So Amy did come by and hang out with your favorite asian for the day. We baked brownies and rainbow cake and watched Spinal Tap and Wayne's World while drinking lemonade, milk, water and salty ass vegetable chips too. Fuckin' pigs, man. But we ain't no fat fucks!
Fuck mixing
Amy seems to enjoy it, though.
Betty Crocker, come to serve you diarrhea.
Diarrhea extreme close-up
(tray ended up being too big, goddamn)
Mmmmm, salmonella!
Rainbow Brite
We were stupid and put on the icing too early and it started melting off the cake, so we decided to place it in the freezer downstairs.
This is the cover of a wildlife preservation pamphlet found at your local community center.
Throwing ice bottles at 40-year-old barbecues down below
You diggin' it?
I sure am.
Eatin' boogies!
Taking a shit
Only someone who has just dumped a turd the size of Louisiana could smile this big.
Washing your body and your clothes at the same time is multi-tasking for the genius.
Don't forget the ween!
Thinking about what to wear tomorrow
Gotta go gotta go!
Just taking my time
Aiming at my nudist neighbor.
Hunting lawn gnomes and garden flamingoes requires the deepest concentration an experienced professional could possibly muster.
The new Pink Floyd album cover: Tai Chi & Green Goblins
The Unibomber
Satanic fire in my eyes.
Cats just love to drink out of my cock
Can't believe the Dollar Store would sell silk panties with feathers and a bell in the center. For the kinky Puerto Ricans.
My ass is full of love.
Pam Anderson ain't got shit on me
Sexual predators drool over this!
And this.
This is what your pubes look like when you shampoo and condition them.
That is not a hat, you catch fish with that thing.
Yeeeee-haw TJ Maxx has all the greatest styles and trends.
This is the natural me.
All the norweigans bow down to me
I'm going to get great presents this year.
Celine Dion singing "My Heart Will Go On"
Ball swings
High Land
Firecrotch!
Fuck you, Michael Flatley. I got a better act.
One that includes Jesus
and Mary Magdalene.
This is the new Calvin Klein billboard on Route 46
The End.
Christina N. @ 2:46 AM
Wednesday, August 30
Motherfucker, my awesome friend Amy F. whom I haven't seen in fucking ages is coming over at 2:00 and my mom went to work early today, so she might come home while Amy is here. That means I have to go into pussy mode and not be myself, which would totally bore Amy. Totally lame, but those of you with totalitarian/fascist/Mussolini-for-those-who-don't-know parents know what I'm talking about. No cursing, no screaming, no drinking. No chocolate either with my mom, she says it makes me break out. Fuck that pathetic theory. I used to eat shitloads of chocolate at school, and it would do me no harm. But when I ate chocolate at home, I'd break out from the stress over my mom going all apeshit and whatnot. Jesus fucking Christ.
Nowadays, whenever I go out, my mom calls me and tells me, NO DRINKING!!! or else she'd cut my head off with her butcher knife. Come on, I'd love to have some brooskies, but with that kind of a circumstance, I can't drink without a head. Unless I'm like that headless chicken from way back when whose owner fed him corn kernels by stuffing them down his throat. Just place a funnel on my neck and keep on pouring down that vodka, bitch.
You know what annoys me? When people call you, ask you how you are for one second, and then proceed to talk about nothing but themselves and their supposedly amazing lives for 45 minutes, and not wanting any interruption whatsoever. Goddamn, I've got people doing that to me all the time and expecting me to listen and actually care. Well I do care up to some point, but I'm not your verbal diary here. Sometimes people talk so fucking much about themselves, I just sit there with the phone to my ear, periodically saying, "Uh huh" after every few sentences, while I'm watching TV or doing shit on the computer. And it wouldn't even matter, that's how much crap people keep wanting me to listen to. But I guess you have to sit there and listen to be a good buddy.
I guess I do that sometimes too, but it's because the other person isn't really giving me anything; as in feedback or anything about themselves to talk about, so I could bounce back on that. Like "dead conversations," as I like to call them.
I want to take this moment to comment on the complete suckage of U2. Hey Edge, did you know that your guitar can play more than five chords? Come fucking on. I can't even listen to the Ramones anymore because they bore me for pretty much the same reason - all of their songs sound the same. AC/DC is sort of like that, too. But no bands piss me off more when they come on the radio like The Beatles, U2, Jethro Tull, and Rush. Ulgh, talk about fucking suicide if you decide to stay on that same radio station. And Bono, did you know that you bump into things and trip and fall on your ass if you wear sunglasses in the dark? I'm sorry, I guess you're a big Corey Hart fan.
It's really sad that I don't know a single person who loves Tom Petty [and The Heartbreakers] as much as me. That man is so utterly amazing, I can't even say. No five-paragraph rant about him. Nope. He doesn't need it.
Been coughing up loogies all morning. Phlegm and mucous and shit, while coughing like a chain smoker. Ever since I got back from Kentucky, my throat has been a real damn motherfucker. And I really don't want my mom to find out because she'll blame it on my lifestyle or some habit that I have that isn't really relevant to the situtation, or something that has nothing to do at all with my throat.
Christina N. @ 10:40 PM
Stupid shitface is starting to call my house again, since my cell phone is apparently the wrong number to him. At this point, I wish those four guys who did the amazing prank calls for me last weekend lived with me right now.
Christina N. @ 1:15 PM
Monday, August 28
I need to stop eating gum whenever I get nervous. It's a dumb fucking habit, man. Like whenever I'm at work and am in the presence of a few peers/co-workers/whateverthefuck and have nothing to say (as usual), sticking my hand in my pocket and pulling out to unwrap a piece of gum keeps me busy and gives me an excuse not to talk and stand through an awkward silence; which I have been through many.
I used to go through a pack a day. Partially because it was orange-flavored Orbit gum, which is just as addicting as crack-cocaine.
Work wasn't too bad on thy late Monday of August. My hot assistant manager Steve and I formed the Pier 1 Imports Minority Mafia and we hit whiteys. Fuck yeah. He's cuban and I'm asian, so he cuts with machetes and I pinch your cock with chopsticks. I don't know. Vietnamese people are lame. We don't even have our own form of martial arts, which is critical for my type of asian - black hair, yellow skin and mail slot eyes. Do we even have a cool torture method? Probably, because I would have heard about it by now. I mean, chinese people have the crazyass water torture, arabians tie each of a man's limbs to four different horses [for each limb] and make them run in opposite directions, and japanese people cut each other's pinkies off. What do I have? Nothing. Except the scent of raw nail polish.
Last night Sally took me to the diner and we played pool at the pool hall with her best friends Dawn and Dan. Her 12-year-old brother had to join all of us because he was bored at home. What a goddamn pain in the ass. I had a good time though, even if my billiard skills have downgraded much much more significantly since the last time I played; which was about a year ago. Jesus fucking Christ, I sucked. I can't believe I was even an expert back in the day. What the flying fuck, I suck at life.
Hey look, it's me!
We all look the same.
Christina N. @ 8:09 PM
Sunday, August 27
So me and four of my friends prank called the son of a bitch about 15 times last night. I didn't say anything, because my plan was to have Quoc (pronounced "wuck," don't ask me why) speak english in his stupid retarded way of talking, added to his weird accent. He cursed and made sex jokes to the idiot and rambled about all this odd shit. Me and everyone else were laughing so hard that we literally had to cover our mouths. I buried my fucking face in a blanket to muffle myself out.
After about seven calls (dude we were having such a fucking riot with this shithead), Quoc started wearing a Darth Vader mask with its built-in voice changer.
Then my dad's friend came along (at about our fifth call) and did the most hilarious fucking Hannibal impression. I remember of it as this:
"I am Hannibal Lechter. I eat human meat!" in this grainy, low voice. Alongside his tenth beer or so, of course.
He also came back for the last call, where he talked about how meat in New Jersey is cooked differently than meat in Philadelphia, or some shit. That call was about a minute and a half long, Jesus fucking Christ I could not stop cracking up.
I think we all scared off the son of a bitch, and the great thing is, he most likely doesn't know it's really my cell phone number that he'd called seven fucking times yesterday and a total of about 11 or 12 times all week, because I never picked up the phone and instead just made a bunch of fucked up guys saying weird shit and questioning his sexuality.
The moron stopped picking up after the fifth call, so we left him a shitload of voice messages. I mean, if Hannibal is calling you and talking about "meat," then he'd most likely get the idea that I'm either not interested, or that I gave him the wrong phone number. And if he doesn't get it, well then some nasty fucking balls are going to be busted with iron clamps pretty soon.
I mean, who the fuck would call a girl seven times in a day, and three times within the course of a half hour? Holy fucking shit, RETARD. And then proceed to keep answering consecutive phone calls that are obviously going to be childish, hurtful pranks? You should get the idea on this idiot's level of stupidity.
He hasn't called me today, which is a good sign. I just hope the fucktard doesn't start calling my house again. Fuckin' A.
So, why not get rid of something bad and annoying by twisting it around and turning it into something fun? It was a genius idea, I must say. Asshole? I know.
Christina N. @ 1:10 PM
Saturday, August 26
Motherfucker called me four times before 1:00 in the afternoon even came around. I kind of wish I knew some funky language (besides vietnamese because it's totally asian and I am totally asian so he'd know it's me just fucking around) just to confuse the son of a bitch. Maybe I should ask Ilona to speak russian to the idiot so that he'd think it's the wrong number and never call again.
The interview at Mandee didn't go too smoothly. I think the girl liked me and the weekends-only shit overall, but the bad part was that associates usually get $7 an hour. Screw that shit, man. I'll only take the job if they give me at least $8 an hour because I'm tired of this uneven $7.61 Pier 1 crap.
After that, my mom took me to Target to buy something for her friend's new baby, Matthew. I saw this odd toy and fell in love with it. I mean, it's got a fucking pillow for a head. How could I not love it? Seriously, I fucking wanted to own that motherfucker. But at the same time I need to throw away my brick of a cell phone and save up for other more important things. Not that Honk-Honk-Ashoo isn't important, it's just that the Smashing Pumpkins box set is more critical to my well-being.
So we ended up buying the toy for him and none for me. Sucks.
Press his pillow corner and he only speaks a total of three illiterate sayings!
Fuckass, who wouldn't want a dog sleeping on their forehead and covering their pores for eight hours? Because pillows don't get pimples, shithead.
I guess pillows speak english. So the next time you have sex, watch out for what you say because your bed linens know all.
I'd fucking kill to have all those toys.
Christina N. @ 5:27 PM
