Tuesday, August 31
New layout here. I was tired of calling myself a motherfucker every time I opened up my own journal. This one's simple. But it's Scott Weiland, so it's hot. If you haven't noticed, all my layouts are practically the same. Bada bing, bada boom, change this, new background picture, move this, move that, voila! New layout.

I've been posting nothing but short shitful entries and even wasting more of whoever's reading this's time with pointless pictures. Pointless just like myself. A long awaited lengthy wordful entry is due. Well, here you go, fuckheads.

Haha, Riki Rachtman's on When The Partridge Family Ruled the World. He's cool, so he can do whatever the fuck he wants, even be on a Macdonald's commercial imitating Justin Timberlake, "I'm lovin' it!" David Cassidy was hot. I don't care what you say. I'd tap that ass if I could. For some reason every time I hear "Partridge Family," I think of Pepperidge Farm bread. They both go hand in hand.

I think I love you! So what am I so afraid of?

Sorry for that brief break-into-song moment, but I seriously would dance around and clap my hands in flower butt-patched brown bellbottoms if I had them. And a Partridge Family vinyl album playing in a tweed encased record player. That's right, I'd look like the long lost foreign Brady Bunch member.

I'm hooked on "Mr. Brownstone." It's such a catchy song.

Last night at around 1 or 2 in the morning I was watching The Best: Top 10 Creepiest Destinations. Scary shit, man. Yeah, I'm a fucking chicken. Even a canary that shits on pages of Rolling Stone covering the bottom of its cage is braver than I am. But out of stupid fucktarded curiosity I kept watching it anyway. #1 had these freaky photos of a dead man sitting on a sofa with his head bashed in about 9 or 10 times with a pick axe. Thank goodness it wasn't in color, for I would've jumped out of bed like a little biatcha and knocked on my parents' door crying like a 3 year old twice their size. That is not a good sight.

Then again, I don't want to knock on their door in the middle of the night.

No, I will not get my head out of the gutter.

It's water, add shampoo and I can wash my hair.

Today my mom made me clean my sneakers with rubbing alcohol for Thursday. I used to get a new pair every year, but since my feet have stopped growing I guess that tradition's over with. The alcohol for some reason smelled good to me, but I forced myself from drinking it. I wouldn't want my insides to burn like acid. My death wish is 30. I'll have more time to plan things until then.

Anyway, after that I had to lace them. The fancy way. Not the ugly ass criss-cross way. It took me a half hour or 45 minutes trying to find out how, and I still didn't get it. I am that fucked up in the cranium, my friend. Don't ever ask me to help you with anything that involves problem solving. My ass got seriously numb from sitting on the fireplace, but I kept trying anyway. Then my mom came along and after two tries in less than 4 minutes, she got one shoe. Then I had to copy the way she did it with the other shoe. Jeez. I bet a weiner dog on heroin has a bigger brain capacity than I do.

Been working on a Led Zeppelin website for a while. Only got the entry page finished. No, I will not put a fucking link to it. And I don't feel like working on it any longer for the meanwhile.

Jimmy, I have failed you, my dear.




I made this for the new community I just joined in livejournal, daily_weiland. After completing it, I felt very horny and lonely. That is not a very good combination.

shangri la dee da dee da dee da ta da!




Monday, August 30
I promised to myself that I'd keep a promise for once and take a picture of my new shoes to show Shaina. Well, I couldn't find them. My mom seems to have hid them somewhere else beyond my not so vast knowledge. So, I took a picture of the other new pair that I got a while ago but have never worn either. One thing led to another and before I knew it Jimmy Page got into the picture.

"top jimmy!" diamond dave said.

edit. A lot of the pictures are lost. Thanks to my shitheadedness. Sorry for the inconvenience.




My ass hurts. Probably from the agony from the VMA's. I'm not watching it, but folks are telling me about it.

Talk about fashion faux pas.


Indigo blue leather jacket. That is so Pee Wee Herman's color.



Sunday, August 29
Guns n fucking Roses. Best shit out there. The long car ride to New York gave me time to finally listen and analyze some of my new cds. Including Appetite for Destruction, which I burned from the brand new 50 pack of CDR's I just got. I had always been screaming inside deep in my little candy heart that says "FUCK OFF" inside my ribs that I call my blood pumping heart for at least just one Guns n Roses album.

Thanks a bunch Carrie! =D =D =D

Blah blah blah. Sorry kids, I've run out of funnies for now. My creative juices haven't been flowing. Neither has my blood, because I'm as tired as a crack addict that's been running on the freeway bare-assed for 5 hours.

My wish of owning an issue of Classic Rock Magazine has still not fucking come true yet. Borders didn't have any copies. And sadly enough, my dear Barnes and Noble didn't either. The guy who worked there and tried to help me find it had really hot eyes. But he would've been completely hot if he were skinnier. Anyway, enough with my adolescent horniness. He said that they only recieve a few copies every month and the next shipment would be around next week. I need it for school, in case of boredom. I know I know, I'll need at least 10 more magazines to get through to the time of the next shipment, but oh well. But then I spotted something far better than any cheesecake or 10 foot brownie.

JIMMY PAGE WAS ON THE HUGE COVER OF MOJO MAGAZINE.

It had a free cd with Robert Johnson's original version of "Travelling Riverside Blues," articles featuring The Hives, and Rufus Wainwright. Hotness.



Saturday, August 28
We went shopping today. I didn't even know we were supposed to. Office Max, looked at kitchen appliance at Karl's, and then to Willowbrook Mall. I like that mall cuz it has marble floors and isn't a shitty Simon mall, where that fucker Ryan Cabrera could possibly be moving his mouth blurting out crap even more mindless than my crap that he calls singing and plucking his guitar like a duck plucks a ukelele.

I got new shoes that my mom paid for and we'd share them. Weird, she's 3 or 4 inches shorter than me and we wear the same shoe size. But hey it's cool she's got a whole closet filled up 4 feet high full of shoeboxes with sometimes even 2 pairs in them. She barely even wears any from the top layer of boxes.

No hot guys. Very depressing. Extremely depressing. Nothing but wiggers with ugly fuck ass bright red and blue basketball jerseys long enough to be evening gowns from the middle ages. And shiny enough for Cher to wear at a concert in front of an audience of 300,000 middle aged men who collect vintage Barbie dolls and still live with their parents who survive on locking themselves in iron lungs and carry-on oxygen tanks.

I had cinnabon sticks from Cinnabon. They tasted good. The pecan cinnamon rolls do not taste good.

Last night I had two nightmares. Two. That's what I get for going to bed fucking early. Early as in 1:00 in the morning. As opposed to my usual 3:00 in the morning. If you're one of those people who loooove to sleep and think people who don't like to sleep are fucking crazy, well then I'm insanely fucking crazy. I have no idea why I'm prone to nightmares, it's no fun, assholes. Probably cuz I'm a horrible and incredibly shitty person, and this is my punishment. Until I die of drinking ammonia by accident thinking it was Sprite and have my skin slowly disintegrate like toxic acid to conrete. And my esophagus burn up like a bad report card in a cozy bonfire by the beach.



Friday, August 27
Hahahaha I had so much fun with this. Under the supervision of Shaina telling me whom to draw, the product was some hilarious shit. This is the most I've drawn all summer. And it's going to end in less than a week. Sorry some of the light gray is kind of purple, but saving it to the gif format so it could be posted here is the sacrifice of the correct color. And most of them have sunglasses because I can't draw eyes for shit.

duff, pull your fucking pants up



Thursday, August 26
Lesson that I've learned today: Never get a cellphone. I'm bad enough with regular phones and payphones.

So I ended up not having anyone with me. Neither did Jeannie haha no one called either of us. YOU GUYS SUCK. GO LISTEN TO GWAR AND SHOVE A WRENCH UP YOUR ASS.

We watched Without a Paddle. Hahahahaha hilarious shit. Seth Green is one hell of a short white man.

I had a french vanilla cappuchino. Tastes damn good. I bet I could replace drinking water for the rest of my life with french vanilla cappuchinos. Have it delivered to my house in those 5 gallon blue bottles every month. That would be the life. Fuck executive jobs in cubicles and law school. French vanilla cappuchinos and porno mags, and you are set for life.

And along with a bong. But that's extra pleasure.

After the movie was over, we didn't feel like going home and Garden State was playing right across the hall. Well duh, we watched that too. Missed the first 8 minutes and an watched an hour til my mom's cellphone started wringing. Took me 10 seconds to find out it was coming from my jacket. Everyone knew before me. Well sorry, I have bad depth perception with my ears. Then some bitchy old lady sitting somewhere in front probably wearing an 8 day old adult diaper bellowed at me to turn it off. If I hadn't been trying to find out how to turn the damn phone off with my long nails I would've told her to shut her fucking wrinkly mouth and shove that white hair up her ass.

Then we walked out of the theater, turns out my mom called. And walked to Sam Goody til she came to drop Jeannie off and go home. All in all it was a good day.

Wow, a good day.

During dinner there was another funky conversation. We were arguing about why there weren't any security cameras in public bathrooms where people could see your downstairs party and there are security cameras in fitting rooms where people could see your flappy love handles and saggy boobs. There was no settlement, but it was quite the amusing intelligent conversation.

Okay I just finished watching the world premiere of Velvet Revolver's new video. This time without skipping cuz my computer's stupid. The video made me think more positively of the song, probably because of the nice views. Scott is still hot as ever but man, he's a crappy actor. He can't fake emoness. But in conclusion, I still pretty much dislike that song and the video is only good for hot man viewing pleasure.




At last, my stomach pain is gone! Damn sour milk, it finally rid of itself entirely from my system.

So tomorrow I'm going to the movies at 2:00. Not my particular time of choice, considering I still like to sleep during that hour, but Jeannie wants to get out for once and she's going to meet her friend there after my mom drops us off, and I'm free to do whatever I want. I doubt anyone will see my announcement and want to join me. Fuckers. This is your only chance. And I'm not going to chase you down and brand your ass with a cattle prod that says that you're officially going to the movies with me.

I hate it when my mom forces me to shower. Like just a half hour ago. I was busy typing or laughing at Axl or something and she suddenly walks by my door yelling "CHRISTINA GO TAKE A SHOWER YOU SMELL LIKE SHIT!" I know it's childish, but bathing is one of my most least favorite things to do. But I do like smelling like flowers and body soap. It's the process to acheive that aroma that sucks.

I have been busting my ass off all night til the point of numbness that if you shot napalm up my ass i wouldn't feel a thing. Izzy Stradlin, that man never talks. I've searched far and wide on the internet for footage of him talking. None. Not a single thing. He's worse than John Paul Jones! Quieter, hides behind the other guys in the band better, god! But then again, I'd been sidetracking and just looking at pictures of him. He is one hell of a sexy quiet man who never talks.

I even got a new set of icons of him. What a sad, sad, life I live.



Wednesday, August 25
ANYONE WANT TO GO TO THE MOVIES AT AROUND 2:30 OR 3:00 WITH ME AT PARSIPPANY TOMORROW??? IF SO, CALL SOON OR COMMENT OR ELSE YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING GO WHILE I'M TEMPORARILY UNGROUNDED AT: (973) 328-2976.

Oh yeah, and get your own goddamn ride.

I don't know what movie though, cuz they all suck. Probably Without a Paddle or The Exorcist.




Okay, last night I was sitting all alone in my room watching That '70s Show and after Kelso tells Fez that he's beautiful and there's a pause between their dialogue, suddenly from out of nowhere I hear this fart. I'm serious, all lights were off, everyone else was asleep in their room snoring or jacking off or whatever with their doors closed, my door was closed tightly, absolutely no one else was in my room. It's the scariest thing, man, hearing farts out of nowhere.

The most grateful thing was, there was no smell.

A couple of days ago I made a piece of shit just so I could comment and complain on other people's. Seriously, that site fucking sucks and if you think it's for beginners who don't know shit about quality blogging (which they really don't), well, they are full of shit.

Some fucktard has been honking the horn of his car for the entire day and we can't seem to figure out where the fucking car was. If I were one of those old people who never married and all I did was sit on my porch on my rocking chair and throwing nuts at squirrels and children, I'd run out there with a metal bat and fucking club that guy right smack on the back of the head head so hard that his eyes pop out of his head and boogers and snot and 2 pints of blood spew out of his nose and out of his mouth would be skull fragments like hardened parmesian cheese coming out of a shaker. Come on, it's still summer, our windows are up and we can hear everything. Wait until winter when we have wool stuffed in our ears, then honk your horns all you want.

Denis Leary is genius. I watched him on David Letterman last night before the mysterious fart from nowhere thing. That man's cracks compared to mine, mine are like George W. Bush trying to crack jokes while campaigning in Wisconsin. Yes, I suck that bad. I wish he'd adopt me, he fucking kicks that much ass for me to say that. But then again, I don't think he'd want to. I can't even stand myself for god's sake.

Everywhere he goes he looks like he hates everyone around him with the utmost "KISS MY FUCKING IRISH ASS" expression on his face. I wish they'd show more of his standup on tv, fuck you and your Al Franken and Kathy Griffin. Denis Leary's the man.



Tuesday, August 24
No, that is not true.

Two nights ago I drank sour milk that was in the fridge, and ever since I've been feeling like crap. Lesson I learned from this: Always throw up after drinking sour milk, for if you don't it will bring you many a days of pain and suffering. And never buy milk from Chinese supermarkets. For god's sake they even sell moldy bread. Just go and look at the bags of sandwiches. A turquoise dot here, a fuzzy turquoise dot there. Polka dotted bread. Looks pretty, ain'it? Well it doesn't taste good.

Haha, I remember I almost ate a moldy donut. The box had been lying on my aunt's tv shelf for quite a while and it looked appetizing.

The scene today after getting home from Jeannie's, in the kitchen while the mother was grilling beef.

Mom: What do you want?
Moi: It smells good.
Sibling: What smells good?
Mom: My meat!

She should watch what she says, cuz then I'd look insane laughing at an unapparent joke that they didn't get.

We had the most fascinating conversation during dinner eating the cow's meat. Remembering what had happened at Jeannie's when we found a carton of eggs on the kitchen table and I picked one up asking why there were brown eggs and there were white eggs, and after her answer of not knowing, for some goddamn reason I spazzed out and dropped it, letting the poor thing fall to its misery of a little cracked crater dent on the side. I could just see it crying inside, tears running down its smooth exterior of calcium and the same material that seashells are made from, having no hands to get a hanky and wipe them away.

Thank goodness it didn't break and set its yellow and clear splooge onto my navy blue shirt, or my just-washed hair which took forever to suds up and rinse. You have no idea how much I'd love to take a 5 minute shower.

Anyway, if it was anyone who knew about things that came outta their asses it would be my mom. She told me that only brown chickens laid brown eggs and the reason that brown eggs were so expensive was that they were more rare than black or white chickens. I wonder if it's true, cuz she learned all this from a run down school in Vietnam with shit-covered walls and teachers that beat you with rulers.

David Carradine makes the coolest sandwiches. Seriously, in Kill Bill Vol. 2 you should've seen the way he cut those crusts and spread that Hellman's mayo. Man, compared to his, mine literally look like shit that was once a taco and chicken quesadilla from Taco Bell. You should've seen him tackle those pieces of turkey and that knife the size of Jason's with the ease of Ron Jeremy with a brand new 13 year old virgin still wearing her first training bra.

I finally saw the new Velvet Revolver video. Overall, I enjoyed it, but it had this sort of sense of emo corniness in it. Which is a minus. But, there was lots of half naked and drugged up Scott and some softcore porn here and there, it was good. He has the same Ramones shirt as I do! Except that mine's red. Duff, always hot. Matt couldn't have looked any better, love the aviator sunglasses. And Dave Kushner? I always forget about him, along with many other people. Poor guy. And Slash? Well we don't need to say anymore about him. My real opinion on it is that I don't really have one. It was blah. It had its pluses and minuses. Whatever. I'll watch it for the good views. I never really had much respect for that song either, and the press and their shitful reviews just would never shut up about it. It kept reminding me of Staind (EW) and "Superhuman" would've been a better single. I like "Loving the Alien" better as one of the slower songs on their album anyway. But what do I know, I don't know shit about anything.

You faggots got lucky yesterday, I didn't post.



Sunday, August 22
New layout. Oh snap! It's not a sexy musician that makes you want to lick the screen! This is a 100% Authentic Christina Layout. It's made by the highest quality of picture editing, with hours upon hours of hard work, tweaking every single detail so it looks 150% perfecto.

Carrie just sent me Appetite For Destruction over AIM. That's fucking awesome, looks like I'm not going to go broke buying cds anymore. So this weekend I got 3 new albums. I said I'd pay my mom back for the other two, but she hasn't mentioned anything about them at all. Maybe I'll get away with this one. Every time I hear "Mr. Brownstone" I think of brownies. It's a kick ass song, but having the incredible urge to eat a 5 x 5 foot tray full of brownies when you're not allowed to eat brownies is not.




THE RULES!
1 -- Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2 -- I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3 -- You'll update your journal with my five questions, and your five answers.
4 -- You'll include this explanation.
5 -- You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.


Interview from Carrie:

1. how far does your abhorrence for gwar go back?
about half a year ago when i was watching uranium classics. that was the only time i ever cringed while watching a video and was even embarassed just watching it, even if there was no one in the room.

2. what was the first CD or record you ever recieved or bought?
dark side of the moon, my dad's friend gave it to me as a christmas present when i was 9. when i first listened to it i thought it was fall-asleep-drool-on-your-pillow-almost-dying boring. so i gave it to my parents to keep. a few years later, i finally got my head out of the corporate machine's gutter from limp bizkit and finally appreciated it and took it back. i've cherished it ever since.

3. what is your guilty pleasure?
guilty pleasure.......i'd have to say that maroon 5 song "this love." oh man i'm so ashamed of myself confessing to that. or having the greatest urge to get a wedding dress. they're too pretty. i'm such a hopeless, and i mean HOPELESS romantic.

4. which trait or quality do you like best about yourself?
that's pretty hard. i'll say my taste in music, i'm pretty proud of the bands i like and the fact that i've discovered such, not falling into the deep money pit that record companies and tv shoves in ladle-fulls down my throat. along with the cough drop already in it.

5. what is the absolute greatest song you've ever heard?
"cherry pie" by warrant. it's so vulgar and perverted i love it! i'd kill to look like bobbi brown, i don't care if i get hosed down by a bunch of horny men, i'll be hot.




Cinderella cannot write music. But they happen to be on the 25 Greatest Power Ballads list on VH1. This whole classic rock weekend is a ripoff. They said classic rock. They show disco. They said stuff from the '60s, '70s', and '80s. They only show '80s pop videos. They played Whitney Houston for god's sake I did not wake up early to see Whitney Houston wearing red pom poms around her ass and watch that rabid puppy on her head eating her brain away. And they always show Behind the Music: Motley Crue so early in the morning, and I always end up being too tired to watch all of it.



"Aw man, why do I have to fuck the Wonder Bread again?"


A2Z: Guns n Roses. Hilarious. It's the only episode that I actually enjoyed. The other ones I just watched out of comlete, pathetic, my usual, boredom. Watched their Behind the Music for like the 6th time, and Velvet Revolver on Uranium for the 8th time or something. Every time I watch it, I see more and more of how Juliya sucks at interviews and asks the same old questions that every single other magazine asks them too. No wonder Scott never wants to deal with the press.

I am deeply saddened that there were no Izzy interviews on Behind the Music.

Matt's hot too, doesn't anyone ever notice anything?

Nickelback fucking sucks. So does Yellowcard. No one rocks out to the violin. It's as bad as Jethro Tull rocking out to the flute. For some reason this reminds me of Chicago and that horrible, horrible song, "You're the Inspiration." Oh man I had that song stuck in my head all night once, I seriously could not sleep. That song is like, jeez, I can't even come up with a diss for it.

I don't find Jenny McCarthy very funny.



Saturday, August 21
Thanks to Ryan Cabrera, my trip to the mall was ruined. That fucking dipshit amplifier humping fag just had to come perform on the day I go to the mall, which hasn't been in over a month. I did not walk in peace. I did not shop in peace. I DID NOT EAT MY PRETZEL IN PEACE. It's this pathetic tour of his, going to all the Simon malls in the country. I hate Simon malls. They take all the good stores away and put all this teenybopper shit in. Teenyboppers have taken over the mall and now I have no short distance place to shop and buy pretzels. Platypus fuckers.

I saw a lot of assholes from school, and Knolls as well. I saw Dave! Haven't seen him since graduation, and he has grown so hot. He looks like a hot albino Kurt Cobain. Well albino cuz he has platinum blonde hair. I wanted to go say hi, but was afraid that he wouldn't remember me or want to talk to me or anything. But he's the nicest guy. What the fuck was I thinking? Well duh, my mom was with me.

He's the only reason that I now want to go the mall more often. I'm such a whore.

Jeannie was there, she's always is at the mall when me and my mom go. Weird.

The only reason I ever step into Hot Topic is to check out the music t shirts. Well today, it was really goddamn crowded with little kindergoths and Linkin Park fans. I didn't want to be associated with such beings. Because before, I saw this awesome David Bowie shirt, and wanted to see if the price had gotten any lower or if it was even still there. And maybe perhaps another Led Zeppelin shirt. Yes, another one. You can never have enough Zeppelin shirts. Even if they all do have the same Swan Song logo on them.

So I just forgot about stepping into that fiery teenygoth hole and went to FYE. I hate FYE too, overpriced shit. But they have a large and vast horizon of music, music, movies, and more music. I was considering buying Guns n Roses' Use Your Illusion I, but figured that a lot of people had it already, and hopefully they'll be nice kindred spirits and let me borrow their copy. Stone Temple Pilots cds are too expensive. So I just got Thin Lizzy and Tesla.

Thin Lizzy! They're pretty damn decent after all. No movie, cuz I changed my mind. Don't worry, I definitely will get How the West Was Won someday.

God, and before I kept calling it Where the West Was Won. I'm such a chickenshit.

Then went to Borders. It's a pretty cool store, but I like Barnes and Noble better, even if they don't have as much music. The awesome books make up for it. But Borders did have good drinks. I'm starting to like them more than my beloved pretzels.

Today's trip to Asshole Inc. was a sample of what I'd see in The Deep Snore. I'm scared shitless.

I got Shaina's letter today! Funny ass shit. After just coming home and stepping out of the car and getting the mail, seeing her letter, I was so jumpity excited that I almost fell over trying to get my shoes off with one hand and holding the mail in the other. Haha, there was a page big drawing of Ryan Shuck's shlong hahahaha. That girl rocks the fucking socks off the entire L.A. Lakers basketball team.

That will be the only time I will ever say rocks the socks. And mention the L.A. Lakers.

It's not fucking fair. An issue of Classic Rock magazine fucking costs 9 dollars. British people and their overcharging. 9 dollars for a magazine. That's more than 10 times worth my ass. I wanted to rip out the order page to send it in for a subscription, but there were too many people around. Jeez, give me and my schemes some privacy for once.

That was a lot of complaining. That's Christina for you. Enjoy.



Friday, August 20

Which great guitarist are you?

woo hoo =D

Which Robert are you?

yippeeee :)




My ass fucking hurts and I don't know why.

George Harrison is my favorite Beatle, hands fucking down!

Just had to get that out. Ass pain can really get to your head.

It is really sweltering hot today. And I've been listening to Zeppelin non-stop for the past week. It's insane, but insanely good.

I've been debating whether tomorrow I should buy Where The West Was Won or This is Spinal Tap. I really can't decide. What do you folks think? 5 hours of hunky Zeppelin ass or one of the greatest and funniest movies of all time about my favorite genre of music? Decisions, decisions.

So, today was nothing special again. My eyes are tired at looking for Robert Plant pictures, but it's all good. Been eating nothing but soup all day, cuz there's nothing else. Tried to find the extras in the 21 Grams dvd but there are no fucking extras goddammit. The Blockbuster case said there's a making-of featurette and there is no fucking making-of featurette. Then I had had enough of trying to find some extra footage of Sean Penn and watched Celebrity Poker Showdown. Michael fucking Ian Black is awesome.

How is that almost every single piece of furniture in my room is dented? Let's list the damages.

Desk:
1. launching hot wheels cars molded the edges
2. pieces scraped off, from when trying to open an ink cartridge to see what it looked like inside with a pair of scissors
3. bottom hide your feet wall demented, i have no idea who kicked it
4. back cardboard of shelf on desk starting to rip off

Brand New Dresser:
1. several dents from a falling metal vase

Bed Post:
1. scratches and dents, from who knows where

Chair:
1. one of the legs are bent
2. screws keep getting loose

Remote Control:
1. sometimes it doesn't work, so you have to hit it. even if the tv is only a few months old

Closet Door:
1. one sliding door is crooked

Board on Desk Holding Up Computer:
1. chips
2. paint peeling off

Table Behind Desk:
1. looks like it's gonna die

Glass Shelves:
1. i don't ever touch them!








Thursday, August 19
Bored, and is again waiting for That '70s Show. It's a ritual that I must do every night. Or else I go insane. Hence the next day will be of nothing but turmoil. Because I didn't watch That '70s Show the preceding night.

13 days left. That's not even 2 fucking weeks. Fortunately for my livejournal friends, my annoying entries full of drone about nothing but Led Zeppelin and Auntie Anne's pretzels won't be filling up your friends pages any longer. But, I know you will greatly miss my teachings on the horrors of Gwar and Michael Bolton's hair. I was thinking of working on a few more projects before The Deep Snore, like making some tribute websites to who else - my music obsessions. Possibly even one about myself, because I'm that bored. No, that one won't be a tribue to myself.

For some reason on this year's summer vacation ending, I get this weird feeling that some huge thing is coming to an end and I have to finish everything, in wait for a whole new life ahead of me. Starting on a new slate, building my reputation as an asshole. It's sort of a feeling of accomplishment, but on the flipside, I haven't accomplished anything.

Hahaha I used the word "flipside."

I think if I be good for a while, I'll be allowed to see Knife the Glitter again.

Can someone do me a goddamn tiny favor and go to classicrockmagazine.com, click on the link to subscribe, type in the goddamn offer code, and just check and see how much a subscription costs???

I tried a million times, but the fucking code "could not be recognized."

Upon reading the schedule for this weekend's upcoming Classic Rock Weekend on VH1, there's not going to be anything super special. But it's still worth watching. They'll mostly just be playing Behind the Music: AC/DC and A2Z: Guns n Roses most of the time. Both of which I still have to see though. No Zeppelin specials. No Van Halen specials. I'm heartbroken.

At home I've been eating pretty much nothing but carbs. The risk of looking like Ricki Lake is inevitable. I need to have more motion in my life. I'm like Jabba the Hut, except that I am 600 pounds less and don't have a penis. If he really does have one, that is. I mean, he had Princess Leah chained half naked to him as a sex slave, of course he had one, right?

I could really go for some nachos right now.




Some people nowadays say that Lenny Kravitz sucks and he's too into the poppyness that we call "mainstream." Well fuck you, he's not. In my opinion, he's pretty damn good. Especially back in the old days before the 5 album came out. He said in an interview that in his latest album he was trying to catch the rock n roll essence of his first album. And I think he accomplished it well. I love the guitar player with the MC5 afro in the video.

CLASSIC ROCK WEEKEND ON VH1 COMING UP. I AM SO EXCITED. AND YOU SHOULD BE TOO. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE VH1 CLASSIC.




the proceeding crap is from this morning.

I've been going to bed at 3 or 4 in the morning this past week or two. Why? I don't know. God, I want Saturday to come so I could go to the mall and get a pretzel at Auntie Anne's. I'm looking forward to that one moment all week. Yes, I am that pathetic.

But when you eat one for yourself, you wouldn't think so lowly of me.

Plans for the next few weeks: Nothing. And wait for my impending doom in socialization to come. That's right, school. Don't ever make me type those 6 letters again.

It's scary listening to The Doors at night. Jim has a beautiful and yet eerie voice, and when you're alone in the dark at night while everyone else is asleep dreaming of flying hippos and pink clouds and cats on LSD, he really does sound freaky.

That just makes The Doors even better.

No, I am not going to listen to "The End" because it will probably scare the shit out of me.

Just kidding, but if I were watching the end of Apocalypse Now when that song is the soundtrack for that scene with the commies butchering the water buffalo, then that would be odd.

There's seriously nothing to talk about, my life is as exciting as Dave Matthews Band albums. Oh yes it's quite a roller coaster of a ride - taking sudden turns and the action never ends.

I've always admired Robby Krieger, because he's a cool dude.

Oh wait! There is something to talk about. Tom walked by past my house today, and looked over. I haven't hung out with him in months. Who gives a fuck if he's like 3 years younger than me, that kid's cool. He came to the door with Mauricio and Sean in like March or something, but noooooo, my mom said I had to do homework or some bullshit. Yeah right, like I'd ever put homework before friends, ha. But yeah, she made them go away. But first Sean and Mauricio beat each other up on the driveway for about 20 minutes and then they left.

Dammit, there's no one to talk to online right now.

i thought i'd share a few led zeppelin pics with you.




I am going to bed now.



Wednesday, August 18
Soon my dad's gonna make me go to bed. Never. I don't want to turn the computer off and turning off Robert Plant's voice and Jimmy's guitar and Jonesy's bass and Bonzo's drums off. NEVER. What's with me these days? I simply just cannot stop listening to them. They're too good. Screw The Beatles. They're not the greatest band of all time. Led Zeppelin is. Sometimes when I'm listening to them on this kick ass new speaker system I just have that incredible crack-induced energy to get out there and, who knows. Smash some windows, throw bricks at cars, shoot stray cats, I just feel crazy. And I'm locked up in this palace I call my house.

I'm beginning to regret that I didn't buy that Jimmy Page shirt. Sheesh.

Squeeze my lemon 'til the juice runs down my leg
Squeeze it so hard, I'll fall right out of bed

Hahaha greatest lyrics ever. Period.




I've started listening to my few downloaded songs of The Yardbirds after a long time of about....months. I never realized they were that really fucking awesome. Ah yes, this '60s binge just won't end.

Plus, I've also at last and finally finished reading Break on Through: The Life and Death of Jim Morrison. Overall, it was very entertaining and I learned a whole shitload about Jim and of course the other Doors as well. The beginning was a total bore, as with pretty much every goddamn book I've read, but it later got very worthy of wasting my time with. What sort of pissed me off was, it being a library book, some asshole ripped some pictures and a page out of the fucking book. No no no no no, I'm the only one who ever does that so they should've just fucked the hell off.

You can't imagine what beautiful pictures of Slash and Jimmy Page I got from doing that in Guitar Player magazines from the school library. That's probably the only thing that goddamn building is useful for, and buying chocolate bars.

Right after I finished reading the last few pages I immediately started on Hart's War. Yes, it was a movie, I haven't watched it yet, Bruce Willis is cool, and this book was probably what inspired the movie. Honolulu Airport had this little book stand, where it was a great steal as for being on sale from $26 to a mere $7.

Wow, this post is boring me.

My mom bought cake mix, and I can't seem to find the jar of icing anywhere in the kitchen. What the fuck is a cake without icing? Did she seriously not buy icing on purpose? Then how the fuck and I supposed to enjoy it? Icing's the fucking point of eating cake. I am very disappointed in her.

Or maybe she knows that I like to eat icing right out of the jar and hid it. I did that in middle school, and everyone was like, "Ewwwwwww, you actually eat it like that?" Fuck you, it tastes good. I'm not conformist and use icing only as use of cake decoration, hiding the spongy little holes on your freshly baked delectable. Then why do you think the container comes in such a perfect size for holding in the palm of your hand and dipping an eating utensil inside?

There's a Family Guy marathon later. That's cool.

I've yet to see Guns n Roses A2Z. I hope it'll be good, from what I've read in people's journals.

Okay that's it, I'm gonna go eat croissants.



Tuesday, August 17
I'm waiting for That '70s Show to be on. Yes, I'm going to have watched 4 episodes in one day. Got a fucking problem? Thought so.

I am extremely disappointed that I missed The Hives on David Letterman last night. Extremely disappointed.

Again I ask, does anyone know how much it costs to subscribe to Classic Rock Magazine?

They are going to force me to take driving lessons this year. Which scares me very much, considering I can't either drive a bumper car correctly, nor a car in a video game not looking like I'm driving under the influence. Beware kids, I'll be out on the road this year. And I will not be sorry if I run over your grandmother because the cranky bitch probably deserved it for blocking traffic anyway.

Over the course of this summer I have become obsessed with That '70s Show. It is the only time that I will ever get out of my schedule of eating, sitting, and showering to do something else other than eating, sitting, and showering.

I've started watching Celebrity Poker Showdown, because Michael Ian Black's my hero and Danny Masterson was on it. At first I couldn't stand that show thinking it was boring shit that could only be unboring if you were playing it yourself. But who was I to judge it if I only watched 20 seconds of it. Now I find it rather fascinating and pretty funny, when the celebrities start to bitch at each other or pull out their lucky charms, like Michael Ian Black's autographed photo of David Copperfield.

Oddly enough, I don't know a single a person who knows how to play poker besides myself. People are such pussies.

I've just gotten the most uncontrollable urge to go out and buy more jeans.





That was an art homework assignment turned masterpiece.




Shaina logged off supposedly thinking that someone unplugged my internet. Turns out my computer fucked up like the stupid fuck it is and I had to restart. No one to talk to. Boo hoo.

School. I've never had such a horrible fear for it. Seriously. I don't want to talk. I don't want to socialize. I don't want to walk. I don't want to write. I don't want to eat their horse shit that they call food. To see friends would be just fine, but I can't see them all the time. Boo hoo.

I want to go to concerts and have a good time. I want fat sucked out of my overly bloated asian face. I want to be 6 feet tall to become a model and get easy money. That's only...6 inches away. Wait, Kate Moss is 5'7". Hey maybe I could just go by growing one more inch.

Could you believe that I was considering making a myspace? Kill me now, Gwar. Kill me now. Just drag me to one of your concerts.

Leah imed me today. She should fuck off.

My room is very bland. There are absolutely no posters. And I have absolutely no money.

I've been thinking about being homeschooled. Students at Morris Hills and Morris Knolls could kiss my ass and enjoy it for fuck's sake. But then again, I don't want a teacher such as my mom. She doesn't have time either. So fuck that idea.

I think this year I'm going to sleep in lunches and every opportunity that they give us as freetime. I could care less about the fuckers around me. Time would go by faster, for me to pursue my future of, well, nothing.

But it'll be more interesting than what's happening now.

Plus, sleeping's good for your skin. That's a positive for my mom. Considering she's obsessed with ridding my god awful skin of acne.

A good career would be a groupie. Hahahaha I was thinking of becoming one, that would be fun, but no money would come out of it. Maybe I'll just put that as a hobby.

The sad part is, there aren't many good bands today. Boo hoo.

Upon almost finishing this Jim Morrison biography, I've decided to get into a lot more reading. I'll even subscribe to magazines, for when I'm especially bored in school. Does anyone know how much it costs to subscribe to Classic Rock Magazine?

On the other side, I will have to get good grades, so I can get the fuck out of here. Oh don't worry kids, I'll smack those tests with my super asian brain.

In fucking hell.

As you can see, I am very negative right now, because late at night like this I tend to reflect on a lot of things more deeply. You start to think a lot when you have as much free time as I do, and when you're locked in the house for as long as I have. Incessant rambling helps sooth the soul. Or at least it should.

My mom said we're going shopping on Saturday. Woo hoo. Not boo hoo.

Rented 21 Grams and Big Fish on Sunday. Watched 21 Grams yesterday. Crazy movie. I loved it. Sean Penn is fucking hot I don't care what you fucking think.

I couldn't stop laughing at this.


Jimmy says: "ADLKFJAISFJDASDJFJGIADFJKDEUH!"



Monday, August 16
I've currently been listening to 40 Licks, which I bought quite a while ago and never listened the entire thing in one sitting. Well now I am. They are fucking good.

Anyway, onto the reason of this entry. Just read the link below.

click here to see jim morrison's ass.



Sunday, August 15
On the way to New York City, thy Nissan Maxima automobile passed this here Abercrombie and Fitch billboard. Thy male model on it beared absolutely no clothing to ye naked eye whatsover. It made ye question, "How will ye advertise thy clothing if ye have none clothing?" So is ye advertising for thy teenagers to bear no clothing? How proposterous!

Okay, enough with the bullshit talk. I had to use bullshit talk to describe bullshit clothing. If you didn't catch my drift, then you're a dumb chickenshit.

The ride there, before the pointless billboard, my mom didn't like the Michael Buble (no, it's not prounounced bubble, it's "boo-blay," know your broken french) that I picked out for her and my dad's trying to find good wedding music for the dad's wedding videography business. Well she wouldn't fucking like old men and the king of all pretty songs, Frank Sinatra, I decided to trick her into buying a young guy who sounded like him. Still didn't win her red blood pumper that she calls a heart. So, she puts in her new Cher cd. I think Cher sucks and should be banned from Christina's close personal space of a 5-mile radius. Putting on headphones and listening The Doors, it was extremely hard trying to listen to Jim Morrison's sexalicious creamy voice screaming "BREAK ON THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE!" and trying to imagine this gorgeous-spank-his-ass dude motioning like a divine god while hearing "If I could turn back time, *turkey gobble gobble*" coming from Bose System speakers in every direction of our midsize vehicle.

This time it took a while to get my medicine, because the store was crowded. Even worse, it was warm and muggy, one of my greatest fears. I deathly fear humidity because again I say, I am a crazed obsessive compulsive and humidity gives you a disgusting sweaty-hot-just-had-sex feeling but without the sex and the awesome feeling that you just had sex.

It was then decided that we go dine (but not dash) at a restaurant all the way down in one of the Plainfields. Extra long ride, but oh well. Food was mediocre. What a waste of time, but that's my specialty.

The ride back home, the sibling discovered her skin peeling from the sunburn in Pineapple Land Hawaii. Since some windows were open, as she was scratching the skinflakes off, they blew in the way of the wind towards me and it was quite disturbing. No one wants someone else's sunburned skin flakes stuck in their hair. At first I thought, "Are there flower trees around here or something? What's with the tiny pedals? Or snow? What the fuck?" Yeah, snow from Mt. Kelly Shouldn't Wear Sleeveless Shirts.



Saturday, August 14
I found this in someone's journal, they found it extremely hilarious. I find it very hot and awkward, thinking if he spiked it or is running away from his wife or something. He doesn't look very happy in my opinion.




We went to Target today, the new one that just opened about a week ago by the mall. It was a huge place, with these funky looking 3 1/2 foot tall red cement balls out side of the building. That didn't sound right. But anyway, they had these awesome jeans there but I knew my mom wouldn't let me get them cuz she thinks I have enough already. Yeah right, you can never have enough jeans. If you listen to enough Zeppelin you just fucking can't have enough low riser flares. (Men, take that as advice for getting some ass.) Everything else looked kind of cheap and being obsessive compulsive, they looked cheap to me because everything was arranged on the racks pretty sloppily. I also hate that brand of clothing called Cherokee. The indian tribe kicks ass but man do they suck at making clothes. My mom was thinking of buying one their shirts. How could she, they're cut so badly. Even when it's still on the rack it looks like it's going to rip into pieces and fall off of the hanger for some kid to come along and wipe his nose on.

Then we went grocery shopping at this chinese supermarket. Damn are those places crappy. The "authentic" little delies they have in there taste, let's say, as scrumptious as MacDonald's yummy "fresh, just picked from the farm 5 weeks ago" salads. When my mom wanted to get this 2 x 3 x 1 box of instant noodles that was on a really high shelf, I had to stretch my arms and get it, but there were these 2 others that were equally heavy and equally sized that were on top of it that I couldn't reach. She told me to pull out the one on the bottom while she'd catch the 2 on top so they won't fall and smash my head into what would look like a very chunky fruit punch flavored slushie. Turns out, she only caught one box and the other went corner-first into my eye.

I started to see Super Mario stars out of that eye and it looked all cool and psychedelic LSD dreamy. But the price I had to pay was uncomfortable pain in the ass heroin needle in the eye pain. I couldn't help but think of Hyde beating up Kelso and for some reason always ends up hurting his right eye. Instead of getting punched in the eye, I got a box full of instant noodles fallen on it. It hurt almost enough to cause a black eye. Oh man, maybe it could be an excuse for my mom to let me wear makeup then.

Luckily, the partially eaten sandwich that I left in our shopping cart was still there. Eating that helped my emotional torment go away.

"Odyssey" is a good song by Orgy. Shaina sent me two of their albums and they are hella good.



Friday, August 13
edit. My bad, it's The Best of the Doors!

Holy shit Shaina just sent me the entire Doors Legacy album so excited =D =D =D =D =D

Never before have I been exposed to such beautiful Doors music in addition to almost finishing this biography on Jim oh man this is fucking awesome now only if someone would send me his poetry books or something I'd be ecstatic.






Haha, Dean looks kinda funny in the background.



Thursday, August 12
Bored and was listening to Velvet Revolver again, damn they're good. There's been so much Scott Weiland around it's crazy. But good.

What pissed me off was the episode of Uranium and Juliya said they weren't as heavy as the bands that were usually on the show. In other and more sensible words she should've meant that they were better than the bands that were usually on the show. Everyone's laughing behind her back, bands, viewers, and all. Red Forman should put a commie boot up her ass.

Will someone get this girl a life this is her 3rd entry today!

My dad's been perturbing me lately he keeps reminding me to do things when I will and on time also. My mom already tells me these things before she leaves for work, how could I not hear when her voice is like a bullhorn? I could tell he's not happy with me, but I am doing my responsibilities. Or at least I think so.

The house is often dead quiet without my mom around, simply because there's nothing to talk about. He's a great pal when you're a kid, but now he still talks about and talks like those little childish things that I've grown out of already. I'm bored by it. Added to that, he sleeps half the time he's at home.

I never have anyone to talk to, that's probably why I type here so much. Come to think of it, this entry might be more than what I've spoken all day. That is very depressing. This is probably more than I ever say in school too, the kids there could go lick John Kerry's ass and suck it for all I care.

Well, most of them.

I've always wanted the silver aviator sunglasses, but the fucking mall only had the gold ones, and I was impatient so I bought them anyway. Almost a 100 dollars, bitch. I bought them like a year ago and I could never have pulled them off with that old beatle/jet/ramone/whatever haircut I had at that time.

Fuse is getting even worse. I can't watch it anymore it's like my room, getting more and more polluted by the hour.




I've been joining quite a few communities lately. Probably because I have so much fucking time on my hands that I've probably checked for comments at least 50 times today already. And that I've just been in the mood to find more people who have stuff in common with me.

I found myself listening to Led Zeppelin last night well into the wee hours of the morning again before going to sleep. It felt really goddamn good. I still couldn't sleep though, so I spent until 3 or so in the morning still trying to finish this Morrison biography. It's really good, but really long also.

People should give me money, because I own an extremely mediocre cd collection. Once my cd player stops working, I'll have to rely on my cassette player and buy cassettes from then on.

I own a maximum of 15 actual full length albums.

That's very sad.

Ever since I got back from Hawaii I've been living like a bum. I walk at .0000009 mph around this rather average sized house with one level and a basement that I rarely step foot into anymore. I sleep 13 or more hours a day. I go to bed at 3 in the morning. I spend about 5 hours on the computer every day. I despise taking showers, but I do anyway for your and the other people who share this house me's nasal sake. There's this strange smell under my desk and I have no idea what it is. The only time I eagerly get out of my schedule to do anything is to watch That '70s Show.

I bit a moldy piece of bread today. It tasted bad.



Wednesday, August 11
The huge zephead I am, the truth is that I don't own a single album. And the box set that I seldom talk about? My metalshop teacher lent me his to borrow so of course I copied it. Without my folks' financial aid I'd be a dead hobo crushed by a car in the middle of the street just waiting for the sanitary dudes to come and scrape my god awful smelly corpse off the concrete with a spatula. Sure, you've come over my house and seen our fancy furniture. My parents pay for everything, and since they hate this shit they call my music they vowed to never pay a single thing that has to do with it. No, I don't beg that's for pussies even though I am one. I only have about 70 dollars left buried somewhere in my closet to last me til Christmas, where I probably won't receive any more that 30 dollars max. The gifts get less and less every year. Fuckers. And that 30 I get from Christmas is all that will have to last til my birthday in July. That's right, I only get paid mediocre twice a year.

What's an impoverished musichead going to do? Nothing. That's my pathetic solution. Well, next to picking up lose sticky change on the floor of MacDonald's restuarants.

Shaina, you gotta be online sometime so I could send you your livejournal cut shit thing via AIM.




I got this hot new shirt. And went on a photo session for your perverted viewing pleasure.

i have a nasty morrison ego.



Tuesday, August 10
For the first time ever while looking at it I finally snapped and actually started laughing at my livejournal icon. Hahaha his nostrils are flaring, looks like he wants a snort of coke so bad XD






Seriously, is it a guy, or a girl, that's singing in Coheed and Cambria? Seriously, do people really call that music? I call it stuff that came out of my ass this morning.

I can't turn on MTV or Fuse without seeing shit. I'd have to wait at least a half hour just to see one quality video. Even more distressing, they're starting to show less and less of The Darkness. They obviously don't believe in a thing called love. You know what else is ironic? Fuse always had this thing against MTV (for example that commercial parodizing Nick and Jessica or the old man would die or something if there were no music videos), and they end up showing crap like Electile Dysfunction. Politics is something else that could could come out of my ass in the morning.

I've been on a '60s binge for some reason. Probaby because this Jim Morrison biography which a fee of 5 dollars had to be paid from being overdue for 3 months and having to be renewed in order to finish reading is finally getting good. Not that he's an uninteresting person, he's the exact opposite of that. It's that biographies just don't have the depth and juicy stuff that biographers and the press never know, much less write about. Autobiographies, now that's the good stuff.

That's bullshit my mom just yelled at me before leaving for work about how I never clean the shower without using it. She just had to cram another scream at me before leaving, sheesh.

Hyde was wearing a hot Zeppelin shirt last night on That '70s Show. I want that. Not to mention him with it.



Monday, August 9
Went looking for current Trent pics I promised for Tara. This is from 2003:


Not bad, eh?



That's from the 2004 Grammys. He still looks pretty great. I'm just scared he might pull an Axl. Shaina says he looks a bit like Donald Trump. Oh man.




Man does Ziggy have a voice. That's right, put on your red shoes and dance the blues.

Let's list the problems of my cd player:

1. the metallic paint used to shine
2. it makes a wonderful rattle
3. the foam things on the speakers are turning into dull glitter
4. doesn't play more than 14 tracks, before it wouldn't play more than 10
5. starts at track #6 every single time
6. it's missing one of the hinges for the lid
7. hence when you open it, it's only attached to the cd player by the single corner hinge
8. super esp2 anti-skip doesn't work anymore
9. almost half the lid is cracked and will eventually disconnect itself from the rest of the product
10. not to mention cracks and scratches everywhere
11. the tiny monitor is cracked also
12. speakers start to burn out every once in a while, making the most lovely static ever to be heard next to steven seagal

There will most likely be more to be listed in the near future. If any of you ever feel the least bit sympathy for me, I would give you oral pleasure if you got me this:






"The Final Countdown" - Europe

MAN THAT SONG SUCKS I CAN'T STAND IT.

I should never watch 50 Most Awesomely Bad Songs ever again. It is proven fact that a geographically named band can suck my nonexistant cock, and suck it well.

I don't want to return my Jim Morrison book to the library. It's no fair.

What the fuck happened on That '70's Show on Wednesday???

School can suck my nonexistant cock too. And along with all the people there that might as well marry a Dashboard cd. True, I did overall enjoy freshman year but I had also discovered people that I never want to interfere with again and wish I could send a nazi to go rape them. Let's face it, a college degree is only proof that you have brains so you have fucking proof to get a fucking good job. I would only go to college (and the rest of high school) for the lectures and not do any of the shitwork because I couldn't give a fuck. Seriously, some lectures are really intriguing and I'm willing to listen. There is a lot to learn out there, but there has to be some other way prove your knowledge besides a piece of toilet paper with your name in english lettering on it.

The fear of getting a crappy lunch block and classes with crappy people bothers me like wedgies bother a first time metal thong wearer. If everything does turn out bad enough, I'd probably go to guidance and get my whole schedule switched.

It is 1:39 in the morning and I want some nice soothing cheesecake. Strawberry cheesecake preferably.

I heard there's a new season of Queer Eye For the Straight Guy. I'm excited. Carson and I must get together and shop our socks off. No wait it's a trend to not wear socks. Shop our virginities off. Or at least mine.

The new Hives album is funkalicious masturbate-a-licious. I'm totally into them again. Shame on me for thinking they lost their touch, what a dumb shit. I wanted to read this article spread about them in Spin magazine, but I couldn't afford its 4 dollars worth and was already in the small newsstand for long enough, so I had to leave. My heart aches just thinking about it.



Sunday, August 8
I will never change the layout again. Except for a few kinks that need to be fixed, it's totally sexalicious lick-the-screen-a-licious. Shaina, I owe you Ryan Shuck.

I've always preferred Blogger over Livejournal. Simply because it looks cooler, you have more freedom, and well everything about Blogger is better than Livejournal. The reason I go on Livejournal more often is that no one read this and in addition there's no friends thing. Fuck you Livejournal you SUCK. What's even worse is Xanga. Don't even get me started.

What pisses me off is when people have parties without letting me know. Which means they aren't inviting me. I will not state their name, because it would cause an entire horde of shitfucks to hate me. Added to the Dashboard Confessional and Avril Lavigne fans who already want to send a mexican to rape me and have me hanged on the stage of a Gwar concert.

You know who you are, and if you're ever reading this, Christina is not happy with you.

I do not have an alcohol problem.

Bad Haircut show changed to the 20th! I need help with a good plan to get there. Most of mine have worked and then failed after use of a few times. Grounded is the language of the devil.

Being tan is ugly. Uglier than what I already am. Now it's probably going to stay that way for at least 2 more years. Man, sometimes I really wish I were white. White as in white trash.

I'm being forced to return my library book overdue of 3 months to the library tomorrow. Only when just 200 more pages must be read.

Anyone see That '70s Show on Wednesday? I only saw half. I must know what happens. Who gives a fuck if it's old. Just like who gives a fuck about John Kerry and John Edwards because we all know they've fucked behind that podium. Ew, the sounds of sandpaper on sandpaper are just so soothing.



Saturday, August 7

You're known for starting trouble. But you play it cool. Besides, no one can resist your sharp eyes and quick wit. *They* eat from the palm of your hand. Though you have weaknesses, which may have deadly consequences, you, are resurrected, as if the gods themselves breathed immortality into you. Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.

An Elvis man, you like you women dangerous and your steaks bloody. You often get wrapped up in landscapes and fail to realize the danger you put yourself into. Don't get cocky, and don't get caught. It might be good to lay off the drugs every once in a while. Just a suggestion. Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.

Haha he shot Marvin in the face. Gets me every single time. And he died right after taking a shit that's great.




If I were to be a homeless hippie, I'd be a homeless hippie in Hawaii. I'd go everywhere fungusfoot and grow my hair as long as Cher's but stink like Nikki Sixx after that not showering dare with Tommy Lee but 10 times as long. I'd sleep on the beach and not even have to beg for food - there are fruit trees all around. Plus, you don't need to wear much clothes either.

The people there are so fucking nice. Not to mention all the hot sexalicious men that I'd have to tap every single one of them. Hawaiians are awesome I'm sad they didn't really invent Hawaiian Punch and that little dreaded hair dude on a surfboard. I mean, every goddamn person was friendly and didn't step over you every time you tripped on your feet for no apparent reason.

There was an exception though. All I have to say is: Thousands, thousands, thousands, of Japanese people. (Brittany, Hawaii is your paradise.) What bothered me was that they are some of the most arrogant, conceited, selfish, unfriendly people I have ever met. And just those Japanese tourists alone make up more than half of the island of Oahu's population. I saw more pale-as-ass Japanese than I did toasted-as-crusty-rye-bread Hawaiians in the entire vacation alone. They think they're going to get Hawaii even after surrendering like Barbie Doll pussies in Pearl Harbor? Yeah right, Michael Bolton groupies have a bigger chance in doing so.

A bird shit on my dad. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen since looking at a picture of Mickey Rooney.

I'll get to more details when I feel like it. But now I feel like boring you some more than I already would have.

We went shopping, and there was this store called Green Dreams. More like Goldmine Heaven of Heaven Dreams. There were aisles and aisles and aisles and racks and racks and racks of rare music t shirts. Quality music t shirts. You should've seen my eyes, they twinkled like the stars. (wow, that was so emo-y corny.) Ok, they twinkled more like a hobo's eyes when he's just seen a picture of a Big Mac on the window at MacDonald's, thinking it's God and that it's edible. It was shopping paradise. I even sweat while looking through the many aisles of fashion gold and diamonds. There was a Kurt Cobain shirt with him showing you the magic finger and saying FUCK YOU. I wish I could've gotten it for Shaina, in exchange for that Zeppelin shirt goddammit!

I saw a Jimmy Page shirt. I Jimmy Page shirt. A JIMMY PAGE SHIRT. But it was size XL and black and my mom would not have paid for it.

Yeah I am indeed as tan as let's say......Cheech and Chong? Yeah, that tan. Tan is bad. It hurts and I'm starting to peel. If the wind blew, all my skin flakes would look like volcanic ash blowing everywhere in your fucking faces with winds going 50 mph.




Shaina, what happened to my sexalicious layout?

"It often happens that I wake up at night and begin to think about a serious problem and decide I must tell the Pope about it. Then I wake up completely and remember that I am the Pope."

- Pope John XXIII



My favorite thing to do during my spare time is skinning my neighbors' pet pomeranians and trading their fur to crack dealers in Newark.




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Mike Patton Hates Wolfmother
Minazo the Seal
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