Friday, January 19
What a shitty week, man. I think it's time to go shopping again.

Why are my school's standards so high? When the students are dumber than a 13-year-old Cradle of Filth fan? The school ranked about second to last or something in New Jersey's list of highest SAT score rate. (It's some sort of generic, lameass but supposedly important list.) How fucking depressing is that? The school on the bottom of the list was Dover or something. Not to be a fucking bigot, but facts indicate that the extremely large hispanic population in that school does not care at all to take the SAT nor go to college, and that is counted as a 0/2400; therefore all of the 0's add up. My school's hispanic population is a bit smaller, therefore our score is a bit higher. Not that I really care; their business is their business. I just want the standards lowered because I have enough shit stuck up my rectum.

So my job didn't need me to come in for my on-call today. So I watched my Faith No More DVDs again because that's what I do. Nobody else is worthy. Except for Peeping Tom.

Peeping Tom is going to be touring in the US again this year and are coming to New York City at Irving Plaza on April 9th. Motherfucker, I am going to be there if it costs my fucking left tit. Okay, maybe my flat-screen television, but you get the idea. I would probably be allowed to go, but the only problem is that I have no one to come with me. Or more accurately, to take me. My folks could, but that's fucking lame. I can't enjoy such entities as Mike Patton and Rahzel with my ultra-conservative parents standing next to me.

Natalia would definitely 100% go with me, but she's gone. That just totally ripped apart my insides when I heard about what happened to her. And for so fucking long, too. As for my other cronies? Nobody gives a fuck. But I am telling you, you have no idea what the fuck you're going to be missing. Trust me on this. You have no idea who the fuck you're fucking over.

I really need someone to go see Peeping Tom with me. I don't care if you're a fucking stranger. As long as you don't smell like curdled milk or want to inject that curdled milk up my ass, then you're A-okay with me. April 9th at Irving Plaza. Many months away. Many months to clear out your schedule. 45 goddamn minutes from where I live. Come on, I'll even pay for your fucking ticket. I'll even promise not to drink. (I fucking swear! Not really.) This shit is really important to me. But taking a look at my popularity in this area, by the time April 8th comes around, my only loyal friend as of then will be my cherished $300 leather handbag. Because it doesn't have legs, nor eyes, nor a fucking mouth to cuss me off. It's just one day. I'm fucking positive the music will not let you down. Come on, kids. Do it for my people back in Vietnam. They don't want to hear that a virtuous and lucky one such as I is severely heartbroken and on the brink of death.

So who wants to go???

Go here if you are a part of the uneducated.


Christina N. @ 6:53 PM