I'm going to film a documentary on paranormal activity and weird/creepy shit in New Jersey; our thesis is to prove whether these urban legends are bullshit or not. It's for computer art class, and this is what I chose my movie to be about because I don't want to fucking act nor make a shitty boring piece of crap that takes place in the school. No way in hell would I want to keep even more memories of that godforsaken place. So, me and my partner agreed to make a movie outside of school grounds.
To cut things short, on Monday at around 5:00, Natalia and I are supposed to drive down Whipporwhill Valley Road, possibly with Katie. Supposedly, the KKK patrol the area on horseback, people have been murdered there, etc. etc. A narrow, unlit road, the typical crap. Fucking perfect for my film.
Christina N. @ 2:47 AM
Monday, October 23
I'm sorry dudes, but it's time for me to complain. We all do this every once in a while. Go on Myspace or Youtube or Facebook or The Onion or some other utterly lame time-consuming website like those if you please. I am forewarning you.
Oh yeah and The Onion isn't shit. It's pretty alright in my book, actually. I just couldn't think of anything to say.
Today was an absolute waste, which I really shouldn't say; because at this age and point in my life I shouldn't be wasting even a goddamn second of it - primarily because this is the point where I'm supposed to be pretty much setting down the foundation for most, if not all, of my time left here. Youths are fucking close-minded and stubborn - it is very true. Many of our elders just basically refer to it as being dumb, but that's just what it looks like on the bare surface. I guess they're pretty close-minded too. Oh man when the fuck did I start sounding like that Charlie kid from Perks of Being a Wallflower?
To get an idea of how I spend my time in eight agonizing hours of school for about 80% of my week, sometimes alone or with an accomplice, at the beginning of gym class we run for the woods while the teacher isn't looking.
So I get another call at 7:25 in the morning from Lauren telling me to come to school. Telling me to make my mom drive me to the parking lot, get out, and then get into Lauren's parked car to unwillingly hang out with her for fifteen minutes before school starts. She does this to me every morning. It's either my mom take me, or I have to walk in the bitterly cold, frosty morning weather to her fucking car at school because she won't pick me up. Why won't she pick me up? To get a good parking spot, that's why.
Why the hell call and make someone come to school so early? People who are just too much of a wuss to do things independently really piss me off. It's a complete sign of weakness. When I sense weakness in a person, it fucking drives me off the wall. She can't stand hanging around by herself. Looks like someone needs a self confidence check.
I'm fucking sick of it, because I can't wake up in the morning and do my routine according to my own schedule. I can't prepare myself for the day according to the way that works best for me. So I'm pretty much mentally unprepared every goddamn day that I go to school. (I swear, at some point or other this year I'm going to start a brawl and smash someone's fucking head to glass-like shards with a brown metal folding chair.) She always calls me while I'm either changing or doing my makeup, saying that she's at school already. She doesn't even ask me when I'm going to arrive, or if I am. Just stating that she's there means that I have to haul my ass over there ASAP. Talk about selfishness.
I know that when you're friends with somebody, you're all but obligated to be there when they need you. Each person has to care about the other. But to be honest, lately I have not been giving a flying fuck about her anymore. I'm getting nothing out of this relationship. I don't even have opinions here. She doesn't even listen to my stories or struggles in life, nor does she offer advice whenever I do get the chance [between her pointless and incessant ramblings about her crushes on teachers] to tell her something about my life. It's all a one-way friendship. I never care anymore, mainly because I know she'll always be okay no matter what. I'm pretty much done with this mutual cooperation.
For example, once my mom drops me off (in front of Lauren's fucking car!), and we're both hanging out in her car, while she plays music on her iPod that's connected via adapter to the car's stereo system. Whenever I literally say, "Lauren, this song is fucking terrible." She ignores my statement and still continues to play it. Or when she's shuffling through her collection, and I hear a tune that I like, and say that I like it, she keeps on flipping through, completely disregarding my comment - to only stop at a song that I yet again say, "[Bon Jovi] is fucking lame."
I don't even have a say in what music we listen to together. Is my taste in music that bad? Not that I have a pitchfork up my ass, but I think that my taste in music is rather exceptional. To Lauren, my taste in music or pretty much anything else media-wise is obsolete. She never regards anything of my interest, and even once proceeded to insult Mike Patton at one point (not that my life revolves around the musical genius that he is, ha!) - While I have to support her music taste or any of her other interests for the sake of being a good friend and the fact that I respect and care(d) about her. Jesus fucking Christ.
In conclusion, being friends with her is taking such a toll out of me because I have to wake up even earlier (in addition to my already significant lack of sleep) and take so much out of my own personal time (which there isn't much anymore due to family matters, schoolwork, and work in general) to meet her deadlines. I'm getting nothing out of this, I never care about our (also known as her) conversational subjects, and whenever we're talking, it's just her rambling to me about her $200 shopping spree every weekend at Old Navy or Bloomingdale's or Diesel. Or about her other rich friend who buys her designer merchandise. Do you think I give a flying fuck about what you buy? I get six hours of sleep every night, go to school twice as much as you do, clean my house, and go to goddamn work just to at least purchase a new sweater every few weeks or so, and now you're here talking about your indulgences, not even expecting feedback from the person whom you're supposedly having a conversation with? Puh-lease.
We've been friends ever since eighth grade and at this point, I'm about to fucking implode. But the thing is, I'm not sure how to tell her that I can't fucking wake up a half hour earlier every morning to just sit in her fucking car and listen to her crappy music and her crappy stories. To be honest, I seriously don't have a single person at all whom I could freely talk to. All the worthwhile folks are either gone, or moved on with their own lives. I'm the motherfucker who was born on the wrong year and is the only one left in high school. Everyone who I'm talking to as of current on a daily basis just makes me listen to their constant, meaningless-in-the-longrun bullshit. They're not really my friends, you could say. I'm just the fucker who stands around, listening to their selfish stories about love affairs and making big purchases with their rich family's money.
I heard this from an all-too-overly-popular comedian that instead of playing Survivor or Big Brother on TV, let's play "Struggling Through Life." Welcome to the real fucking world. The world where your parents don't pay for everything and you have to support yourself, and those that are close to you. Not that I fully and individually support myself yet, but I still have to pay for everything besides food and shelter. Those two things alone, are very hard to hold up. Lauren likes to talk about how she spends her work money on clothes and pathetic autographed Friends memorabilia on eBay. My work money slips through my fingers like water because I have to constantly pay my family back for the money that I borrowed. Yes, I know that I get about $250-$300+ checks from work nowadays, but most of it goes in the bank. I figured that while my house and food, etc. are being paid off right now by my parents, it would be best if I saved up for when they're not around for me anymore.
Tonight is Astronomy Night at the top of the football field at school, and it's only an exclusive hangout time with the awesome Dr. Smock for our astronomy class every few weeks or so, and we could invite anyone we want. Lauren said she'd take me, but also invited this other chick named Helen. I haven't enjoyed being around Helen since eighth grade. Why? because ever since eighth fucking grade, she hasn't fucking changed at all. It's like talking to a goddamn pubescent girl that's my sister's age. In technical terms, she (and many times Lauren too) is just not advanced enough for me; as selfish as that sounds. We don't get along anymore. Did I have any consent that Lauren could invite Helen? No. But then again, she's the one providing the transportation. Helen is pretty fucking dumb too (in addition to what I'd just said), because since she goes to another school, after meeting me a couple of times after eighth grade, I was never really warm to her in the first place. Hasn't she gotten the message already? Man, I've even ditched her and Lauren once to go drinking. But that led me to getting arrested. Silly me.
Christina N. @ 5:35 PM
Thursday, October 19
Hey guys, I was alone in the bathroom at school today fixing up in front of the mirror, until I hear a girl come in and go into one of the stalls. I heard noises that weren't exactly defecation, but something definitely was being purged into the toilet for what lasted for a couple of minutes. She was gagging or some shit, I assume. It was not until she flushed the toilet, opened the stall door, walked straight to the sink and started washing her face and rinsing out her mouth that I figured she was purposely vomiting. Out of respect for other people, I never stare. But this time I couldn't help it and snuck a glance at who this chick could be. She looked back at me with almost teary eyes, from the straining of trying to hurl. And then within a fraction of a second, she sped out of the bathroom. Eating disorders. Fucking gross.
You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. It is not until you actually see another person doing it within seeing and hearing range - right in front of you, that you really see how disgusting it is.
But then again, I'm a complete food maniac. Bias is inevitable in my craving mind; but putting that aside, I can't help but grimace at such an unnatural thing to do. Shut the fuck up, animals do it to protect themselves from those that are higher on the food chain or to feed their young some mashed up food. We humans do it for vanity. No wait, I just contradicted myself right there. Forget about what I just said about unnaturality - it's human nature to want to look great and I guess committing any means to achieve one's view on what is this so-called "beauty" is only natural. Whatevs. Just don't be a fucking prick about it to me. "This bag of Cheerios is my breakfast and my lunch and I'm not going to eat dinner until 8 o'clock tonight. OMG! HAHAHA!" Shut the fuck up and go take a cyanide tablet.
Christina N. @ 9:28 PM
Wednesday, October 18
We got an opportunity to come to school at 11AM today, so Lauren and I went to Panera Bread for breakfast. It was good times, my friend.
After spending $7 on a goddamn sandwich and $2 for the goddamn lemonade, it was off to Target (which was pretty much right next door) to waste some time.
If you haven't noticed already, I've been very negligent when it comes to writing in this thing. So I'll just cut to the chase for keeping records' sake.
It doesn't get any better than Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and orange juice
Every single person, whether they've known me for just minutes or for years, has seen me stuff my motherfucking face.
And I enjoy it every single time.
She's got a mighty big rattler!
This is what Ted Nugent fanatics look like, next to Ted Nugent himself.
This is what I did to your dog.
Trying to remember which one came out of my vagina
Fraggle Rock is still relevant in 2006?!?!
Scariest fucking toys, man. They were called the Only Hearts Club. Lonely Hearts Club Band? I think they served the Beatles right, by naming such a shitty toy after them.
Kiss my ass, motherfucker. Make fun of Faith No More, I don't give a flying shit.
The End
Christina N. @ 7:31 PM
Sunday, October 15
I have made an important life decision: I am to one day purchase a monster truck. Fuck the Ugg boots; Fuck the stick-on bling for my Nokia brick phone - When I get a monster truck with 4-foot diameter spiked wheels, you don't crash into ME, I crash into YOU. You don't collide into me and fuck up my car, fucker. No no no, I run over you, your car, and your shitty driving skills that made me angry in the first place. You're the one who gets dirt gritted into their teeth.
Mama's going to be angry when she finds out that I almost emptied the entire value pack box of Rice Krispies Treats. Eat this, bitch. I am still bound to such childish rules like that, which make me feel so constricted and almost "not allowed" to expand psychologically. You men out there, never marry an asian woman (except for me because I pulled a John Locke and got "enlightened"), for she will fuck up your children. Ever go to a nail salon? That's exactly how they really are.
Christina N. @ 10:16 PM
Wednesday, October 11
Anyone remember that Levi's commercial where the guy grinds, sands, irons and totally fucks up his jeans to give them to the girl? Well if you do, remember that catchy song? You know, "Easy?" It wasn't performed by Lionel Ritchie this time, but by Faith No More. It's an alright song, the guy is hot shit, but when it's on that commercial, it annoys me to the point of driving me up the fucking wall.
There's currently a commercial on rotation, I advertising what capitalistic piece of crap it is this time, but it is a terrible, terrible, cover of "In a Big Country." By a band called Big Country. I also heard somewhere that the song was covered by Dashboard Confessional. If I were Big Country, I'd want to stab myself in the chest with a goddamn jigsaw right at this moment. I see this commercial every morning; it is an omen for a very bad day.
We have all had (or are still having, perhaps for the rest of our lives) our encounters with stupid people, but it's the ones who just won't stop bothering you that are among some of the worst. Somebody fucking invited me to a Facebook group called "Sally is cooler than your mom."
Okay, if you're going to be cooler than anyone, saying that you're cooler than my mom is a fucking given. Anything is cooler than my fascist, totalitarian, dictarorial mother. But then again, even my mom is greater than Sally. I'd like to tell Sally to go eat shit.
I hope she doesn't start calling me again anytime soon. Thank god she stopped. I feel sorry for Steve, though. He told me she has conversations with his away message online. [self-explanatory]
My last day at Pier 1 Imports couldn't have been more of a tumor in the ass. Three angry customers; as a matter of fact, that last week alone at Pier 1 was the only week where I met troublesome customers. Very odd and peculiar. An omen? A Christina that just doesn't give a fuck anymore? You choose the answer.
But, I made up for the lameness that ensued by stealing an organizer for myself. Good deal.
My first day at Banana Republic is actually going to be this Saturday, not Sunday. Some chick named Monica called and asked if I could work. Sure. Who doesn't need money? Oh I know, the kids who are voted "Best Dressed" in school. Ha!
Isn't it aggravating when someone is practically demanding you to hang out with them? No, not Sally this time. I told this person that I can't, many times, and for this time I have a pretty good reason - one that if unfollowed, may result in my own fatal decapitation by hands other than my own. In other words, I cannot go to this person's house on Friday to watch horror movies because if I don't stay home and rest and study for the SATs on Saturday, my mom will take matters into her own hands. No pun intended.
Get a fucking clue. More importantly, get some friends other than me. I know I'm flexible, but there's times when I simply cannot do certain things because of timing. Suck it up. Go find someone else to be your bitch.
Sure, it's nice to see people wanting to be within your presence, but when they step over the line and enter the realm of stupidity, self-esteem issues and denial of self-being, well then I want to do nothing but kick you in the fucking baby maker. Much like this video where Mike Patton throws stupid people off the stage, grabs a fucktard, humps him, shoves the mic down his throat and later starts a fight with the same guy who still proceeds to climb back onto the stage. I get such a laugh out of that every time.
Lame lame lame comparison, I know. But a video like that has to be stuck in there somewhere.
Christina N. @ 8:15 PM
Saturday, October 7
So I have one more day at Pier 1 Imports. Thaaaank fucking god for that, my friend. I don't know whether it's because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today or that people are really that fucking stupid, but every customer that asked me for help at work on this fair Saturday in October was a fucking retard. No, actually I probably awoke this morning on the brightest goddamn Mercurian side of the bed and people really are that shitheaded.
I was carrying a rocking chair (yes, a lame ass rocking chair) for a customer, following her out towards the door to bring it to her car. Then this other woman from behind interrupts me, and asks to know the height of a certain table. Woman, can you see what the fuck I am doing? I'm helping a another customer, while carrying a heavy piece of furniture for them - Shut the flying fuck up and un-tie that knot in your panties.
And then there's the people who ask for your opinion on candlescapes or kitchenware themes or living room pillow themes - matching colors and shapes and items and shit. But they take so fucking long to make a decision, so you have to stick around them for about twenty minutes, watching them rub their chin and making no progress whatsoever. (It makes me think that my old days of sitting in front of the computer for eight hours a day visiting the same five websites over and over was more enchanting.) They keep asking you questions, and they always say that your answers are right, but then they say that they're not sure if it would work in their house. Then don't ask for my fucking opinion if it doesn't matter and let me go; because they always end up getting something entirely different from what my advice was.
Maybe I'm just too excited to get to Banana Republic. There, I don't think I have to go around bothering people. Purchasing clothes doesn't require to have your own bitch. This is the only situation where folks being insecure about their bodies comes in handy - because they're too afraid to ask anyone or have anyone pay attention to their nastyass gourd-shaped figure. Thank fucking god.
After exchanging numbers and hugging goodbye to John, I went to the car to go shopping or wherever next with my mom. I asked if I could get something to eat and then ensued a fifteen-minute pointless argument about how she won't let me eat mexican food at Qdoba but would let me eat unhealthier shit at McDonald's because it doesn't have a weird smell or any "unhealthy" spices that would "inflame my skin." It's nothing but her bias against food that she doesn't like. It was fucking dumb, I won't elaborate on it anymore.
I ended up eating creamy pesto pasta or some shit at the Roxbury Diner that filled me up like a fucking puffer fish. Then we went to Macy's at the Ledgewood Mall, and eventually to Wal-Mart at night. Dude, I ate so much at that goddamn diner that I had to shit twice during that entire time. Not cool, man. While at Wal-Mart I started to get cranky because my mom kept going apeshit about how I should only buy makeup by the brands of which she has coupons for, even though they suck Winger balls, and the fact that I felt like having an iron zeppelin drop out of my asshole. Jesus Christ, motherfucker.
Christina N. @ 9:59 PM
Wednesday, October 4
I have quite the massive food addiction. When I go broke after getting paid just a week before, having spent the majority of the money on food - I know I have quite a problem. It is the money and food from home in addition to the shit that I buy from food/beverage franchises, and more shit at school. Every time that I go over to somebody else's house, after five minutes of mingling and catching up on things, my natural(?) thing to do is to raid their fucking kitchen like I'm searching for bags of opium under the tiles. Fucking food, man. It's fucking amazing.
That's probably why every time Lauren invites me over, she tells her mom and they both prepare for my visit by stocking up on brownies and making dinner just before I arrive. It's like feeding the fucking Godfather when I come around. The only person that complains is my mom; because I fucking despise plants and I consume all types of red juicy meat and white shimmering sugar. Quite frankly she needs to shut the fuck up most of the time because stuffing my mouth is pretty much my most favorite thing to do in the entire world, man. This girl right here seriously has no other hobbies; and clearly no life.
Today has been quite progressive. Finished my homework just minutes before each class started, and for two blocks straight just sat my motherfucking ass in front of a computer and watched Faith No More videos on Youtube for the entire time. Even when when I got home. No, that is not fucking cool at all. As a matter of fact, it is a very sad existance for a human being and I do not recommend it to anybody.
Perhaps the funniest music video I have ever laid eyes on.
Christina N. @ 7:24 PM
Tuesday, October 3
I am trying desperately, grabbing onto my dear life - to resist from eating a Rice Krispies Treat. Because after you eat one, within three minutes that one Rice Krispies Treat will have now become four; and so on. They fucking put crack in those things, I swear.
So I was watching the news recently while getting ready to leave the house in the morning, when this dumbest of the fucking dumbest news stories came on the air on CBS Morning News. I know the war is no funny issue or something to take lightly, but they have come up with a semi-therapeutic replacement for the men who are overseas. What is this replacement? A cut-out cardboard replica of the man.
That's right - families all across the country are carrying around cardboard cut-outs of their husbands and fathers; to baseball games, to the Olive Garden, to the DMV - you name it. They call these cardboard cut-outs "Flat Daddies." He even sits at the dinner table and watches TV with his non-cardboard children.
Now it is absolutely prominent in natural behavior that when a loved one is gone and at another faraway place, you miss them. That is absolutely true. But, you need not be a fucking pussy and resort to such immature and thoughtless things, because what that distant person really wants to see from you is to be strong - not fucking cry your balls off until you get so dehydrated that your epidermal pores start to contract and shrivel up like a paper bag.
What is even sadder is that the families even talk to and touch the cardboard like it is actual human flesh and has an actual human brain made of cells and tissue. Talk about close-mindedness and the inability to accept the fact that things are the way they are. Why not shut the fuck up and do something to improve the current situation? Or simply to just, stop moping and groaning and move on with your life - do something progressive and useful for fuck's sake. That is the greatest indication of growth and maturity in a person.
Besides the shallow fact that you look stupid, it's the fact that you are showcasing your complete and utter weakness to the entire world as you carry that colored cut-out piece of refridgerator box in the shape of a human being with you to Starbucks. Carrying that piece of shit around with you in public is just telling me that you can't get over the fact that life sucks, and that you can't deal with your problems. Or that you can sort of deal with your problems in a pussy way, but gradually and more slowly than need be - that is still fucking weakness right there - the closed mind that cannot get over the reality.
Any means of imitation or copying of anything at all, is a sign of weakness. Why do young people look up so high at celebrities? Why do we copy our favorite actor or musician's style, personality, etc.? Why do we try to fit in with the crowd and find the clique in where we "belong?" It's because we are fucking weak on the inside, and can't find our rightful niche in the world. That is fucking why.
Christina N. @ 7:33 PM
Monday, October 2
I don't get it. What kind of a fucking homework assignment makes you choose from one of the different forms of the Protestant Reformation and explain it in one drawing - non-comically. Shithead, you know my specialty is bitchin' cartoons. My problem is, I can't draw in a serious tone worth a shit. I see a big giant F! in my future.
So today I drove to my cousin's house, ate breakfast and cake, and then to Shop Rite to buy some chocolatey chip Teddy Grahams. Oh my god, that made my day. Teddy Grahams, man. Teddy Grahams. Those and Dunkaroos are the two greatest bread snacks ever to be invented on the face of this motherfucking planet.
You kids have got to pour those Teddy Grahams in a bowl, and douse them in milk. Then eat them bears with a spoon, like cereal. It is quite the exquisitely delicious sexalicious mouth-watering experience. A bit messy and the bears look like oatmeal, but it tastes like no other.
Yesterday was quite the awesome day. Went to Taco Bell at night with Eric and Jeremy, which was some damn gooooood times. In the car driving away from Taco Bell, Jeremy ran over a possum on the road. I could totally see a $2000-budget horror flick deriving from this situation, involving a ginormous Chupacabra-like possum in the Rockaway area taunting innocent young individuals such as we are, who happened to kill one of its children after an unsuspected night of mexican fast food.
Eric and his silly self
Jeremy relishing in all his glory
Stole a couple hundred hot sauce packages too.
I would just like to point out that Grey's Anatomy scares the hell out of me. Geraldine tried to get me into it and made me watch an episode; and the cheesy, totally staged sexual antics is just fucking lame in my book. Maybe I'm just confused. But for now, I know that that show is nothing that I could ever get into. I'd rather stick with my television boycott. There is seriously nothing ever, ever to watch anymore at times when I'm not busy with crap. Excuse me for incessantly rambling about lame shit, but it totally beats doing schoolwork about Lutheranism and Anabaptists. You know me and my issues with religion. Branding my ass with a Jesus fish is no way to go.
Christina N. @ 9:50 PM
