Friday, March 11
It seems like every time I feel like writing a post, and when I get to this page to write the entry, I suddenly lose interest. Which equals in a crappy entry. But I'll be smart this time, and end the shitty entry before it fucking kills you. Or maybe I'll just go on. Paradox right there. Yeah, the vocabulary quizzes in english class really help.
After school my mom drove me to the library, and picked up quite a few books. They really fucking weighed a lot. And do you know why I got so many books? Because I had just discovered the rock n' roll section of the library that I've overlooked for so many years. Among my stack of covered papers was David Lee Roth's autobiography,
Crazy From the Heat. I also got a book by Nietzche just out of pure curiosity, and why Jim Morrison really loved him so much; a book on deadly cults, and this huge ass Rolling Stones (what Stones book isn't huge as an elephant ass?) called
The Rolling Stones: Life on the Road, or something like that. It's huge, fucking dude-from-Type-O-Negative-penis-size kind of huge. It's full of pictures and a fairly small amount of words, which is just my type of book.
I really hate B days. The people in my classes on those days make me feel like shit. They don't directly do shit to me or anything like that, but they're just full of shit anyway. My friend told me about something serious in one of my classes regarding racism, and how it was directed towards their background. I promised that I wouldn't tell anyone, so I won't elaborate on it. It really hit me to see my friend, or any friend at all, walk around with such fear or pain. That's not fucking cool. I'm really surprised that I haven't been hit with any racist blows, being that I'm a fucking asian, and asians fucking stand out, bitch. Well if anyone dares to fucking be a fucking Hitler-ho to me then you'll fucking get a rock up your ass so fucking high up there that you won't be able to shit for four months nor be able to produce kids.
On Sunday the folks are taking me shopping at Bridgewater Commons. Hopefully I will get new shoes, or at least something nice. The last few shopping trips to anywhere I never got anything.
Overall, this week has been pretty bad. I realized that I get weepy too easily. Maybe it's just a phase, or maybe I really am a puss and should take all my Axl Rose and Vince Neil jokes back. No, I don't think the monthly french revolution is coming anytime soon either. It could be, because that would explain why I've been so fucking moody, sappy, and emotional. I talked to Ferris today, and I guess I gained another good friend also. It was about people turning their backs on us and stuff, no shoe thieving. It was Molly's turn.
I'm fucking terrified if my folks get a hold of my midquarter grades in the mail before I do. They're the same numbers as how old young slutty vagina Hollywood is. Which means I can't slack off and sleep fucking all day tomorrow and keep an eye out, and constantly keep a vigil over the window for my dear mailman with a bushy mustache.
Is it a new trend to wear ripped jeans? I know I've complained about it before, but as more and more days go by, I keep seeing more and more expensivly bought pre-ripped jeans on people's legs. It's sickening, and most, more like all, can't fucking pair them with the right clothes. Come on, ripped jeans and a flowery top? Go fuck your dad. It's also just a bit tad cold to be wearing such airy pants too. Have some fucking common sense for once.
I miss my leather jacket dearly too. Once it gets to be a nice, almost warm day, I get to wear it and not fucking freeze my ass off in the morning. And then as school starts to end, it fucking rains. And rains. And rains. And rains. And if you aren't a stupid Gwar-loving dumbfuck, you would know that leather and water don't go together, especially acid water. Oh man, Acid Water is such a cool name for a band. Same thing with Psycho Fags. That's fucking awesome. Back to my jacket. I wish more guys would wear them too. Some do wear them, but a lot of them can't fucking find the right one. I hate those huge ones that look like fucking garbage cans with plastic bag sleeves stapled onto the sides. For now, I can only name one guy would could pull a leather jacket off, and the right leather jacket. God, he is hot indeed.
Oh wait, I think there's a freshman dude too who has a hot leather jacket. But he's a fucking, as Eric likes to call them, "kindergoth." No thank you. No Slipknot fans for me, never. If you are, just fuck off. Go to Mongolia and herd some llamas or something. Or whatever country. I don't know, just go the fuck away.
In history we're starting the Industrial Revolution. And it finally answered my question on why people used to be so racist against the irish. I could never figure out why, they're the coolest bunch of human beings and not to mention that they're pretty fucking hot. Colin Farrell! Yeah, shut the fuck up. He's my only current Hollywood figure that I actually care the least bit about. The rest can go suck a goat clit. But no, actually he's just an example that I always use when I talk about irish people. And Mr. Potatohead, but he's not very sexy. I wonder why there's a Mrs. Potatohead, if Mr. Potatohead ain't very good looking. But you know, in the end, it's personality that counts. Can't remember how Mr. Potatohead's personality is though.
I need to stop talking about guys and actually start to go hunt them down. But first I have to eat dinner.
