Rules: Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following...They MUST be real places, names, things...NOTHING made up! If you can't think of anything, skip it. Try to use different answers if the person in front of you had the same 1st initial. You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl name question.
Your Name: Christina
1. Famous Artist/Musician: Caith No More
2. 4 letter word: Cill
3. Street name: Cain Street
4. Color: cunt pink
5. Gifts/presents: coney
6. Vehicles: Charger
7. College or University: Cutgers
8. TV Show: CSI-suck
9. Country: Czechoslovakia
10. Things in a Souvenir Shop: crystals that are overpriced
11. Boy Name: Corey Feldman
12. Girl Name: Christine, the car
13. Movie Title: Creamy Girls
14. Alcoholic drink: caipirinha
15. Occupations: cop
16. Flowers: chrysanthemum
17. Celebrities: Charo
18. Magazines: Cosmo
19. U.S. Cities: Columbus, Ohio
20. Food: cat
21. Something Found in a kitchen: cream of mushroom
22. Reason for Being Late: Can't arrive on time because I don't want to.
23. Something You Throw Away: crust from my eye
24. Cartoon Character: Captain Planet
25. Something You Shout: CUT OFF HIS BALLS!
Christina N. @ 9:47 PM
Dude, today totally sucked. I wake up and you know how when the TV gets staticky? That's what I saw. It didn't go away. So I told my mom to call the doctor so that I could go see him as soon as possible. As soon as possible according to the business world means tomorrow. My vision has really been worrying me, because I've always held the record for watching the most TV and going on the computer the most, yet still have perfect 20/20 vision. Recently something's been wrong. My sight isn't so much blurry as it is speckly. I think it might be really serious, and I have no idea what the fuck is wrong. Hopefully I'm overreacting. Doubt it though.
My biggest fear is that I am developing diabetic retinopathy. That means I'm a diabetic. I fucking hope that I am not. THAT MEANS NO MORE PIGGING OUT!!! It doesn't really make sense that I could be one, because I have absolutely no family history, am not a fat fuck, and don't eat that completely bad of a diet. The only other eye disease that could make sense is glaucoma. I would much rather have that. Cataracts just mainly affects old people. It's either those aforementioned things, or that I got some kind of insane infection that spread to my eyes, or that I got some kind of poison such as aerosol sprays or shit in my eyes. Maybe it's from touching the nastyass door handles in the bathrooms at school and uknowingly touched my eyes afterward. Just kidding. Sheesh.
Then I find out that the group of cronies of whom I stick around with the most are all going out to eat next week, and didn't invite me. I was sitting in Animal Behavior (which is, you know, the most difficult and strenuous of all academic subjects), while talking to one of them about how we don't have to go to school until 11:00AM all next week. So, being the food maniac that I am, say that we should do breakfast. She says, "Oh, I already am." I say, "With who?" Basically she said with everybody else. And I mean, everybody else.
Her excuse was the dumbest fucking bullshit I had ever heard besides the second Faith No More album with Chuck Mosley. She said that I wouldn't fit in the car.
I wasn't about to take any shit, because clearly a lot had been dumped on me already. So I started speaking more loudly and made sort of a fiasco like many people do. Why do me and many other people do that? To get sympathy from other people, and get to use the word "fuck" as many times as I want, because I then had a legitimate reason to. My response basically went like this:
"What the fuck? Why the fuck would you and everybody else in the goddamn world go out to eat and not even invite the person who likes to eat the most? And what do you mean I wouldn't be able to fit in the car? Do I fucking look fat to you? What the flying fuck? That's fucking ridiculous." - my face basically looking like this the entire time as I was expressing my anger. Sorry, I just HAD to slip in a Mike Patton right there. He is too important not to include in your daily life.
She shrugged it off, it being my typical response to everything that pisses me off. She then invited me and I got excited. But later on in the day, I realized that I shouldn't go. If they didn't want me there in the first place, then I shouldn't be ruining their party. I don't need her fucking pity. As much as I love sandwiches and paninis and souffles and brownies and bagels and hot chocolate, not taking shit and being considered as the "inferior party" is more important. I guess I'll just make another date with my cereal box and Faith No More DVDs while getting totally hammered with insults and other degrading scoldings from my mom yelling at me from in the kitchen.
That last sentence was sad, right? Well I wasn't really being serious. You should know that. Or was I?
I mean, it's okay if like a small portion of the group went and did their own thing because it's their own personal matter and I wouldn't give a shit, but when the entire goddamn posse does shit without inviting me for some lameass reason and backing it up with sourpuss excuses and letting me know about it, that's basically degrading me. Jesus fucking Christ.
Knowing this incident, there have probably been numerous other times that I have been purposely excluded from. Can't fucking trust anyone. No one gets between me and Panera Bread's sandwiches. No one. But maybe I really am a dickwad. Well, then don't fucking be my friend and tell me that you care. The president lies to me enough and it directly affects my life, I don't need your petty little fibs that don't really have to be fibs - just tell me that I need anger management and psychiatric help, whether it's for being an angry motherfucker or that I need to slow down on the musical obsessions or if I eat too much and empty your kitchen too often. Dickwad or not - I don't fucking care. What I do care about is, is when people fucking lie to me. I may be a dickwad, but not a lying dickwad. Ha!
God, that was the most pathetic paragraph ever.
Then two of the folks who are in the posse took too long to meet me at lunch, and what they didn't tell me or what I didn't know was if they were cutting school again or not. But whatever it was they were doing, I was really fed up with waiting and being by myself for like twenty fucking minutes, and left. Fuck them, man. At this point, everyone better be planning some sort of a surprise party for me.
Shaina hasn't called me at all last week, nor did she return my call on Sunday. What the fuck is going on? It's either she's really busy, is having too much of a grand ol' awesome time, or is fed up with me and doesn't want to talk to me anymore. At least just make one last phone call to me to tell me that I should basically take my Peeping Tom CD, shove it up my ass and open it. I really miss talking to that chica.
Of course you know what the Peeping Tom packaging is like. You pull a tab and the CD comes out on the other end. It's like a cash register.
And then during dinner, I almost choked on a fishbone. As funny as that fucking is, it probably happened because I couldn't see the goddamn bone like I normally would be able to. Fuck this, man.
Christina N. @ 8:09 PM
Tuesday, February 27
Here is a 100%, true-to-god, cross my heart truthful album review as an assignment for my pop music class.
N'SYNC
No Strings Attached
TRACKS
1. Bye Bye Bye
2. It’s Gonna Be Me
3. Space Cowboy (Yippie-Yi-Yay)
4. Just Got Paid
5. It Makes Me Ill
6. This I Promise You
7. No Strings Attached
8. Digital Get Down
9. Bringin’ Da Noise
10. That’s When I’ll Stop Loving You
11. I’ll Be Good For You
12. I Thought She Knew
BAND MEMBERS
Justin Timberlake
Joey Fatone
Chris Kirkpatrick
Lance Bass
JC Chasez
GUEST MUSICIANS
Lisa “Left-Eye” Lopes
PRODUCER
Richard Marx
RECORD COMPANY
Jive Records
N’Sync is a pop boyband consisting of male heart throbs Justin Timberlake, Chris Kirkpatrick, JC Chasez, Joey Fatone, and Lance Bass. No Strings Attached is their sophomore release, following their self-titled N’Sync. Produced by Richard Marx, No Strings Attached also includes Lisa “Left-Eye” Lopes of the highly respectable R&B trio, TLC, on the track entitled “Space Cowboy (Yippie-Yi-Yay).” The album’s eclectic mix of hip hop beats, innocent tender vocals, and catchy lyrics make it a vocal utopia for the ear drums; deserving a 9.5 out of ten stars.
The standout chart-topping hit, “Bye Bye Bye” is not only #1 on the Billboard charts, but is also the first track on the album. It is an exhilaratingly perfect starter for the remaining eleven that all seemingly parallel the quality of the initial track, and even reached #25 on the Adult Contemporary chart. The next single released by the band, “It’s Gonna Be Me,” was played just as often on the radio as “Bye Bye Bye” was, but was not as catchy or signature as the latter – yet N’Sync continued to dominate the world of popular music.
Some very quality and blissful tracks that weren’t as promoted by the media, were “Space Cowboy (Yippie-Yi-Yay)” and “This I Promise You.” “Space Cowboy” had the most unique mixture of pop and hip hop beats, added with very delightfully synchronized vocals by all five band members, along with guest musician Lisa “Left-Eye” Lopes’ fine contribution to the lyrics and performance of the song. On the other side of the spectrum, “This I Promise You” is a heart-filled serenade to all potential female friends of the band that is so well sung in beautiful harmony, that it may as well be very believable.
No Strings Attached is a must for all music junkies. Whether you are a fan of Phil Collins, Queen, Celine Dion, or Meatloaf, N’Sync will certainly not fail to entertain you. The vocal styling of premiere frontman Justin Timberlake could be compared to the melodious pleasure of angels crying. Production and sound quality were also remarkably well done, so impressive that Frank Zappa should be knocking on the door of Jive Records and demand a collaboration on his next album. What I would personally like to see is a collaboration between this band and Mike Patton, former singer for experimental and avant-garde bands such as Mr. Bungle and Faith No More. N’Sync, together with Patton’s renowned ability to mix and intermingle with different electronic instruments and sounds will produce a record so intense, that Cream’s Wheels of Fire. will be looked at for a second time upon determining which will be the dominating force.
Tracks such as “Digital Get Down,” “It Makes Me Ill,” and “Bringin’ da Noise” have such creative and uniquely pioneering synthesizer, sampler, and electronic techniques, that one would not be surprised to see this band releasing a deeper, more in-depth record, perhaps their most dynamic album to date in the near future. Vocal talents from all five members, distinctly Joey Fatone and JC Chasez, added with Chris Kirkpatrick’s short experimenting with beatboxing will undoubtedly someday produce N’Sync’s most talented album to date. The band’s true talents shine like twinkling starts in the sky with the a capella track, “I Thought She Knew,” which ends out the album with a blast.
No Strings Attached is recommended for everybody who has ears and is capable of comprehending the difference between music and bowel movements. Appreciators will range from 6-year-olds getting their first taste in the world of popular music, teenagers trying to find their “true self” in life, adults preparing for their midlife crisis, to even senior citizens who need something to do between reading Nancy Drew books for the 26th time in their life. Boys and girls alike will enjoy this record, whether they are blasting it from their car or hiding in the closet, shameful of admitting their adoration for N’Sync. As far as me and the majority of the world’s population is concerned, this album is appropriate for all worthy beings that appreciate what goodhearted, soulful, fun music is all about.
Christina N. @ 10:13 PM
Sunday, February 25
These past few weeks I have been stuck in a rut. What is my favorite song? I know I don't need one, but I'd finally stopped congesting my head with everything Faith No More, and have been sampling a lot of shit from my music collection - quite a few songs stuck out. And yes, "Cherry Pie" by Warrant is getting boring. "Whip It" by Devo is over. I set that song as my alarm for a while, and trust me, I wanted to fucking bust some caps every time my alarm rang. These songs have very good potential to make it very far on my list of preferences. I highly recommend them, not that anyone would take the time to listen to any of it. Admit it, whenever you, me, or any other fucktard on this planet tries to promote or shove music down somebody else's throat, they don't fucking care. Nor do you care when somebody does that to you.
"Jesus Christ Pose" - Soundgarden
This song just kicks ass. The End.
"Last" - Nine Inch Nails
Ouch!
"Epic" - Faith No More
The concept of this song will never get boring. I laugh my ass off whenever I really think about it.
"Say Hello to Heaven" - Temple of the Dog
Chris Cornell. What more is there to say?
"Under Pressure" - Queen & David Bowie
This is like mixing all of the brownies and nachos in the world together to make one mondo meal.
"Five Seconds" - Peeping Tom
This song is just perfect from beginning to end. Imagine snorting crack up your nose with a 3-inch-wide PVC pipe.
"Heartbreaker" - Led Zeppelin
Gnarliest guitar licks of the gnarliest guitar licks.
"Love Roller Coaster" - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Funky. Beavis & Butt-Head.
"Black Rose" - Thin Lizzy
Very epic. Nothing like the Faith No More song.
"Godzilla" - Blue Oyster Cult
I would like to crush the fucking japs too.
"The Air-Conditioned Nightmare" - Mr. Bungle
One of the most amazing tunes that have ever fucked my ears. Mr. Bungle mixes genres better than Starbucks mixes their drinks.
"My Ass is on Fire" - Mr. Bungle
self-explanatory
You're probably wondering why the list is so empty. I don't give a flying fuck. Pay me and I'll make up a better one. You know what? I'm tired of Led Zeppelin.
Christina N. @ 3:17 PM
Saturday, February 24
I actually kind of want to be at work today, because I'm just going to sit in front of this goddamn electrical computing device for another eight or nine hours. Plus, I need money to purchase Mr. Bungle-related things.
This morning I had to wake up early to help my mom make eggrolls for some Vietnamese New Year ceremonial thing. You have to set up a table with food and dishes and all in front of an altar for your deceased ancestors, light incense, and pray to your ancestors for good luck. How asian is that? My entire family and I had to sit in front of the altar and incense, one by one, saying prayers.
Well, you guys know me. I don't believe in anything in terms of religion. Being forced to pray just makes things worse. Praying ain't my thing, because who the fuck am I talking to? I don't talk to anyone unless they are alive and standing right in front of me or over the phone - in the fucking flesh. I don't talk to Elvis and Jim Morrison. So my prayers weren't so concentrated because I had to concentrate on bending down with my hands together six times; if you have to count six times, how do you find the time to say your actual prayers? That's what gets me. Added to the fact that my dad is standing behind me and watching my every move doesn't help either. So I probably ended up praying for numbers.
When I was done, I couldn't help but laugh and try to suppress it. Hopefully my dad didn't see my funny face after I finished, for I know I was being pretty downright disrespectful to him and my ancestors. I'm going to hell for this. But maybe not, because I don't believe in anything. Your life sucks because you made it that way, kapeesh?
Jeannie stopped by my house today and dropped off my new CD. You know what it is? Do you really want to know? Do you? Do you? Click here!
Did it surprise you that it has absolutely nothing to do with Mike Patton? I think that is almost heart attack-worthy.
Yes, I admit that I fucking loooove Justin Timberlake. A number of the songs were really good, and the rest were a terrible mindfuck. But I have to give props to JT's good looks and the awesome book. That's it.
Want to know what a good album is? I'll show you.
Christina N. @ 2:09 PM
Friday, February 23
Fucking asshole, I have school on Monday. It feels as though my life has just compressed 35 more miles, added on top of my family's 68. Probably the most degrading person in my life is my mother, because she thinks that I am literally fucking stupid, and whenever I show signs of being too radical or "crazy" or "weird," she has to beat me down like a fucking piece of cow sirloin being smashed by a meat hammer. There is no worse feeling than not being allowed to grow.
But onto things that don't piss me off - clementines are good. Have you ever wondered if a really fat person poops out turds the size of clementines?
Sometimes it annoys me when people from my school apply for a job at Banana Republic. Except for Amanda who just got hired, because she's actually cool. But everyone else - kiss my fucking ass. Go get a job at the Rockaway Townsquare Mall flipping burgers and selling mediocre tween clothing where you belong.
One of the guys that Lita picked up on Tuesday called me last night, probably looking for "her hot friend." I was hoping it would be the hot guy of whom she gave my number to, but it turned out to be the hideous, 32-year-old construction worker with about five teeth in his mouth. He said hi and asked how I was, and I answered, "Not much" in a really skeptical tone and then asked who it was. He answered "Charlie, is this Lita, or Christina?" and then I purposely said that he must have gotten the wrong number because I ain't talking to some nasty, heinous bumblefuck who has two kids and wants to get it on with a 17-year-old. Then he hung up without saying goodbye. Thank fucking god.
I think we all need a good laugh. This will also be known as the Philip H. Anselmo Makes too Many Unnecessary Serious Faces post.
Now we all know that Phil Anselmo kicks major ass. Nobody fucks with Phil Anselmo. Phil Anselmo determines your fate. But I have to wonder...what the fuck is with these pictures? Is Phil Anselmo really that godly to be able to make such "I'll fucking gut you like a fish and eat you raw with tartar sauce while sitting on hot coals burnt with every woman's firstborn sons' bodies and fuck your wife on a waterbed" type of faces? Christians, I think you have to reconsider your faith.
Is there something on his upper lip that is bothering him and he is too lazy to use his hand to shoo it off?
What the fuck? Is this in India?
This is the "bouncer at Studio 54" look.
hahahahahahahaha
"I CRUSH FIVE SKULLS WITH ONE SQUEEZE!"
I don't even know.
Christina N. @ 10:38 PM
Isn't it disturbing when you unknowingly turn on the volume too high on your computer or stereo, and when you put music on, you blow out your goddamn eardrums? I'm sorry, but I'd like to continue to be able to listen to Pantera for the rest of my life.
You ever have one of those days when you just don't fucking know what to do with your life? From the millisecond that I woke up, I thought, "DAMMIT! Why the FUCK do I have to wake up?" Maybe it's because I need to rearrange my room so that the first thing I see every morning isn't Kurt Cobain's face on a Nirvana poster. You know what? I have no fucking idea why that poster is still there. It's like that fat bald dude who lives in your apartment who just won't leave; you don't talk to him or anything - he's just there.
Have you ever watched a show called "Dirty Jobs" on the Discovery Channel? Well, the theme song is a Faith No More song.
I forgot to mention that Tuesday was a very interesting day. Lita and I went to the mall and she picked up two 30-year-old guys, one 21-year-old guy, and gave her number to another. I didn't really take part in any of her sexual escapades because to be quite frank, everybody was fucking ugly. The dudes who aren't ugly are taken; makes sense, but very unfair. Whatever, man. She even went as far enough as to give my number to a guy who said he'd call or text me later on. He never did. I don't really care. Then she slept over my house and talked fucking dirty to the 30-year-olds over the phone all night long. It was quite fucking hilarious but disturbing at the same time.
Isn't it just amazing when you think you don't have a CD, and then when you go to check your collection you find that you have the whole damned thing?
Excellent.
I'm even too unmotivated to go to work today. The overlooming threat of knowing that we just got a whole new shipment of stuff during the week and my inevitability of spending money like a motherfucker is just terrible. Had I not stepped foot into Borders yesterday because of my sister, $27 would not have been lost.
Oh, you know what I really want to do? Just sit down in a big fat fluffy fucking recliner, put on a Barry Manilow DVD, get a giant glass jug of brandy, and just laugh my fucking ass off until Monday. And then puke 10 pounds off before going to school. Now that is what I want to do with my life.
Christina N. @ 2:46 PM
Thursday, February 22
I don't know how I feel about the Red Hot Chili Peppers anymore. Their last couple of albums fucking sucked. "Tell Me Baby" better not be on the next fucking retail store CD because I just might as well stab myself with a green re-tagging gun while standing behind the register at Banana Republic. Anthony, Flea, Chad, John - please stop before you become the next Limp Bizkit.
Well not really (hopefully), but saying that they're on the way to being the next Metallica would be too cliche; and all too true.
Today included a long trip to Borders, and in the midst of my purchases was a Red Hot Chili Peppers "Best of" album from when Hillel Slovak was still alive and kickin'. It would be quite very good, had I heard this a year ago before I'd really heard Mr. Bungle. Dude, if you have seen and heard Mr. Bungle covering the Chili Peppers' songs out of mockery, you would think the same fucking way. I have to admit, Anthony Kiedis is a shitty singer - I can't really stand it right now, but I of course still have a liking toward the Red Hot Chili Peppers - just not as much as before. Mike Patton just fucking blows him away in terms of vocal talents making me laugh my ass off. I swear, fucking look it up on Youtube - Mr. Bungle covering the Red Hot Chili Peppers on Halloween, 1999. No wait, I'll do that job for you -
Mr. Bungle even had a random arabic guy hold up some sign about Chad Smith, just standing there in the background. They even had the right temporary tattoos to match. I have to laugh my tushie off every time.
What I mean is: When another band performs your own songs even better than you do - well then, you might as well shoot yourself. And that is how I feel about the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
So what did I buy at Borders? A lot of neat-o stuff. All for under 30 dollars.
1. The Stewardess is Flying the Plane! - American Films of the 1970s by Ron Hogan
2. On Bullshit by Harry G. Frankfurt, Professor of Philosophy Emeritus at Princeton University
3. Alarm magazine, which included a very [rightfully] arrogant Ipecac Recordings advertisement.
4. Wildlife CD by Mott the Hoople
5. Best of the Red Hot Chili Peppers CD by who the fuck do you think?
In one of Borders' many clearance sections, I also found a book on the history of electronic music. It talked about Isis, the X-ecutioners, Mouse on Mars, and probably a few others that are either under the Ipecac label or have something to do with it, but the record label itself was not mentioned in the book at all (nor was Mike Patton).
You want electronic? I'll show you electronic.
1. Alesis - AirSynth
2. Korg - Kaoss Pad 2
3. M-Audio - Ozone
4. LCD screen
5. ??
6. Boss - RV-5 Digital Reverb
7. custom made noise instrument
8. joystick
And then add these:
I heard those are dolls are where he hooks up microphones to, squeezes them or whatever and they make a noise. They also serve as high-quality most expensive of the most expensive stage ornaments. But to be honest, I'm not really quite sure what the fuck they're for.
It is a good time to shut up right now before I start writing a goddamn book that is loaded with bias.
Christina N. @ 5:43 PM
Sunday, February 18
Hmmm, so let's see. Friday. Friday was okay. In history class, my group had to re-enact an episode of Jerry Springer but as Austrian, Czechs, and Hungarians. I was the Hungarian rebel who wanted Hungarian independence. It was difficult, because no one in my group was feeding me any input to know what to do in terms of acting and spreading the wonderful knowledge of the european revolts of the 19th century. Lame.
Gym was pathetic, which actually equals good. Because we had all substitute teachers. Subs don't know your name, therefore being in class doesn't matter after attendance is taken [according to my rules]. So I walked out the door and had lunch, which lasted for an hour and a half.
After school, went to work and got a voicemail from Shaina saying that there are four Baldwins. It's a fact. I still can't name them all.
On Saturday my parents and I had a party for Vietnamese New Year, also known as Chinese New Year for fucktards who think all asians are the same. Tradition has it that all adults have to give kids money in red envelopes, right? Every year I get less and less, because every year I get bigger and bigger - bigger than the adults; so I get less and less money. This year, as opposed to the average of around $75 - $100+, I got a total of $44 and two lottery tickets.
My parents and their friends were drinking like motherfuckers in the basement, and Vi's dad was so fucked up that by the end of the night all he did was hug every single person in the house and said that he loved them. I don't know if he drove his family home or not.
When it got really late, me, Vi, and Kim got quite the fucking bored. It almost genuinely pissed me off that I couldn't finish the vodka bottle because my folks would totally notice that it's completely empty. What I had of it didn't do jack shit. And like Bruce Campbell said, "Jack left town."
I went to bed at around 2:30, after not being able to sleep and playing a game or two of cell phone Tetris.
Woke up a tad bit early today, went to work at 11 in the morn and left at 4. Bought a slightly chipped giant bangle that still kicked ass for %70 off as an employee. Whoopty fucking doo.
My dad didn't let me drive home because as opposed to everybody else, I know stick shift and not automatic. He took the automatic car with him to come get me. While on the road, he all of a sudden pulls over in a large business driveway and I'm thinking, "What the fuck? Are you gonna teach me to drive now? Oh okay, that's pretty awesome." But then he starts spewing yellow and clear puke out of his mouth, all over the steering wheel before he could even roll down his window to vomit all over the snow. He was hung over. It was scary at first, but then I laughed my ass off. Then he laughed his ass off. He drove us home. The End.
Once home, I plopped down on the couch with a comforter and watched Faith No More videos for 45 minutes, paused it and took a goddamn nap. You know what fucking hurts? My shirt got caught up so my skin on my stomach was in direct contact with the leather of the sofa. So when I turned over with a jolt, I almost fucking ripped my skin off. Fucking cows. Fix your skin.
Woke up, finished the other half of Faith No More's amazingly truly stupendously wonderful beautifully awesome collection of videos, and then watched a live performance on the other DVD until my mom kicked me out of the living room to watch her korean soap opera on the local channel.
And you folks thought that I didn't have any feelings besides narcissism and ecstasy. I am quite pissed off today. No one has called me and one person hung up on me over the phone. Jesus fucking Christ. Please tell me what's wrong with me. Is there? Just fucking say it because I've done my part.
Did you know...that I am going to see Peeping Tom and Mike-fucking-Patton in exactly one month and three weeks?
FUCK YES!
Christina N. @ 10:12 PM
Tuesday, February 13
The only bad thing about not having a sibling(s) is that you can't stalk them on the internet. I'm telling you, it's a fucking grand ol' time. But I still prefer to be an only child - which I am not. There is no such thing as an asian couple that doesn't have more than one kid. It's considered proposterous on our continent. I found her Myspace and personal webpages, and I'm surprised that she never said anything about me besides my name in her "About Me" page. I bet if she ever found my Myspace, she'd wonder if I were on crack.
This was only one of the things that have been mentally recorded on my list of asshole things that I have done today.
1. Made a batch of Chex muddy buddies in cooking class, and while letting them cool on waxed paper on the counter, splashed soapy water on a few while washing the dishes. I later left those for one of my cooking partners to take home.
2. United States Army recruiters were trying to recruit during the lunch blocks, and the guy gave me a postcard to write my information on so that they could contact me. The guy nagged me like a motherfucker. I said I'd fill it out and give it to him after class, but never did, even after walking by about another five times.
3. I wanted an Army t-shirt, but the challenge was that you had to do 50 push-ups in order to win one. Are you fucking kidding me? Do I ever commit in active deeds? So I found a random spanish guy who did 72 push-ups on one foot to get me one, and the recruiter didn't look too happy that I committed a deed of exploitation and jerk when handing me the t-shirt.
4. Continue to stalk my own sister over the internet, although strongly resisting from leaving nasty anonymous comments.
5. My mom pays me $2 at the end of every day if I don't eat snacks. I eat a lesser amount of snacks, and still demand my $2.
I'M GOING TO HELL!!!!
Christina N. @ 7:58 PM
Monday, February 12
I can't wait until April. I seriously can't. That just makes this month and next month the most pointless months in my entire life. Peeping Tom = Mike fucking Patton!!
I am fucking sick of Pink Floyd. Are you? I am. It is completely the media and capitalism's fault. Yes, constantly play the same fucking songs over and over on the radio - those stupid fucking Axl Rose-type 8-12 minute epics. Yes, let JCPenney and Wal-Mart and K-Mart and Fucktard Land sell millions of rip-off Pink Floyd t-shirts to fat kids who think they can be aggressively metal. Yes, let Junk Food sell faded, toilet paper-thin sad attempts at Pink Floyd t-shirts to girls who think the Animals pig is stylish. SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
I even had a poster of David Gilmour on my wall, just to fill up space. It really is about time take it down, because that man really has some personal hygiene problems. "He's mad fugly, yo."
Nobody hates nothing more than songs that are over 8 minutes long on the radio. Nobody. Absolutely fucking no one. "Stairway to Heaven" is bad enough, "Estranged" is just fucking torture, "Stranglehold" is an absolute needle stretching the rectum - and add about five or six more Pink Floyd sleepy songs in there and you've got a compilation for someone who's as old as fucking David Carradine. Just, fucking stop it, man. No more fucking epics. The only epic that I like is that Faith No More song. You know, the one where it's about how guys can't go down on themselves. Go look up the lyrics. Supposedly, Faith No More are a one-hit wonder in the U.S. because of that song? Well I'll be damned, that is a good song to be known for. Unlike the fucking macarena or 99 red balloons.
I don't want to believe that Faith No More are a one-hit wonder in this here waters. That is why I will not say they are. But to everyone else, they probably are. I need more perspectives on this. I doubt it, though. Whatever, it doesn't fucking matter.
I'll tell you what I also love. Projectors. Lita and I were in music class today, being forced to watch a documentary about the legacy of Sun Records. To be honest, I don't really care. What made that documentary memorable was the shadow fingers of picking the dudes' noses on the screen. She makes a mighty fine gorilla shadow, I tell ya.
Did I watch the Grammy Awards last night? No. The only thing I regret missing was Justin Timberlake, I fucking swear. The Police I have no interest in. Tell me they have more than three songs that they can perform onstage and maybe I'll give a shit.
I could really go for a crate or two of fudge brownies right now. And a lot of fucking food.
Please, will you help a girl in need?
I'm fucking serious. If you see me on a regular basis, all I'm asking for is for you to get me a brownie or two. You know how my mom doesn't allow me to eat chocolate. It's fucking tyranny.
Christina N. @ 7:52 PM
Monday, February 5
Look what the cat dragged in! Cats always drag in crap. Therefore, Poison is crap.
I have been thinking lately, and have come to a decision that "Guns n' Roses" is a stupid name. Guns and roses do not go together. It's like a Tuxedo Mask type of thing. You know, Sailor Moon's hubby. That guy who wears a tuxedo with a stupid cape and a magician's hat with the Phantom of the Opera mask covering half of his face, while throwing thorny roses at people's faces, thinking that it's badass. Guns are for Ted Nugent and guys with balls; roses are for women who cry all the time that their men never pay attention to them. Put them together and you have Axl Rose. The End.
You want a cool name? Napalm Death. Electric Wizard. Acid Bath. Sepultura. Soundgarden. Thin Lizzy. Fuckin' Exhorder!!!! Even Exodus.
Yes, pretty much metal band names are awesome. "Black Eyed Peas" is not an awesome name, therefore are not metal. Rascal Flatts sounds like an anal sphincter, therefore can eat shit.
So I have just recently finished a clay sculpture that is up in the leagues of David and the Lincoln Memorial. Behold...
METAL!!!!
Christina N. @ 7:19 PM
