Friday, February 17
I just bought a $10 used copy of Soundgarden's
Superuknown and it is fucking amazing, man. The case is more scratched up than Paris Hilton's pussy and the booklet's pages for some reason happen to be glued together so that there is no hope of ever seeing the inside contents, but the disc itself works just fine. 1 b3 gh3tt0, y0. Buying new CDs is just not my fucking thing, because they cost more than a fat hooker with fungus growing in between her rolls and a forest in between her legs. Unless I really, really want the particular CD, then yes, I will shell out the extra ten (or most likely more) dollars. Couldn't get
Badmotorfinger because there weren't any used copies and it costs around $14 or $16. Yes, I'm fucking cheap, I know. All asians are.
What was totally disappointing at FYE was that even if the Nuge has two shelves of his own material, not a single copy of my long-cherished
Double Live Gonzo! Jesus fucking Christ, I've wanted that goddamn live album forever.
There was a half day of school and my mom wanted to go shopping at the mall right when I got home. Pleasant surprise, and got some pleasant things to go along with it. It was the perfect time to go to the mall because it was 1:00 in the afternoon, many hours before the entire Hot Topic shopper population within a 10-mile radius comes to the mall and loiters their pants with the many ropes that a small dog could get caught and die in. No wonder they fucking smell. I felt like laughing out loud like a total asshole when I walked by the store, because it's closed and there's a giant temporary gray wall built around it for construction.
My mother wanted to go to Claire's to buy hair clips because all winter long she'd been going fucking nuts about all of hers breaking. The second that I walked into that store, I knew that I was going to eventually break down and shrivel up into a 4-foot-long dried pepper. Helping her pick out clips was fine for about fifteen minutes and my hair starting to be of the static/sticky variety from changes in temperature, I started to panic somewhere inside. I couldn't take the excessive use of flamboyant colors and feathers and sequins throughout the store - And holy fucking shit, the store is so fucking small so everything is bunched together so when you look around it looks like a giant clump of that movie with the Agent Smith guy from
The Matrix dresses as a chick and does Vegas shows or something. I forgot what the movie was called. Or
To Wong Foo. It's like you're going dizzy in a room filled with a dozen Wesley Snipes' in drag. Each Wesley Snipe actually being a spinning stand of earrings or bracelets or fuzzy pre-teen menstrual-training handbags.
And then to a skater/snowboarder/whatever-the-fuck store called Zumiez. I fucking know I don't skate but their clothes are really damn decent. Purchased a $13 white t-shirt that had a chef on it with a 1st place medal on his apron, the title of the shirt saying, "Humboldt County Fair" and the chef, in a word bubble, saying, "There's magic in those brownies!" Ha. Ha. Ha.
Then the creme de la creme. One of my biggest fucking guilty pleasures is constantly looking for any item of clothing or accessory that has the word "aviator" in it. That's right, fucking more aviator sunglasses, man. I can't afford a leather aviator jacket, because I do not have the gung-ho grandfather whose beard has bald patches from having bomb shrapnels or flak spat at his face forty years ago and sits in a wheelchair because he's missing his left leg and constantly complains about how the stump has been itching for the thirty years. This time a silver-rimmed pair with rose-tinted lens for a measly ten bucks. And yes, I would probably come back someday and buy another pair that is silver-rimmed with super-shiny silver lens; The kind that cops wear.
While on line waiting to pay for the used Soundgarden CD, there was a girl that I'd seen in school asking the cashier about the day before when she bought the hilarious
Monster Ballads compilation album and she didn't know that it had two parts so she wanted to find the second one. I fucking laughed inside. Like a fucking lunatic.
Monster Ballads. With the biggest hits from your favorite '80s rockstars including KISS, Warrant, Winger, and Mr. Big! MusicSpace is offering this great 2-CD set for just $29.99!
I don't know how much
Monster Ballads costs but if I were in charge of deciding on its price, I would say a pubic hair would do just fine.
While walking through JCPenney on our way out to the car, my mom stopped to look at jewelry. Yes, I know jewelry at JCPenney is cheap and not the most flattering. But minus the fact that they don't shine as much as real shit does, the shapes and colors were pretty cute. She put a necklace in front of my neck to see how it would look and said it looks bad, and would probably look great on my sister because she has a cute face that only a really kind and generous person would have. And the fact that she doesn't ever know what to do outside of the house and therefore stays inside it her entire life, makes her more pale than yours truly so she's pretty much a whitie with blackie hair. She's the exact opposite of what I am, not fucking kidding. I have a hardcore shitfuck face, so cute and colorful things don't go on me very well.
In the car while driving to my dearly beloved Shop Rite, there was a road sign that said, "Rockaway." But some brilliant mind that should've been involved in the space program took a big sticker with the letter "C" on it and stuck it on top of the "R" so that the sign read, "Cockaway." This time, I really did laugh out loud and really tried to help myself from making noise. Luckily I did muffle myself out, because then my mother would've asked me what I was laughing at and she wouldn't like what I was going to tell her.
