Something beautiful is happening inside of me Something sensual, it's full of fire and mystery I feel hypnotized - I feel paralyzed I have found heaven
I've had to exert a super-human degree of self control these past two weeks to keep from updating while suffocating under a ginormous mountain of schoolwork. HAD. TO. PRIORITIZE! Gah, .
Turns out, being a lazy bum and only half unpacking from Jersey last weekend was actually a good thing.. because now I only had to half-pack for zee beach this weekend! Same clothes? ALL GOOD!
Okay, totally pointless entry.. just wanted to say bye. Hopefully I can put away some time when I get back to regale you all with tales of the funky, whack (but always interesting) shit that's been going down lately. Sayonara!
I am tacking these onto my life's "To-Do" list, right underneath "threesome with Japanese twins". Oh shit, wait a minute - whose list is this? ...... Damn you, Austin Powers! You have my list!
So I'm still hacking like an 80 yr. old smoker and hating life... but I think I'll live. Every now and then my brain begins devolving into a hot, throbbing glob of gelatin, so I suspect my next few entries will be a hodgepdoge of random, incoherent dribble.. but you'll still love me, right?*left eye twitches*. Don't make me put your bunny in a pot.*
*For those born late or post-80's - don't worry 'bout it. Just wait and see.
However, zee beloved interwebz always manage to provide a few bright spots to my day! Behold:
There's this one graphic t-shirt site I adore so much I want to make sweet, sweet love to it. They had this one design that I was instantly smitten with upon first viewing, but I waited just a tad too long to order and it went out of print! Huge bummer. I put my vote in for a reprint, but since there's no guarantee I soon forgot about it. Flash forward a few months: I open up my inbox yesterday, and guess what? They're REPRINTING THE SHIRT!Yeehaw! Baby, You. Are. MINE, .
Lookie, this design will soon be emblazoned across my chest in bright green:
.... Puahahaaaaaa. Makes me all warm inside. Okay, I realize this may not be everyone's kind of humor, but it sure as hell is mine. So crude, so misanthropic, so ME. (Note: If this in fact isn't your sort of humor... um, what the heezy are you doing here? The type of crap I regularly spout makes this shirt look like something from Frasier. Fo' rizzles). But yeah, I'm snatching it up this time. In two weeks' time, it'll be signed, sealed, and delivered to my door, .
Secondly, I stumbled onto a video all sorts of awesome. Now wait! I know the last bajillion vids I posted made the girls cry and the guys.... also cry, then run out and beat up some orphans to feel manly again, but I promise this will make up for it. Especially if you enjoyed that news special on the "crackheads" who thought they saw a leprechaun in a tree. (Yes, you read that right. If you haven't seen it, I strongly suggest a viewing - especially since we're so near St. Patty's Day, ). Both videos are chock full of hilarity, I promise.
In other news, my brother is applying for a medical internship program this summer and I'm sitting here, delirium and all, basically writing his damn entrance essay for him. Shiiiiiet. All I know is when he becomes a doctor, I better get a lifetime of free medical care. And a cut of the profit. And... maybe even a kidney, if need be.
Question: If you pleasure yourself to porn that was recommended by a good friend, knowing that they recommended it to you, that it's imprinted with their essence, that there's a 99% chance they also pleasured themselves to that exact same scene, and that they actually thought about you enough during/after watching it to suggest it in the first place... by law of transitivity, aren't you basically touching yourself to them?
Aren't you basically touching them?
Aren't you basically HAVING SEX WITH YOUR FRIEND without them knowing about it?!?!?!??!
...........
I'm asking purely out of curiousity here. Really. *wrings hands anxiously*
Did I.. *blinks*.. did I just make it through today alive? More importantly, did I just deeestroy both my midterms?!
FUCK YEAH!! *air guitar*, *Michael Jackson leg kick*
In your face, Circadian rhythm. Suck on it, influenza! Suck it hard and good. Dude, I can't believe today is finally over. And I can't believe I made it through on a paltry two hours of sleep - I was a little freaked out that I might have still been asleep and the whole thing (waking up, driving to school, taking the exam) was just a dream. That, unfortunately, would not have been a first. However, I'm still pretty pissed I had to miss the documentary I've been itching to see for months now, one I basically spent Tuesday trying to force people to see with me.. then, a few hours later, having to call back with, "Umm.. hehe. Scratch that. I'm gonna be too busy cramming furiously and spontaneously combusting." Does anyone know where I can find it online? Or download it? Ayudame, por favor! Culeros!
Woohoos: Springbreak is here, and not a moment too soon. Even more awesome, 10,000 BC is fiiinnaallllyy out, and by God, I'm going to see it tomorrow. I've been counting down since last fall, and even the jizz of Satan roiling in the back of my throat isn't going to stop me.
Boohoos: Florida and South Carolina for SB are both officially scrapped. Ah well, I'd rather wait 'til it gets good and hot before I start prancing around in a bikini, anyhow. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
Zee Plan: Hardcore hibernation until I sleep off this cold/flu abomination. Pick up the bedroom decorating I left off mid-semester last winter. And lastly, tutor my brother for the SATs (awww, I know, right? Don't worry, he's paying me back with laundry and vacuum duties for the next year. Kidding!.... really, ).
Until then, ciao bellas!
*retreats back under blanket, takes out gallon of OJ and looks for funnel*
One of my absolute worst (realistic) fears came true today. Except.. it happened to someone else.
There I was sitting in class, finishing up my stat exam, when a girl sitting on the far left of the room cries out something to the instructor. At first I think she's asking a question, but then she repeats it and it sounds something like, "I'mgonnapsshdhoof". "What?" asks the instructor."I'm GONNA PASS OUT." He rushes over to her side, and I assume that he asks her what's going on, because the next thing I hear is: "I have really bad cramps".
WHAT?NO WAY. It can't be. Can it?
The class grinds to a dead halt and everyone stops to gape at the commotion. The instructor calls the campus paramedic team, then they call the ambulance and stay there to wait with her. And yes, this is all happening inside of the classroom. By this time, I'm totally finished with my exam.. and I'm debating whether to be mature and leave, or be a prick and stay to catch the action. Obviously, I stay.
Soooo... I'm sitting there like the queen of douches, pretending to go over my answers while the paramedics ask her a laundry list of questions. At this point, she is laid flat out on the ground next to the desks, struggling to stay conscious. What's wrong?, they ask. Cramps, she says. On a scale of 1-10, how bad is the pain? Nine, she says. Are you on any meds? Midol. What?, they ask again. MIDOL, she's forced to repeat loudly.
HOLY SHITBALLS. How. Fackin'. Mortifying. And yes, in case you're wondering, this is indeed (at least part of) my fear. Being struck by an agonizing, soul-crushing, mind-numbing bout of abdominal torture otherwise known as "period pain" completely out of left field and doubling over, being reduced to a puddle of tears, or passing out in middle of class (or any public venue), rendered totally helpless. Not to mention being publicly humiliated in the process. The second half of this fear involves getting a wicked case of the runs in public, which has actually already happened countless times -- in class, at clubs, while driving, at amusement parks, in DC gridlock en route to a fucking stage musical I paid $95 for (another story for another day) -- so.. I guess at this point it no longer constitutes as a "phobia"- it's just my sad, sad reality.
*By the way, I didn't stay to gawk at her in some voyeuristic, sadistic,
entertainment-seeking way. I stayed to gawk because I was absolutely fixated on the manifestation of my personal nightmare coming to life before my very eyes.*
But I digress! By now I'm thinking... okay, I've milked this for way too long. I turn in my test, then, while in the bathroom, realize that I have a full bottle of Motrin IB in my backpack. (Ladies, as an aside: MOTRIN IB is the ultimate destroyer, obliterator, and annihilator of menstrual pain. It is 200 mg of ass-kicking voodoo. It pwnzers Advil, Excedrin, Tylenol, even Midol! Yes, I have tried all of those. And yes, it gets bad enough sometimes that I feel like ripping a phone book in half. Gentlemen: if you're wondering what all the fuss is about, try imagining being mauled by a hemmorhoidal lion on crystal meth. Now imagine surviving and repeating it on a monthly basis).
Anyway, I immediately trot back to the classroom and try to offer some to the poor girl, but apparently no one is allowed to administer any medication. But, hey.. at least I tried. So I'm not a total asshat. Right? Right. And no, I did not make that last part up and toss it in in a clumsy attempt to salvage some remaining semblance of decency. Really!... *bats eyelashes*.
*Dear God/Krishna/Mana/FlyingSpaghettiMonster: Please please PLEASE save me from this terrible fate. I will sacrifice a million chickens, goats, or virgins for you. I have no objection to this because I won't be among any of them, .*
Aw, nuts. My subscribers list has seemingly doubled in the past few days. I hate it when this happens! Too. Much. Pressure.Makes me feel like I'm trapped in a swarm of anonymous faces encircling me, throwing coins and screaming "Dance, Monkey. DANCE!" Not pleasant. Besides, if you really want a dance it should be crumpled dollars, not coins, and they should be delicately tucked between my ass checks with your teeth, not gauchely chucked my way.
But seriously - just so you know, I suck. I do. My entries typically consist of cute pictures of babies and puppies, a catalog of things I bought that day and designer items I wish to buy in the future, bitching and moaning about guys, and a tedious account of my day (ex: Woke up, ate breakfast (90 calories!), bought Starbucks, saw totally cute shoes, grabbed dinner with sister, sleep now. Bye guys! Will update you again tomorrow). Occasionally, I'll throw in a few tortured, emo poems and suggestive pictures of myself in various stages of undress (that have nothing to do with the topic, btw) to break up the monotony... but mostly to add to the cyber-shrine I'm building to myself. No one wants to read that kind of stuff, right?
*sub lists doubles again, then triples, then Xanga blows up*
When's the last time you cried like a little bitch?
Me: Two minutes ago. You: Two minutes from now.
I'm a bit late on this, but I just learned via a certain blog I stalk that a Thai life insurance company is employing the most devious, insidiously genius ad campaign EVER... all by simply making every one of us cry like WoW geeks on Valentine's Day. Friggin' aye, it's been a while since I've cried (those instances being few and extremely far between).. but these ads just get RIGHT UP in that soft, weepy, sentimental part of my psyche. They worm in and manipulate my puny porn-addled brain in all the right spots and rape the shit out of all the right buttons.
So I thought I'd spread the love around 'cause after all, a good cry is sort of like a good orgasm. Culmination of a build-up of sensation, expulsion of liquids, then sweet release and relief, .
I've ordered them from least blubber-inducing to most blubber-inducing.
In other words, we're going from ones that made my lip quiver and eyes
pool up to ones that struck me with the most violent of full-out
bawling, tears-streaming-cheeks, snot-collecting-in-pool,
chest-convulsing, "How could you do this God?!??!"-face, sobfests.
*For those with short attention spans, you can just skip to the top 3.. you heartless bastards*
6. "Daddy" (for the Viet readers, does anyone else think that in the
first few frames, the doctor looks like the host of Paris by Night?
Yeah? That made snort a bit. Snort through my tears, that is)
5. "Marry Me"
4. "Grandma"
3. "Grandpa"
2. "My Son"
1.
"My Girl" (And we have our winner! Does anyone have an entire box of
Kleenex or super absorbent tampons I can just jam in my tear ducts? And up my sinuses? Make that two boxes.)
P.S. If you didn't cry, and are instead now thinking "Stupid girl.. what cheesy, mawkish dreck" - Fuck you. When you get leukemia, no one is going to love and marry you "A Walk To Remember" style. So BOOYAH! Booyah right in yo' tear-free, non-puffy face.. you shell of a human.
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