I've been the master of bad moods lately. Perhaps it's from being off of birth control and my hormones are back to being fucked up like before. I don't want to be on that shit again because it's the reason I gained weight. And I thought that I would never ever gain weight [over what I normally looked] in the past. The only good thing that birth control did was fix the monthly bloodshed to being regular, and got rid of an entire pizza of zits - all to leave me with some pork fat to get rid of. The typical and true thing left to say is, "I miss being a goddamn twig."
Since the weather is hot, sticky, and excruciatingly uncomfortable today, I drank a lot of fluids in school and had the most undesirable urge to take a nice long Niagara piss by the end of the day. Holy shit, it was so bad that I couldn't conduct my famous act as Speedwalking Champion of the World. With every step that I took while walking home was like dragging a fucking wet watermelon in the front of my fucking pants. That, along with the fear of some shithead neighbor stopping me to talk about the same nosy redundant bullshit when I crossed onto my street which further induced my bladder's intention to let go.
But, thank god nobody bothered me. You don't fucking bother Christina when she walks home. When I dash out of that goddamn school, I dash out of that goddamn school to get to my goddamn house. (And then to the refridgerator.) No fuckers cutting grass, no fuckers getting their kids into the van to go to the boring and dirty park, no fuckers stopping me to ask where I want to go and major in for college. I'm so serious, every single time a pathetic neighbor who lacks more of an entertaining life than I do stops me outside to talk, they always, always, always ask the same two questions: "Where do you want to go for college? What do you want to major in when you get there?"
And every goddamn time I answer something within the lines of, "I don't know." Exclude the rolling of eyes under sunglasses and thinking, "Shut the fuck up I consist of more than just school." These people know me long enough, as in since I was four years old, to know that I am the Anti-Fucktard. Alright? Jesus Christ, when I'm out on my own, I want to purchase a big fucking house in the woods with twenty-five acres of land like Ted Nugent so that I could shoot all the animals that I want, stuff them up on my walls like a grown up's version of Build-A-Bear, and have all of the big backyard thrash metal parties that I want with no dipshit next door neighbors filing lawsuits and police complaints at me.
Not that they haven't already filed complaints at me. Not at me specifically, but at our household - for noise. Noise? We were fucking having construction done to our house, of course there's going to be noise. There is no such thing as silent construction. Like Voltaire says, "Common sense is not so common." That is absolutely true when you live in the suburbs where ignorant people with no lives reside their dumb asses in.
Christina N. @ 4:30 PM
Tuesday, May 30
What the hell is with all these fucked up strawberries that I keep running into? My mother went to Shop Rite earlier today, and made me clean some strawberries to eat later on. And I just happen to be the one who cleans the batch of completely fucked up strawberries. They're the Perry Farrells of fruit. I'm serious. It is absolutely, proposterously, DISGUSTING.
Hey Guiness, why haven't you come to interview me yet? I'm obviously an attraction to fucked up fruit when I should really be an attraction to James Ihas.
These things just scare the living shit out of me, especially because I'm a picky eater. Yeah I know I'm a pig, but I eat the pretty food, man.
Stupid plant sperm wasn't potent enough for them to actually split into two and save me a heart attack?
What is this, quintuplet? There's no such thing as twins, much less quintuplets or any of that shit in the world of fruit, alright? Just like how we don't like babies with five heads.
EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
And it's fucking orange.
For some reason this reminds me of a camel.
In comparison with normal strawberries.
See, ladies and gentlemen? This is what happens when you genetically fuck with America's produce. Thank god for organics. But the term "organic" wouldn't exist if we never fucked with our food in the first place.
Christina N. @ 8:47 PM
I really like being home alone because there's no one to yell at me. Whenever there's somebody else in the house that is related to me, all I get is a thunder shower of bullhorn screams and demands. Jesus fucking Christ. I understand that they care about me but up to a certain point, you're a fucking Nazi. A fucking Nazi, not that they are already ridiculous, but fucking ridiculous to the point where they should stop and think, and say, "Wait, does this make sense? What is Christina thinking about my logic exactly that compels her to be so pissed off?" Think about others wisely, please.
Last night around 1:30 she was banging on my door to tell me to go to sleep because she thought the Air Wick with a night light in my room was my TV turned on. Woman, chill the fuck out. You know I'm going to be a shooter when I'm out of the house, guaranteed. By the time I come home for Thanksgiving at the age of 26, I'll have more stripes going down my arm than the Swedish flag.
Christina N. @ 11:53 AM
Monday, May 29
Today was so overly boring, and since I was born into the asian heritage therefore being born under predominantly asian house rules, I was not allowed to go anywhere outside of the house with the exception of walking around our dead plants and/or getting the mail. So after listening to pretty much every single piece of shit on my computer, it all came down to one last song - "Separate Ways" by Journey. I'm going to hell for that one.
No wait, I go to hell if I diss the Beatles. Well I'm fucking going to hell anyway so I would just like to declare once again that they bore the life out of me and are annoying shit. Lucifer, you've got your next victim right here. But it should really be the hardcore Beatle lover that goes to hell because they probably wouldn't understand my abbhorrance of the Beatles even if I understand why they like the crap that they like in the first place.
Musically, the Beatles aren't bad. But for some reason they just bring this unescapable feeling of pain and discomfort into my body whenever I listen to them. It's like that annoying dripping of water on your roof. Or the chinese water torture treatment. It just keeps nagging at your brain like a fucking prick.
And what's with this pitiful and constant comparison with them and the Rolling Stones? They have absolutely nothing in common, except both being the biggest bands of the '60s and that they both pretty much arrived on the scene in '62. That's it, end of fucking list. Hey, at least the Stones have more surviving members. OUCH! Pat Morita, AKA Mr. Miyagi is dead. Of course I'm sad about that too.
There's also this bullshit hailing the Beatles as "the greatest band of all time." There's no such thing. If they were the greatest, then literally, everybody would think that they were the best musicians and songwriters of all fucking time. Of all fucking time? No fucking way. Would I say that Led Zeppelin was the greatest band of all time? I seriously would like to say so, but according to about 6 billion other people on this earth, they would say, "No fucking way."
What I don't understand about myself is, in my sole personal opinion, I think Led Zeppelin is the greatest band of all time, although not my favorite. Musically they were fucking gods. They played their instruments like no other. Individually they were the best out of all the others in their fields. There's those who say John Bonham was the best drummer of all time; Jimmy Page was the best guitarist of all time; Robert Plant was the best frontman/vocalist of all time. No one talks about John Paul Jones as much as he deserves to be talked about, but he genuinely is one of my favorite bass players, man. Put all of these amazing virtuosos together and you've got one fucking hell of a thundering machine from the heavens. Never could I "get so into the music" as to when listening to Zeppelin. Their talent is just so undeniably mind-blowing that I can't even describe to you enough how amazing they are. Yeah, they really blow my mind; as in give it a blow job.
My favorite band? Anthrax. That's what I don't get - my favorite band and the band that I think is the greatest in history are not one and the same. Then again, I probably do get it, but just can't spell it out clearly. Whatever, it doesn't fucking matter at all to officially declare your favorites and highest-rateds; because there is always the opposing party who thinks the absolute opposite, and usually with good reason.
I am so bored, that I'm just rambling about shit that would piss everybody off because that's my job. Guess why my mom is as crazy as she is.
Christina N. @ 9:28 PM
I would just like to say, that Rock Star is a horrible goddamn movie. As if that movie didn't suck enough, in addition to having Jennifer Aniston in it, she got Mark fucking third nipple Wahlberg in it too. She's the fucking one who requested for him to be the lead role. But I guess it all works out because the movie sucked even before he was cast. I was actually wincing in pain as I watched Rock Star. It is not funny, not entertaining, and nothing worth quoting about. Spinal Tap is probably laughing its ass off at what a piece of shit Rock Star is. And VH1 has to proceed in airing this movie whenever they have a rock block or some shit. Fucking twits.
Christina N. @ 5:07 PM
Friday, May 26
It's really sad that I spent an hour and a half last night playing one straight game of Chuck Norris Attack of the Massacre Ninjas trying to beat the high score. And then I found out that the game didn't keep track of high scores. Jesus fucking Christ. It's either that it didn't keep track of high scores, or that I still didn't fucking beat it. Dude, I had more than 100,000 points and more than 3,000 dead ninjas. Fuck you, man.
I was kicking so much ass that I had to leave Chuck standing there for like nine ninjas to beat his ass in order to lose because my mom was getting cranky and told me to go to bed. That game has a rightful place at addictinggames.com.
Since there was no school today, my mom and I decided that shopping down at Willowbrook would be a good idea. I could go get my iPod fixed and replenish on makeup. Well, turns out that I got neither thing done. After eating a tasty lunch of ranch-bacon fries and cinnamon sticks, we went straight to Delia's, where I spent almost up to $60 worth of shit there. (And yes, I almost got another new bag, motherfucker.)
The Willowbrook mall doesn't have a fucking Apple store. I fucking swear, every mall and its mother has an Apple store. Except for Willowbrook.
Sixteen more dollahs were gone at Old Navy for a surprisingly nice denim jacket. The Gap has practically the same jacket worth $60. You just got served, Gap. You too, Sarah Jessica Parker.
I spent another ten bucks at Macy's and two dollars for a bottle of Brisk because some stupid shitwad knocked off the "OUT OF ORDER" sign on the first machine that I used so I lost fifty cents. Damn, that's why it wasn't eating up my dollar.
Christina N. @ 5:39 PM
Thursday, May 25
I recently went through my music collection and found that I have a shitload of Incubus albums - the only one that I'm missing is Enjoy Incubus. And damn, they really are good shit. Ever since I couldn't find my Anthrax shit anymore, I could officially get through with life right now. Not that I depended on Anthrax like a 109-year-old depends on an iron lung.
A long time ago I recall talking about Faith No More's The Real Thing and how I didn't like it as much as Angel Dust and how it "ain't the real thing." Well, like someone has told me before, it takes you a while and a number of listens before you start to like Faith No More's material and it gradually grows on you. It truly is. The Real Thing is good shit and now ever since I've watched the film Pay it Forward, I'll always think of Mike Patton and the bully kid who shares the same hair. I fucking swear, there is a mini Mike Patton in Pay it Forward.
Christina N. @ 4:58 PM
Wednesday, May 24
I have come up with what I want to do in life. I want to write a book about nothing. Seriously, I am going to write a 150-200 page book on the ethics and every single aspect of Nothing. Just watch me, I'll make millions. It would be like that extremely controversial book Nigger that made a big hype a few years ago; an entire book revolving around just one word. (I think that book was only around 90 pages long anyway? Who the fuck knows, I didn't read it, surprisingly.) And the great thing is, Nothing is an even more general term than the other word, so I'd have a shitload more to talk about. Hell yeah, man. Let me start right now.
Nothing? What is the definition of "nothing?" According to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition, defines "nothing" as:
1. Something that has no existence.
2. Something that has no quantitative value.
3. One that has no substance or importance; a nonentity.
In two out of the three definitions that are given, it seems as though one cannot escape the route of being forced to include the word "something." But what is "something?" We must ask that question too. "Nothing" and "something" are both of what we could say as mysterious entities that are of no particular at all. "Entity," as we know it, is a fact of existence; so in other words, "entity" is just the mere knowledge that we know something exists. [So "nothing" is someting that does not exist.] Therefore, could we say that a dead person is nothing, since they do not exist any longer? I only suggest you ask Keith Richards that question.
The second definition of "nothing" states that it is something that has no quantitative value. So basically, the number zero is nothing. That is very obvious. Any person who does not understand that should become nothing right now.
Let's look at the third and last definition: One that has no substance or importance; a nonentity. When using the word "one," what does the person mean by saying that? "One" could be substituted for pretty much virtually anything in the universe. But since it is being used to define the term "nothing" in this case, "one" is means "nothing."
"Nothing," perhaps, is one of the most widely used words in the english language. It is preferrably used by the person whom cannot think of another word during a conversation, so their natural reaction is mostly to just say, "Nothing."
It is also a word used many times in the action of denial. When someone is hiding something that they are doing, and another person comes along asks what they are doing, they would usually find themselves backing away from the actual truth and just bluntly and simply saying, "Nothing."
See? I could go on forever just talking about nothing. Notice how vague that last sentence sounded.
So there is going to be a five-day Memorial Day weekend coming up, and I have to go get my iPod fucking fixed. Whenever I try to turn it on, the screen doesn't even light up. It just shows the stupid fucking bitten apple in the middle of the screen for about thirty seconds and then goes to this other screen - a file with an exclamation mark in front of it - for about five seconds and then shuts off. Happens all the time, even when I charge it after leaving the battery to die. Fuck you, Steve Jobs. For creating this conspiracy and stupid trend known as the "iPod." Not to mention the stupid trend of capitalizing the second letter of an important word. And fuck you too, Bill Gates. For making my brand new computer compatible with the upcoming Windows Vista: First Edition, but not with the much better Windows Vista: Second Edition. Jesus Christ, whenever I say "edition," I think of that god awful shitty show starring the also shitsome Ty Pennington from the yet also absolutely shitsome Trading Spaces - Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. There should be no show with such a long and ridiculous name.
Same thing with bands. Pathetic bands becoming [undeservedly] famous that bear long and stupid names with about three or four words in them (i.e. Fall Out Boy, hellogoodbye is three fucking words still, okay?). But the longest one that I had ever heard was: Rocking Back & Forth to Create the Illusion of Satisfaction. Just their name alone takes up about a good third of a flyer. I've never heard their music before but I'm guessing that they're a shitty emo band whose band members' balls are constricted to $300 denim purchased at Diesel. As we have seen throughout history, any sort of constriction to the human body is gross and disgusting [mainly to our culture and probably a ton of others]. You know, those crazy ethnic women with the rings around their necks and binding their waists with rope or chinese people fucking up their feet. Once the binding comes off, you've got yourself a fucking mini giraffe. Or maybe Celine Dion if you're lucky.
Christina N. @ 5:22 PM
Tuesday, May 23
So this hype surrounding The Da Vinci Code. People need to shove it up their ass and stop pushing it down on me to watch the movie and read the book because come on, considering my level of asshole do you really think I'm going to listen to you despite all this time that I spend sitting in my room doing nothing? No. Do the fucking logic.
But, I do like Tom Hanks and the movie looks good and to save myself from having my head karate chopped off by my monstrous asian mother, I might go see it for extra credit in english class. I'd probably end up not going out to see it; the answer is in the previous paragraph.
I admit it, I'm one of those types who after coming home from wherever the fuck they were, just sits in their room in front of the computer and reads works by Voltaire for about six hours a day. Used to be eight hours but my mother got so pissed off and threatened to take away my computer and my phone so I jumped the bar a little. Just a little, though. Guess how thick my cranium is and win a prize.
I also have a LiveJournal and the following crap is about LiveJournal friends. Just thought I'd share.
And now concerning this stupid LiveJournal bullshit. To be honest, I only started this thing because I wanted to keep in touch with a number of my friends, until I got bored and started actually using it [in addition to Blogger]. This isn't even recent - I've noticed for quite a while now - me and a couple close others have noticed that some folks on my friends list are trying to emulate my writing style. I don't think anyone ever knew this, because it just pisses me off so much that I never mention it, that when somebody copies me in any way shape or form it's like ticking off Axl Rose's thermometer. I'll pull a fucking Tommy Hilfiger on you.
That's right, using the same formatting for your entries, music, mood, italicizing and quoting certain mechanical structures, and spacing and centering pictures with just as much precision as I do. Imitating my language and suddenly taking interest in certain things that I happen to talk about, or taking notice of shit that obviously came out of my mouth at first. Jesus fucking Christ, I'm OCD. That's why I like perfect grammar and don't do sleepovers, fucking Webster.
Am I that much of a fucking role model to you? Am I that much of a fucking role model to you? If there is anyone to look up to, it definitely isn't me. (So are the Rolling Stones, you don't want to be like them. Are they cool? Yeah, sure, of course they are - they're the fucking Stones. But just take at Keith Richards' current state. Wanna be like him?) It's your goddamn journal. Remember what the term "journal" means. It's just you; the bare you. Write the raw shit that goes on in your mind without acknowledging or even thinking about the possibility of someone else reading it. That what a journal or diary or blog or whatever the hell you use is. If you're copying me, you know who you are and just keep this in mind the next time you write a LiveJournal entry and propose your lame attempt at impressing whoever it is that you are trying to attempt; because it ain't fucking working.
The reason that I prefer not to make this piece of crap "friends only" is that I'm not hiding anything and everyone has the right to enjoy my shit. No one wants to be that menstruating bitch with the enlarged tampon up her ass who filters out the "chosen" ones. I would never do a friends cut either because of that same reason, but I'm thinking about changing my mind because a handful of idiots just ruined it for the party. I know I never comment like a good buddy should, but I read; I pay attention and that's at least consideration. The more, the merrier, man. Even if I did do a cut, you're still welcome to read. I just don't want to see or even hear about your mimicry from that point on again. Because apparently one of the biggest "in" things that have been going on is pointing out posers. Well just look at your fucking self.
So the moral of this story is: Don't be a fucking mime, n00b.
Christina N. @ 6:00 PM
Monday, May 22
So Saturday was some pretty fucking good times. I think it started at around 6:30? Can't remember, Natalia and I were too drunk to even take many pictures of the first two bands (Kodiac Bear Regiment and The Jonah Complex) and even taking a piss and talking to Eric was pretty difficult. While in the car riding home and previewing the pictures that I had taken, I thought, "Damn, I did a fucking bad job."
Couldn't take that many because I was taping too many videos so they took up the majority of my camera's memory, therefore I regret not being able to record Knife the Glitter's a capella version of one of their songs which I can't really remember the name of either. But hey, it was the greatest shit ever, man.
Drummer from The Jonah Complex. A pretty gifted guy I would have to say. Not to mention pretty bangin' also.
Sorry for the bad pictures I couldn't concentrate on how to take good ones.
That's Eric struttin' his stuff.
Birth Screams fucking owned, man.
Evan from Birth Screams.
Operation Rolling Thunder
Bad time perception and I was too slow and Evan moved so his bass got in the way. Would've been quite the kickass picture though.
Jon
Evan
Jon
Rocked so hard his fingers started bleeding, man.
Check out Kevin's cute little outfit.
Natalia took this one but I just had to include it because it's the funniest shit ever.
This was during Red Light Green Light's set. The white speckle shit is sweat flying everywhere in the mosh pit. There were these two guys, one was holding the other's legs under his arms, and the other guy was jumping with his arms. Holy shit, motherfucker.
Knife the Glitter!
They were really nice guys, and posed and made funny faces at me when I took pictures of them. Such as Kevin, what a sillygoose.
Ryan and the only really good picture that I took all night. Probably my last one, too. Go figure. And still some bad time perception lingering about, which explains the excess elbow.
Christina N. @ 7:12 PM
Sunday, May 21
I'm really pissed right now but, LET'S GET THIS ON!!
Yesterday after the most dull and pointless day at work, I took Jeannie to go see Birth Screams, Knife the Glitter, Red Light Green Light, The Jonah Complex, and Kodiac Bear Regiment at the Cedar Lake Clubhouse in Denville and met up with Natalia upon stepping out of the car. Show started late so we just hung around the little kiddie playground for about an hour. It rained and shone at least five times during the course of that one fucking hour.
Show was fucking excellent though, holy shit, man. I can't even say.
Buzzed on vodka and soda.
Fucking buzzed.
I never knew I had such long arms.
Don't drink and slide.
Alright I'm really short on time right now so I'll show you kids pictures of the awesome bands later at a time when my mom isn't so inclined to stab me in the neck.
Christina N. @ 9:36 PM
Friday, May 19
Uhhh...there was a groundhog in my backyard a few days ago. Along with a chipmunk, at the same fucking time, man. Just thirty fucking feet apart from each other. There was even a motherfucking squirrel. I was going nuts. Pun intended.
It looks like a beaver.
Motherfucker looks like a diseased and rotting mini-watermelon.
Fatass could actually stand up.
Shaina's doing better and should be out of that hospital soon. A shitload has just been lifted off of my shoulders.
Tomorrow I have to go to work at 11:00 in the morning and I think I'm working with my junkie buddy again. He better be there, otherwise that shit is going to be boring as hell. And then when I get out at 4:00, I'll be heading to a show, man. Fuck yeah.
Today in history we watched this documentary on Richard Nixon, and when they talked about him proposing to his wife on the first day that they met, this dipshit sitting next to me starts laughing. Dude how the fuck is that funny? I don't have much of an opinion on Richard Nixon, but I do know that such a thing as that isn't something to laugh your ass off about. Not that it's serious or anything either. She just needs to shut the fuck up. I've talked about this chick before and she always laughs at the dumbest fucking things - loudly and obnoxiously. Yeah, remember that Scooby Doo "RHUT RHE RUCK RUP!" picture? That's for her. Jesus fucking Christ.
I swear, two more times and I'm turning around to tell her to shove her fucking vocal chords up her ass and make her take a laxative. Nobody can take it anymore. She even laughed at some parts of the Vietnam War. I'm Vietnamese, and it's probable that I take that shit seriously, but the moral thing is that it is still not a laughing situation at all.
Christina N. @ 5:35 PM
Thursday, May 18
This is for Shaina whenever she gets the chance. It's some real funny shit. Trying to cheer you up, dear. I don't care if you've seen it already, but dude, I think Jeordie White was talking about how Billy Corgan and Mel Gibson did a re-make of Over the Top and I laughed my ass off. You know, that fucking awesome Sylvester Stallone movie where he wins an arm wrestling contest and wins a new truck for him and his son to travel in; it's truly the American dream. And James Iha says this shit on how he'd like to rent a wombat. Funny shit, man.
Christina N. @ 5:34 PM
Wednesday, May 17
Many people always say that they are tired from lack of sleep. Well yeah that's fucking obvious. But had it ever occured to you that when you overcome the not getting used to getting more sleep phase, that when you get into the habit of getting more sleep you really feel superior? That's true, dude. Work could just kiss my ass because I'd rather get my beauty rest, motherfucker.
But I'm probably talking out of my ass because my mom's been making me take this heroin-like substance every night to get rid of my horrible allergies. She says they're herbs and they improve your health in every way - give you energy, make you sleep better, and of course make your allegies go away. So far it's working exceptionally well. I always ask her what the hell this stuff is but she says she doesn't know; all she knows that it is fucking amazing shit. It truly is. Whatever the hell these "herbs" are, the creator of these things deserves a Nobel Prize.
What is it exactly you say? It's this powdery black shit that is in the shape and size of a marble. Apparently it is so powerful that I have to take just half a marble every day and old folks have to take one whole marble every day.
Christina N. @ 10:39 PM
Tuesday, May 16
Sloth? Hell yeah.
| Your Deadly Sins |
| Sloth: 100% |
| Envy: 60% |
| Pride: 60% |
| Gluttony: 40% |
| Greed: 40% |
| Lust: 40% |
| Wrath: 40% |
| Chance You'll Go to Hell: 54% |
| You will die with your hand down your underwear, watching Star Trek. |
Christina N. @ 8:02 PM
So how have things been going? I had a mighty fine day, but while taking a nap just a half hour ago, my cell phone rings. On the screen it said that Shaina was calling. Turns out it was her mother, to tell me that the mono shit in her throat "has just taken a turn for the worse and her throat had swelled up again. She's back on the IV."
I'm fucking terrified. Shaina's been in the hospital for let's see, three days. I think today is the fourth. I was just talking to her yesterday and she seemed to be really getting better because talking wasn't as much of a problem as it had been before. But since I've just heard that it got worse, I really don't know what to think. I don't know much about this mono shit, obviously because I don't know the rest of it's fucking name. But I hear about it from time to time.
If there's one type of situation that I hate and fear the most, in all honesty; is hospital situations. Even though that show House with Hugh Laurie and his scraggly scumbag beard fucking rules, I fucking hate hospitals. They're never a good place. Not even when babies are born because when I went to the hospital when my sister was born and that was not cool at all. The only decent thing during that whole experience was when my mom let me eat the chocolate pudding in the cute little pink hospital tupperware that it came in.
I can't remember the last time that I went to hospital, but I have gone to someplace to get an x-ray. They made me drink this thick white barium shit and I shit out white fucking shit the next day. Sometime around that, I also had to go get a blood sample. They strapped that heroin users' rubber tubing around my arm and I watched the vile fill up with red stuff. It was pretty cool, but the big black guy who was taking my blood wasn't very nice. I would make a great heroin addict, you know.
In other news, I'm typing on a whole new fucking computer and I'm not used to speed and well, the ability to do anything. A Dell XPS 400, man. 19-inch monitor and pretty much everything else that I could possibly want in a computer. Dude, when I walked up to the door yesterday when coming home and saw the big fatass Dell box through the glass, I yelled, "MY COMPUTER'S HERE!" I never yell. That was quite an action. I never yell because my James Earl Jones-like voice doesn't allow me to. I've lost the ability to scream like a normal girl. You know, that really loud, obnoxious, screechy high scream that is always accompanied with cheesy 1950s horror flicks. Have you ever noticed that Nosferatu looks like Willem Dafoe? No wonder he was the vampire in Shadow of the Vampire.
Damn, talk about obvious right there. But it's always important to include Willem Dafoe into your day as much as possible.
There was a field trip today to the Princeton University Art Museum. Nice place with nice art and shitty people. The people were real uptight about staying away from the plexi-glassed artwork, because a fucking kid once cut their face when they bumped into it. Yeah, I know I'm lame but I don't think I'm lame enough to actually smash my fucking goddamn head onto a piece of plexi-glass. Believe me, I watched this thing on TV where a guy flew head-first through a plexi-glass window on his boat and into the water. His entire face was smashed into pieces and the doctors had to bolt it all back together, piece by piece. The images of him lying on the hospital bed with a flat, floppy face were not what I would call a Cindy Crawford. I learned from watching that, man.
The tour guide was a prick, the security guards were pricks, everybody who worked there was a prick. I wanted out. After looking at the art by myself, of course. I don't need a fucking guide to help me look at art. I interpret it the way I want to, and that includes humor. Fuck your stupid "take-no-shit" snootyness. The guide was pretty interesting and seemed nice for part of the time, but once somebody bumped into by accident a plexi-glassed sculpture or when someone was too close to a painting, her face would crinkle into a dried chili pepper and would bitch and moan at the poor kid.
Tour guides also tend to talk way too fucking much about one thing for too long. Standing there and listening to them blabber on about stupid crap is excruciating. Like I give a flying fuck about how many degrees from the corner of the canvas that the fifty-fifth bristle from the right side of a brush was when the artist applied that one brushstroke? Come on, stop being such a stuck up cunt and showing off your [literally] excessive useless knowledge on things that we shouldn't be standing in front of for more than three minutes. The thing is, everybody analyzes things differently and sees things in different ways than everyone else. Being the extremely opinionated individual myself, I don't want to hear your stupid boring bullshit, be forced to agree with everything that you say and I don't want to stand in one place cracking twenty-five different knuckles three times over and over. Sometimes I wish I could've taken a picture of my face somehow during the tour because I swear you could've read the "You're a fucking moron and I don't want to be here under your stupid fucking rules" expression on my face. Also known as the typical asshole face. I rolled my eyes so many times during the tour that I should be officially cross-eyed in a couple years. I'm serious. If that tour lasted any longer I was about to bust a cap.
On the bus I hung out with Angelica in a three-seater, and since there was no third party this other kid had nowhere to sit, so he had to sit with us. The ride was about an hour long and I was stuck in the middle of the chair. This kid sat pretty snug onto the seat so the entire time I sat with my arms stuck out in front of me like a diligent and polite little motherfucker. It was rather uncomfortable. And then the kid falls asleep with his head on his arm and elbow on his knee. Well, when people fall asleep they don't pay attention to where they're falling. Dude, this kid's body weight was on top of me and holy fucking shit, I could not move. If he put an ounce more pressure on my tits in his slumber, I was about to poke him and tell him that his sleeping habits were not appropriate.
At the primetime of pain, he woke up and apologized. Thank goodness. Of course I forgave the kid. When you gotta sleep, you gotta sleep. He was real nice about it. I mean if he were like Axl Rose or some shithead like that and said something to me like, "You're invading my motherfucking territory, motherfucker," then I would've smashed his huge balls into mini matzah ball soup.
After we left Princeton, the majority vote on the bus made for everyone to eat at the local Taco Bell in Hillsborough. Even though Taco Bell is okay to say the most, there was a bagel store next door so me and a number of others ditched the tools at Taco Bell and crossed the grassy knoll to Bagels-4-U. Since I had no breakfast and by what Angelica says, "a monster," I got bacon and cheese on an onion bagel, and another everything bagel with vegetable cream cheese. The second bagel was originally intended to be saved for later on (possibly tomorrow), but my old habit kicked in and I ate it right when I finished the first bagel. Jesus Christ.
Angelica and I were all wondering for minutes on whether this was a church or not. And why it was so big. It was the damn college.
Nice campus, eh?
Sexy. Reminds me of Talking Heads.
I hope my future boyfriend looks like this.
Greeks have a tendency to be born with a birth defect which does not allow them to have limbs.
I see people dancing, I see people waving sparklers, and I see horses playing leapfrog with people. This is a joyful work of art.
Damn, she's sexy.
This thing seriously scares the shit out of me.
Sexual harassment during ancient Greek times.
A wall with mosaics.
This is either a fountain or a Greek bath or some shit. Looks really nice though. I want something like that in my future pimp mansion.
This sign was posted between the two stalls in the girls' bathroom at Bagels-4-U. I love how they worked so hard to make the writing so fancy and even include a border to cut out those nice, rounded edges. Holy shit.
This shit for some reason always cracks me up. No pun intended.
Christina N. @ 7:45 PM
Friday, May 12
I finally have a weekend, the first in months, with no major schoolwork to do. True, I don't do anything until Sunday afternoon after work, but I finally have all that shit off of my shoulders and went back to what I am quite known to do - lay around. The thing about yawning and stretching too much is that I keep getting these nasty fucking charlie horses on my neck. You bet it's painful. I think charlie horses happen due to a lack of oxygen in your muscles or calcium or something; I don't know, it's some kind of lack of some shit from your body.
I have also come to the conclusion that I need new video games. It's really sad when you have had an Xbox for five(?) years and only have two games for it. I need to find a game where you just walk around and shoot shit - don't want the extra strategy and mission crap, I just want to continuously shoot crap for hours upon hours. Now that is a quality video game. Tomb Raider always required too much thinking and that is just plain too much requirement in a video game for a person like me. I think I already beat both games that I have, and played one in hopes of kicking major alien ass but got bored within five minutes after killing myself a hundred times.
Oh yeah, and even if I do own a Sony Playstation too, me and my sister beat all of those games mercilessly. Shut the fuck up, I don't care if Playstation games cost five dollars right now. CD's are more important right now so video games are out of my budget.
The urge to buy clothes has strangely gone away for the past two weeks or so. It's really odd, because right around now or this weekend should be when I get another damn bag. It is very quite sad. And I don't think that last sentence sounded right but who gives a flying fuck?
This is the gayest superhero that I have ever seen:
Christina N. @ 5:41 PM
Wednesday, May 10
I would like to make it clear that: ska sucks. Jesus Christ, I seriously cannot stand that shit. I first heard a ska song in middle school when one of my friends really wanted me to listen to a song by Catch-22 because she said it was really cute and my name was in the title. I agreed to listen because Catch-22 is a damn good book. At that time, I had never heard of ska much less know what the fuck it was. Well, when I listened to the song, I literally just sat there with a thousand question marks floating around in my head wondering, "What the fuck is this?"
It wasn't even a negative disliking towards the music yet, I was just genuinely confused. Go ahead, kids, listen to it. I forgot the fucking title of it except for the Kristina part so if you're real smart, or if you just happen to like Catch-22, you'll know what song I'm talking about.
Catch-22, you fucking disgraced the book. But who knows, I'm probably talking bullshit because maybe they didn't get their name from the book. Then again they probably did, because I don't think there was ever such a thing as a "catch-22," but Joseph Heller just chose to call his book "Catch-22" because he really wanted to use the term "catch-18," but there was already some other book with that title. Shit, I totally forgot; whether there really is such a thing as a catch-22 or if Joseph Heller just made it up because some other fucker took Catch-18. I think some people use the term "catch-22" in conversation sometimes because maybe that pop culture term derived from the book but it really means catch-18. Who fucking knows.
Today I bought a bottle of lemon tea Vitamin Water, and I really regret it because I should've thrown the idea of trying out a new flavor into the fucking garbage and bought a flavor that I already know tastes decent - kiwi-strawberry. Lemon tea tastes like fucking honey-lemon Ricola cough drops and if Vitamin Water was trying to emulate the brilliant creation known as Nestea, then they might as well set fire to the entire goddamn Vitamin Water factory because they just stained lemon tea's perfect reputation.
Fucker.
Speaking of other things that piss me off, check out how the weather is supposedly going to be for the next ten days:
What the fuck is this? This isn't fucking Scandinavia or some shit. Just watch, it's false and we'll get ten straight days of sunshine. I wouldn't be surprised. Fuck you, Weather Channel, and your increase of asian meteorologists. We clearly suck at detecting the weather. If we were any good at it, our hair wouldn't have burnt into black and we wouldn't be yellow from all the heat and sun. Yeah, I know I'm lame.
Christina N. @ 8:32 PM
Tuesday, May 9
Have you ever read the label on the pink lemonade Snapple bottle? It repeatedly says that the drink is all-natural, made from all-natural ingredients. So I read the list of ingredients. Apparently, it also contains vegetable juice for the color. Uh, doesn't the pink in pink lemonade come from pink lemons? So technically they're fucking with the real essence of lemon just to make it pink? I have come to the conclusion that Snapple is run by a company of horrible, lying motherfuckers who do not use real fruits in their beverages.
This brings me to the question: Is there really such thing as pink lemons? Yeah, I know it sounds dumb but I'm fucking serious. How the hell is pink lemonade made and where does the pink come from? If it comes from some stupid bullshit like vegetable juice, then I might as well bury myself right now because this is the dumbest fucking question I have pondered at all year.
LIARS!!!!
I am particularly angry at this brand of beverage because it is seems to run a monopoly at just about every place that sells cheap food. And you know us New Jerseyans love cheap food. Gatorade is a given. Stupid shit doesn't even taste good. But Vitamin Water - I'm gonna get you.
Christina N. @ 7:27 PM
Monday, May 8
Has anyone ever seen Face/Off? That movie fucking rules, man. Not really, it just kicked ass and there's a prison riot during the movie. Everybody knows that a movie is instantly awesome once it has a prison riot in it. Trust me on this. Why did Crossroads suck? It didn't have a prison riot scene in it.
Nicholas Cage is a horrible actor and John Travolta needs to find a new role. But for some reason that movie fucking owned. Yet again, it's probably because of the prison riot. I remember watching Face/Off as a kid when my grandpa rented it from Blockbuster, and being sad because John Travolta's kid gets shot while riding on a carousel, and being scared shitless because Nicholas Cage was walking around with no fucking face. Overall I would rate this flick a guilty pleasure.
Check out Travolta's facial bowels.
But then again, I'm such a sucker for dumb action movies. Like a couple weeks ago when I was watching Commando. I laughed my fucking ass off when The Arnold threw a 2-foot-wide metal pipe that was about 10-feet-long right through a guy's torso; while his 12-year-old daughter was standing right behind him watching the whole thing happen. Every action star is a bad father.
The one thing that I totally, totally hate saying is that I used to be a Steven Seagal fan. Dude, I admit it. I have no idea why the hell anyone would take that man seriously, but I did. Holy fucking Jesus. I'd like to see that loser trying to drop a 20-pound turd and see if his facial expression changes, because clearly it is already in its constipation form - twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Maybe he smiles, because the opposite of a no-crap grimace is a smile. Maybe for him it's the opposite and he smiles when he craps. I don't know. God what the fuck am I talking about?
And who hasn't watched Kung Fu at least five times already? I didn't find out that David Carradine wasn't chinese until fucking Kill Bill came out. Talk about slow. He still sucks at kung fu. Although, he makes a great sandwich. I think he finally noticed that he seriously can't kick a block of wood's ass and nowadays just hosts Wild West Tech on the History Channel. He is a smart guy.
Fucking pwnz.
Christina N. @ 7:39 PM
