOCK ‘EM, DAMMIT!) and Top Ramen noodles—and I put the pot of water on the stove, turned it on, and waited for the water to boil while I made the sandwiches. A few minutes later it occurred to me that the water was not boiling. Why? I had turned on the wrong burner. Oh, I am a GENIUS. So I had to wait an extra five minutes for my goddamn soup.
You know what I really love? Cup O’ Noodles.
Yeah.
7.25.03
Another message to the person I mentioned below. I have, because I’m too lazy to hold a grudge, taken you off my blocked PM list. This is also because I’m sure that if you tried to send me a message, and you were blocked, you would know that it WAS you I was talking about below. However, I still hate you, for too many reasons to list here, but the most important one is that you are a psycho. And, once again for the record, you cannot tell me what I am allowed to put in MY OWN personal online journal. But I’m not going to argue with you. It’s too much of a goddamn hassle. And I would SINCERELY appreciate it if you would stop treating me as if I’m something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe.
EEEEEEE!!! PEPPER!!!! From Butthole Surfers!!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!! [mood heightens by about ten thousand times]
7.24.03
Message to a certain someone on brunchma.com who will remain nameless: I … HATE … YOU. Why don’t YOU leave ME the fuck alone??? And if you are this person—and you know who you are—this is MY fucking journal, so I can say whatever I want about anybody and anything. This is NOT The Board. Also don’t bother sending me any private messages because I’ve blocked you. And don’t email me either.
God dammit, I had the worst day yesterday … there were only two high points of my day. The bad part was my insomnia, the heat, and the aforementioned person. I was actually on the verge of tears yesterday because I was having such a horrible day. But I checked my email and got a reply from Daria about the last email I sent her, which consisted of eight words: “Funniest. Guide*. Ever. (That is all. Carry on.)” She replied with “Yay! You’re so sweet to say so.” I couldn’t stop smiling after that. I love her dearly. The other high point was of course the morning show itself. It was actually the funniest one I’d heard in a long time.
*Refers to the Local Entertainment Guide, which was, indeed, the funniest one I’d ever heard.
7.21.03
I’ve made some quizzes, which can be taken by clicking the Quizzes link above.
boooooorrrrreeeed…
7.19.03
I don’t really have anything to say today. However, to compensate you for last night’s entry which probably put unpleasant images into your brain, here is a picture of an adorable puppy.
I just transcribed another of Daria’s guides, too.
7.18.03
The other night I was watching TV, it was around midnight, and there was a show in the TV guide channel listings on Animal Planet called “Eaten Alive.”
”We have to watch this,” said my inner sadist. So I did. Man, that was like the grossest show I’d ever seen. EVER. It was all about parasites and what they did to your body. Complete with Really Disgusting Imagery and Unnecessary Sound Effects. First up, and I actually missed this one but I’d seen the show before, so I know what it was, was this chick who was going to the bathroom and she pissed out some sort of worm. And it was like, lying there on the floor, this slimy brown worm. I can’t remember if it was still alive or not. Then there was Chick With Worms in Her Brain, and there was—and I think this may be the ickiest one—Guy With Tapeworm That He Attempted to Pull Out Himself. This was seriously disgusting. This guy went to the bathroom (doing that seems to be an important part of finding out if you have a parasite) and part of the tapeworm was coming out his ass, so he pulled it out. And pulled it out. And pulled it out … okay, I think you get the idea. But when he got to the head, it was stuck, and wouldn’t come out anymore. So he got a pair of scissors and cut it, and it went Shloink! Right back into him. They got it out, and showed the tapeworm out of his body and it literally looked like a plate of pasta. Like thick fettuccine noodles, actually. I can hear everyone’s stomach turning at the thought of ever eating fettuccine ever again. After that they had Guy With Worm in His Eye. He looked in the mirror and they had a close-up of his eye with the worm crawling across it. The worm wasn’t on his eye, it was underneath the cornea. This would not have been half as bad had they not had the “shplorpy” sound effects. I can’t really describe them but they literally made me get the dry heaves. Then there was Guy With Botfly Larva in His Stomach. For some reason he wanted to keep it in there, probably because he was insane. But he finally realized that he had to get it out, and so the doctor said “Put a raw steak on it,” because then the larva would have had to crawl through the steak to get oxygen. That didn’t work, so they said “Put Vaseline on it.” The image of a fat guy with a hairy stomach putting Vaseline on said stomach is NOT THE MOST PLEASANT IMAGE IN THE WORLD. I think that was ickier than the fact that he had the botfly larva to begin with. (The Vaseline didn’t work either and they had to surgically remove the botfly larva.) And finally, and I can’t remember the details of these ones, there was Guy Who Was In Race and Got Some Sort of Germy Parasite and Puked His Guts Out; and Guy Who Went Swimming in Some River in a Foreign Country and Got a Fish Up His Penis. Yes. A FISH. A really, really skinny fish, but—a fish.
I’m sure everyone’s all freaked out now. You’re welcome.
7.17.03
Upon watching Big Brother last night, I have come to the conclusion that certain people must be portrayed in all reality TV shows. Well, at least the major ones, like Survivor, Big Brother, Amazing Race, etc. First, there must be one old guy/father figure/retired Army general. OG/FF/RAG must be gruff, but have a soft side. Second, there must be at least one minority. African-American (wow, I was actually politically correct) seems to be the most popular, but Asian is starting to usurp it, I think. Next you have to have the obligatory substantially-breasted supermodel, who more often than not has implants. Then you’ve got your hot-to-some-people-yet-plain-to-others girl, who sort of sits out of the spotlight and glides under the radar, which of course is her plan to win it all, because nobody will really hate her and perhaps people will actually forget about her if she doesn’t draw attention to herself to be voted out. Fifth, there must be one blonde cheerleader, or someone who would be a cheerleader, anyway. Finally, and I think this will become a tradition on Big Brother, you must have the mandatory Completely Psycho Guy Who Will Inevitably Be Expelled.
I think there are two kinds of psycho in the world. There’s the kind of psycho that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are psycho and you’re like “Um. I’m going to go stand over here now.” And then there’s the kind of psycho where you’re not exactly sure if they are psycho but they seem to be on the verge of snapping all the time. It’s like they’re in the vestibule of psychoticness. Is that a word? I don’t care, I’m making it one. Anywhoozle, a perfect example of this is Michael Ian Black. Okay. If you’ve ever seen VH1’s “I Love the 80’s,” which repeats about 5000 times every week, you’ve seen him. And if you’ve ever heard him talk, you keep thinking that he is going to snap, but he never does. He’s got this sort of really soft, quiet voice. I honestly don’t think he’s capable of raising his voice beyond about two decibels. Just listen to this guy talk and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. (Any fans of Michael Ian Black out there who may think I’m dissing him, I’m not. He’s hot.)
7.15.03
You know what’s really funny? Watching my dog snap at bugs that fly near his face. I’m not sure why he does this, but it’s exceedingly amusing. My guess is that his dog food does not contain the US recommended daily allowance of moth.
From the “This Should Be on a Christmas Card or Throw Pillow” files: Yesterday my dog was sleeping and my cat came and snuggled up against him and went to sleep as well. [hears collective “awwwwww” from every single soccer mom and 15-year-old girl in the country]
I hate doing this in MS Word. If I want to put asterisks around a phrase to denote action (as in the above sentence that is in brackets), it turns the phrase bold! I don’t want it to be bold!! I want the goddamn asterisks!!
Current Favorites: Food: Manicotti (yes, still) Drink: Hazelnut Frappuccinoes from Starbucks Song: Hm. I don’t really have one right now, but the last one was the White Stripes’ Seven Nation Army. Book(s): Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. Also The Book of Ratings by Lore F. Sjöberg. I kid you not, this is truly the funniest book I’ve ever read. Movie: American Beauty, with Spirited Away trying to usurp it Word: Ovenable. Apparently, this is a real word. I saw it on the plastic cover of a microwaveable rotisserie deli chicken. I’m serious; it said “Not Ovenable.” I’m thinking that someone thought that since “microwave” could be used as a verb, “oven” could as well. You can’t use “oven” as a verb. When was the last time you looked at some food and thought, “I’m going to oven a chicken for dinner”?
Well, I’m hungry now. I’m gonna go oven me a couple of corn dogs.
7.13.03
I FINALLY got around to transcribing another of Daria’s guides, so it’s in that section.
I was at the mall yesterday at Hot Topic and noticed they had the Dropkick Murphy’s new CD Blackout in the little listening station bin. My Irish blood noticed it and yes, I know blood can’t talk, obviously, but if it could I think this would have been the conversation that ensued:
Irish Blood: You know, you really haven’t been paying attention to me for a while. Buy that. It’ll make me happy. Me: But … it’s like nineteen bucks, and I don’t know if I’d like it or not… Irish Blood: (sigh) That’s what that listening station doohickey is there for. Just listen to the damned thing, would you? Me: Fine. [dons headphones; one minute later] Huh. I think I like this. [five minutes later] I DO like this. Irish Blood: Seeeee, I told you. You’re gonna buy it, right? Me: But it’s almost twenty— Irish Blood: Buy it! Or I’ll sucker-punch you in the dead of night! Me: Alright, alright, jeez, I’ll buy it! Man. Irish Blood: Good girl. Now go buy me some Lucky Charms and let’s go home and watch The Matchmaker. Me: Don’t push it.
Anywhoozle, yes, I did buy it, and I hereby decree that everyone else should go out and buy it too. It’s really awesome. I’d never really heard anything by the Dropkick Murphys before, but then I’d never heard of Sleater-Kinney before about seven, eight months ago, and now they’re my favorite band.
I also bought “Get Fuzzy: Groovitude” at Waldenbooks. Funny shit, man. I [heart] Get Fuzzy. I actually used to not like it when it premiered in our paper but now it’s one of my favorites, if not my favorite.
7.07.03
Some cool music… This is Sesshoumaru’s theme, from Inuyasha. Hopefully it’ll work…
7.06.03
I didn’t do anything for the fourth. I went down the road and was able to watch all the fireworks that were being shot off downtown. Vicarious holidays are great.
I now have 50 Inuyasha episodes, and I’m downloading 51-55 as I type.
I watched the South Park movie last night on Comedy Central. I missed it the first time it aired because I fell asleep around twelve thirty, but last night I drank coffee so I’d be sure to stay awake. God damn, I love that movie. And the fact that they aired it uncensored and completely uncut on Comedy-Fucking-Central, well, as someone on gamefaqs.com said (and I’m paraphrasing here): “The world is much closer to becoming a happier place.”
6.30.03
Dammit. I may have to get rid of KazaaLite. The whole RIAA-is-going-to-sue people thing, you know? But this totally pisses me off because if I do, how am I going to be able to get my Inuyasha episodes? I only have up to, I think 38, and there’s like 115 total episodes, or more, I think.
I saw the weeriest commercial the other day. It’s for some tooth-whitening shit or something like that and there’s this chick who’s dreaming that she’s doing Riverdance with a bunch of William Shatner clones.
I’m going to repeat that, because it bears repeating.
She’s doing RIVERDANCE with a bunch of WILLIAM SHATNER CLONES.
Seriously. What the hell is this world coming to?
I haven’t seen this commercial very many times, but I hate it: the one in which there’s a cartoon beaver extolling the virtues of some crap toothpaste. I just love when the real-life chick says “How do you keep your teeth so white, Mr Beaver?” “I use [I Can’t Remember The Name Of This Crap-Ass Toothpaste]. It’s got herbs.” So, what you’re saying is if I just take my Crest (ahh … good old regular Crest, the only toothpaste worth using in my opinion) and add some basil, some oregano, some cilantro, I can get my teeth whiter? I think it’d be more like, “What did you brush your teeth with? Spaghetti sauce?” Also if anyone who did that commercial paid ANY attention WHATSOEVER in science class or watched the Discovery Channel AT ALL they’d know that beavers’ teeth are actually orange, and I read somewhere that white teeth on rodents is a sign of impending death. (But I can’t be sure about that.) So apparently Mr Beaver is about to bite the big one. No pun intended.
6.24.03
2000 hits!! Yay! Confetti! Confetti for everyone!! Now go and pick it out of your hair.
Huh. I seem to have nothing to say besides that…
6.20.03
Have you ever found yourself singing along to a song on the radio that you hate, solely because you’ve heard the song so many times, and you don’t even realize you’re doing it?
Announcement: VH1 is completely insane. No reason, other than that … well, they ARE. I don’t wanna remember the ‘80s! I wanna forget the ‘80s! (Wait, that was kind of redundant. Oh well. My fucking journal, my fucking grammar.) Paraphrasing Someone-Whose-Name-I-Can’t-Remember, from brunchma.com: “Boy, we sure do love the ‘80s. Let’s show everyone how much, until their eyeballs burn out.” And will someone please tell me, when in the name of the Roman god of washed-up child stars did Soleil Moon Frye (aka Punky Brewster) start looking like Alanis Morissette?
6.18.03
God dammit. There is no ailment more annoying than a sore throat. There are two things I hate about a sore throat besides of course the searing pain. One: Menthol throat drops. I’d like to know what sadist invented the menthol cough drop so I can strangle him. (Or her.) Is there anything—ANYTHING—on this earth that tastes worse than a menthol cough drop? Besides possibly Altoids. And news flash, people: CHERRY DOES NOT MAKE MENTHOL TASTE ANY BETTER. In fact, it has quite the opposite effect. The second thing I hate about having a sore throat is people who try to talk to me when I have a sore throat. I mean even AFTER I’ve told them my throat hurts they still feel the need to carry on a goddamned conversation with me. I do not get this. I mean I’m like trying to communicate via hand gestures and pointing at my throat that “My throat hurts. I cannot talk to you. Go away.”
I also hate Alka-Seltzer Plus Cold medicine. It’s this unnerving shade of traffic-cone orange and tastes not unlike a mediciney version of the somewhat-orange-flavored soda that’s available at fast food restaurants that mostly cater to the under-6 crowd. I just hate the stuff so much.
I watched part of “American Juniors” last night solely out of morbid curiosity. Some of those kids were just too damn cute for their own good. I took notes, but only after the second half of the show. I was hoping I could have gotten through that show without hearing that abominable “Colors of the Wind” song. And I don’t think the kid who sang “A Whole New World” was even born when “Aladdin” first came out. In fact, I wonder if half these kids had even heard of these songs before, like, a week ago at the time of their performance. And that Tyler kid who sang that Sting song—every one of his classmates was thinking the same thing: “I am going to beat that kid to a pulp tomorrow morning.”
sick sick sick…
6.16.03
I think I’m getting a cold. I’ve been sneezing for like three days and right now I have a sore throat. I woke up this morning and couldn’t swallow. Yippee. Oh, and I think I’m getting a headache. Why don’t the gods just kill me now?
Pleh. I feel like shit.
6.14.03
So last night I ordered “Spirited Away” on pay-per-view and … I think I may very well have a new favorite movie. I don’t wanna give anything away, though, but let’s just say it’s freakin’ brilliant. Of course, I understood it; I don’t know if my parents would have, though.
*eating cold pizza, with black olives*
I think I’m addicted to Homestar Runner. I love Strongbad’s Emails.
Oh! Man! I have the perfect idea for an anime music video. It would be to Audioslave’s “Shadow on the Sun,” and it would be—what else?—Inuyasha, of course. When I hear that song I can literally see the entire concept of the video in my head—what scenes would go with which lyrics, stuff like that. Now, if I only knew how to do it…
I also think Garbage’s “Can’t Seem to Make You Mine” would make a great Lupin and Fujiko (from “Lupin the 3rd”) video, as well. This one would be more on the humorous side, while the Audioslave/Inuyasha one would be more serious. But right now, they’re only concepts—I haven’t even gotten the plans down on paper yet. I don’t even know how to make an anime music video—yet.
6.13.03
I reposted the “meeting Daria” entry from last month below. Luckily I’d copied and pasted THAT one at least…
Thoughts from the Mall:
--How come nobody ever pays attention to me unless I have my wallet? Can sales clerks smell leather?
--Uhhh! For the love of God, people, can you not move a little faster??
--Whose brilliant idea was it to put Camelot Music and Sam Goodys at opposite ends of the mall? If I were still in highschool all this walking should probably count towards my PE credit...
--Hm. The CD I want is $18.99 at Sam Goody's and $18.98 at Camelot... but I'm at Sam Goody's. Do I really wanna walk all that way to save a penny?
--I really can't walk anymore. *plops down on bench*
--People-watching is great. But I wish Romeo and Juliet over there would get a freakin' room.
--Heh, all those geeks and losers going into the Software Etc. *enters Software Etc.*
--OH MY GOD!!! THEY HAVE "THE LEGEND OF ZELDA" LINK ACTION FIGURES!! Schweetness!!
-- ... Oh. Crap. They only have Goron and Zora Link. I want regular plain old "human" Link.
--Am I the only girl in here? ... I think I am.
--Oh, wait, there's a girl with her boyfriend--she's looking disinterested while he's previewing the "Enter the Matrix" game. Sweetie, if you'd been playing video games for nearly eleven years like I have, you wouldn't be so bored... you'd be kicking your boyfriend's ass!
--I gotta get outta here. That hot guy behind the counter just caught me staring--uh, I mean glancing at him.
--I need to go to Sweet Factory. Do I want buttered popcorn Jelly Bellys, or those little mints with the sprinkles on the bottom that you get at weddings?
--Walking, walking, walking, I'm singin' the walkin' song... la de da...
--Huh. They seem to be out of buttered popcorn Jelly Bellys. Wedding mints it is then.
--*munch munch munch*
--I've probably lost about six pounds just walking through this damned place...
6.12.03
From the Embarrassing Highschool Moments Files: (Do not read if you are eating, are planning to eat, or have eaten within the last hour.)
One time, when I was a junior, I was in Family Finance class—I think it was during Take Care of the Mechanical Baby Week (I cheated on mine; details later)—and like thirty minutes before class got out I started feeling really, really sick. However, as a freshman I was the kind of person who faked sick A LOT. So I’m thinking, yeah, nobody will believe me, and besides if I don’t make any sudden movements I can probably keep from spewing all over the damned place. But I just felt like absolute shit. So class got over and I got up and immediately I was like “Oh, god, I don’t feel so good…” But I thought I might be able to make it to the bathroom, at least. I was taking a shortcut through the cafeteria and literally about ten feet from a garbage can, I just fucking puked up all over the goddamn place. All over the fucking floor, man. I was like “God dammit!” So I went to the office to call home, and there were like three or four other people sitting there looking sickly-miserable, including my friend Stephanie, who asked “Are you sick?” “Yeah,” I groaned. “Join the club,” she said. I’m not sure what I had, but there was something going around.
Mechanical babies! We had to take care of those damned things. There was a hole on the back of the cyber-kid, and if it “cried” you had to stick a key-like thing into the hole, but it wouldn’t stay there on its own, so you had to hold the kid and hold the key in as well. Also if you turned the kid upside down to try to keep the key in by the force of gravity there was like a sensor or something inside it that registered like … child abuse or something. Anywhoozle, after about three days of basically killing my wrist trying to keep that goddamn key in, I learned that you could just set the cyber-kid down on a hard surface very carefully and the key would stay in. (When the kid “cried” again it was time to take the key out, which was infinitely easier.) In seventh grade, we had the “egg babies,” which while not having any keys to jam into their backs, did have the “drop and break” factor going for them. I think mine was a boy. And it lasted about four days. It died when my notebook accidentally nudged it off my desk. Oops.
I also added a “new” hate-guestbook-entry to the hatemail section, but lost the old one, because Lycos’ server is REALLY REALLY CRAPPY.
6.10.03
Well, lovely little Tina is back. And she’s still pissed off. Poor darling.
On another note: I’ve been sigged on brunchma.com! Huzzah!!
I’m doing this in Microsoft Word (so I won’t lose the damned thing again!), and the little paper clip dude is Driving Me Crazy. He keeps blinking at me… does anyone know how to get that little bastard to go away??
I think I got another hate-guestbook-entry, so I’ll wax sarcastic on that a little later…
God dammit, I feel sick…
Oh! I almost forgot! I found this great website the other day. Well, it’s not “great” in the sense that it’s anything spectacular, but it’s just freaking hilarious, but it’s not MEANT to be hilarious… well, just go there and check for yourself! A Mighty Wind: Hell Index Basically the entire site is like “I went to Hell and heard a song being sung off key, because you can only sing off key in Hell!” I’m like, “Well, that oughta shut Mariah Carey up, anyway.” But the “song” that she talks about is on the website for download, and I swear it just sounds like some goddamn 20-year-old kid singing purposefully off-key and his friends providing occasional ambient background screams. There’s absolutely NO proof whatsoever that it actually came from Hell. And she said there were like worms crawling out of “every opening on his body.” The mouth is an opening, right? If so, then I don’t see how he could have sung anyway, it would be all muffled and shit, wouldn’t it? Oh, and I also go to Your [sic] Going to Hell, which besides being Blatantly Grammatically Incorrect, takes Shoving Your Religion Down Someone Else’s Throat to another level. It’s like “If you’re not EXACTLY like this or that, you are most definitely going to Hell.” I know I’m going to Hell. I’ve pretty much relegated myself to it. When I get there I’m gonna bitch-slap Kurt Cobain for killing himself. Or actually, I’ll break off one of his branches… please tell me you know your Dante… But I’m digressing. To be fair, not all religious fanatics have the IQ of a blueberry muffin. What The Hell is Hell? is a great website, and I mean great in the literal sense. It even has an essay on whether Judas went to heaven or hell, which was really rather interesting.
6.09.03
Well, I got most of my stuff back, but I had to retype all of it. Tina the Troubled Teen and all other graphics will be reinstated as soon as I figure out the web addresses again. But I'm extraordinarily pissed off that I've lost like a month and a half's worth of entries, even though most of those were devoid of content.
6.08.03
GOD DAMMIT. I have never, ever, ever, ever, EVER been so pissed off in my life!!! Everything on the main page is gone, and I can't get it back. I still do however have the archives, but everything on this page is lost forever. God fucking dammit!! I really have no earthly idea how this happened...
5.03.03 (REPOSTED 6.13.03)
Oh my fucking god. I had the BEST fucking time last night. Kreeeee!! Oh, god, where to start ... well, on Wednesday, I think, I'd heard on the radio that Gustav and Daria of NRK (like I haven't mentioned them a BILLION times before) were gonna be at Dante's which is a bar in Portland for a Matrix soundtrack listening party. I honestly didn't give a fuck about the Matrix crap, I just wanted to meet Daria, because I'd emailed that chick SO many times… And I did! Woo hoo!!! I didn't know what she looked like--there are pics of her on the NRK website but they're like really old--and it was kind of ironic that a guy that had never even HEARD of her for godssakes started to introduce me to her but didn't get a chance to finish before I jumped impatiently in.
"I'm Zanny," I said.
I think I spoke a little too softly, or the music was too loud, or something, but she didn't understand me the first time. "Sadie?" she said.
"No, Zanny," I said, speaking as loud as I could over the blasting Rage Against the Machine (or whatever it was that was playing at that particular moment). She looked at me for a split second and then I swear to god her face just fucking lit up. "Hiiiiiiii!" she squealed. "Oh, my god, it's so great to finally meet you!" So we talked for a while--the details of which my tiny little brain can't remember (well, actually, I can, I just don’t feel like typing it…), on account of I was a wee bit drunk; not too much, mind you, just enough to be a little uninhibited. (I didn’t even drink very much of my drink. I didn’t like it. Some sort of alcoholic-coffee thing. I only like coffee if it’s got Coffee-Mate hazelnut coffee cream in it.) But I did get her autograph and she hugged me TWICE (woo ha!) and I got my picture taken with her. She even sat AT my table and after the party was over let me use her cell phone to call my mom ('cause I don't drive and my mom had to come pick me up). Anywhoozle, she's just so fucking awesome.