Holy shit! Ten days left until Peeping Tom. Ten days left until Mike Patton. Ten fucking days. You have no idea of how monumental it is to see Mike Patton in concert. No fucking idea. I'm serious, take my word for it. Do you honestly think that Incubus is a nirvana-like experience of sensational moments in time since the Creation? I think not, even though Incubus is good.
So I've had a shitty past two days, to make up for my awesome Tuesday. Bad news first; as always, right?
I almost called the cops on my mom yesterday because she threatened to stab me and told me to eat shit. It started when I got frustrated by her asking me the same question twice, because that's something that fucking dolts do. For example:
Me: I got accepted to Drew University.
A Fucking Dolt: Did you get accepted to Drew?
My mom caused a whole fiasco about that and then proceeded to go on about how I'm an asshole and am too elaborate when I argue. She says I'm an asshole and would be dead, or crippled by now if we were back in 'Nam, and that we're not americans. Basically, I make good points that conflict with her old-school, old-country conservatism and wants me to shut the fuck up. Since when was it about ethnicity? It's supposed to be about morals.
And yes, I did get accepted to Drew. Probably not going there though.
Today I went to lunch and sat at the table as usual. I ended up waiting 20 minutes for Raxa and Zara to show up. I waited and waited like a fucking idiot, only to realize that my hunch from earlier before that they were going to ditch me again was correct. This isn't the first time that they've done this. So then I got up in a constricted rage to go find Lita. Coincidentally, her boyfriend ditched her also.
Later on I find out that Zara and Raxa tried to cut school to go out for lunch at Mcdonald's. That doesn't make any fucking sense, because I am the one who eats the most - therefore solely committing the purpose of "going out to eat"; but yet I am never invited to go eat. Very deservedly enough, they got caught by several faculty members and the principal, and got in-school suspension for two days as a result.
To be honest, I would not have gone to Mcdonald's with them. All I want is for them to tell me that they are not going to be around and I would be just fine, so that I could go find something else to do or other people to talk to. Don't just think only about your pansy-ass fucking self and leave me hanging like that - and waste my fucking time because you're too fucking lazy or just don't care about or respect anybody else in the world except yourself. I don't care about eating at this point; it's the fact that I am always left out when it comes to knowing things. That's like the equivalent of being literally stupid - knowledge is really power, because you know what's going on in order to base what actions you are going to take forth. But when you don't know anything, you can't do jack shit.
And then I get yelled at twice by two faculty members. I don't mind being told that I'm doing something wrong, because there's no excuse for doing something wrong when you know it's wrong. But these two fucktards, at different times, fucking scolded me like I was fucking four years old. And the thing is, my mind spontaneously works like Hammurabi's Code: you get an eye for an eye. So, if you talk to me as though I was raised by wolves for 13 years and am scratching my ass with your toothbrush, then I'll fucking disrespect you just as much. Fucking idiots; no wonder nobody pays attention to anyone in that goddamn school - because the faculty is fucking full of shit.
Now to the cool beans. I had a field trip on Tuesday to the Museum of Natural History in New York City. Thank goodness Zara chose not to come, for Lauren and I would not have had remotely as much fun as we did have.
Some kid that looked really funny as he slept on the floor.
Turds!
More turds!
That was the only thing that scared me throughout the entire museum. Seriously, not only are whales fucking ugly, but that squid is ten times more ugly, ten times bigger than the average squid, and is attacking a giant piece of ugly.
Bison fucking crack me up. Any big, hairy, stupid animal that doesn't serve any purpose on this planet besides food cracks me up. I am very sad that I couldn't find any yaks though.
I think that bear is going to need a bra in the next two years.
I can't remember what I was laughing at, but I'm pretty sure that from another angle it looked as though that bear cub was trying to mount that dead tree.
Fucking moose, what can I say?
Now this is a true story: Lauren and I stood in front of the ostrich display for five minutes, arguing whether those were ostriches or llamas. She honestly wouldn't believe me that they were ostriches because she believed that the two dudes in Dude, Where's My Car? were right when they thought that the emu that was attacking them was a llama.
Apparently, in a fit of laughter, I thought that ostriches did the "egyptian dance" for a second there.
This monkey just looked so fucking weird. Horrible picture though, otherwise you'd get the idea.
Bitch, please! Ray Liotta was awesome in Goodfellas.
Just think: Humans ate like this before they discovered illnesses, fire, and utensils.
That is the most awkward, stiff, and unemotional sex I have ever seen.
DOLT: (dohlt) n. A stupid person
Bats! Remember? Only a selected few know about this.
SO thrilled about how this tasty hunk of meat was barbecued without me being there.
The Retard Fish
Flying fish. Actual species, you know.
My ancestors were a prime example. So prime, that a museum made models after us.
Gwar? Both are just as stupid as the other.
That lobster was the fucking size of two buckets. Could feed me with an awesome dinner for a week. The label looks it says "catfish poop."
Purchased at the gift shop. Daddy wouldn't eat it though.
I started a whole freak show when arriving to class upon coming back from the field trip, and a couple classmates ate some just for shits and giggles. They also had sour cream and onion on sale too.
Bought this incense holder for mommy. Didn't pay off though, as you could tell.
Oh yeah, and Lita got tickets to go see the I Love New York reunion at MTV/VH1 Studios.
Christina N. @ 11:24 PM
Monday, March 26
As much as I love history, I don't care about the rest of humanity. One of the major reasons that people learn about history is to improve what's ahead of us and not let history repeat itself; well, I don't give a fuck about you. Which means that I shouldn't have to write this paper. I'm only good at doing things on the spot, when someone is breathing over my shoulder - otherwise I wouldn't do it at all. Because I don't give a shit. Don't you think I'm brainy enough already? Look at the color of my hair, my yellow skin, and my squinty eyes - my IQ is at least above a 200.
Sometimes I feel like I'm growing old too fast - if not physically, then mentally. Jesus fucking Christ, am I turning into a fucking pregnant sap? I just watched Jersey Girl the other day, yeah, that fucking "Bennifer" movie that isn't Gigli, and got teary-eyed at the end when he was dancing with his daughter in his arms. And then I got teary again today when Al Pacino makes his 8-minute speech at the end of Scent of a Woman. Why did I get emotional about Al Pacino's speech in a movie with a happy ending? (Do you really think I care that I ruined the movie for you?) Because it was so fucking good. Al Pacino's acting was so sensational that it made me cry.
God, I need a fucking life - NOW. Scent of a Woman is such a good movie that I must get it on DVD special edition 2-disc set, loaded with five hours of extras, plus widescreen and fullscreen options. I don't know if that even exists, but I want that shit in my possession, pronto. Not Jersey Girl though. However, I do have to say that Jersey Girl is a good movie. Come on, George Carlin was in it.
Look at the top of the poster.
I like how Al Pacino is looking almost straight ahead in this picture as though he weren't blind.
But anyway, I've had a long hard day at work. Store was fucking loaded with customers, and as opposed to my usual of not getting anybody to sign up for a Banana Card, I got fucking three customers to sign up today. That means something, it really does. We've gone for days since the end of the holiday season without getting any cards. But today was so crazy that I got fucking three, dude.
This little asian girl who wore so much Pepto Bismal-pink in her outfit kept harassing me by staring up at me like I'm a fucking alien who crawled out of her father's asshole. Whenever I talked and helped a customer, she would be standing there in the edge of my eye looking straight at me as if she wanted to send a poltergeist named Damien after my ass. She even taunted me as I fixed the denim wall by trying to hide behind the doorway to the fitting rooms, only to look at me as if to ponder if I really had a nose or not. Aren't asian kids supposed to be obedient? What the fuck happened? If I did that when I was a kid, my head would've gotten molded into the shape of a penny souvenir that you squash in one of those cranking machines in a Niagara Falls travel shop or something.
She bothered me for about an hour or so, until her scummyass family finally paid for their shit and left. Her brother, an ugly fucktard around my age, was also a douchebag. I asked him if he needed help because he was holding a mountain of clothes - and he said in a grumbly tone, as if he were better than me: "NO." Bitch, you pay full price for Banana Republic clothing - I don't. So shut the fuck up and shove your sister and her obnoxiousness up your ass.
I have always wanted to try the Pizza Hut "Cheesy Bites pizza." Hot damn.
My phone hasn't rung for almost an entire week. I guess I really do suck that much? Oh well, I have my ambitions of owning Scent of a Woman on DVD; So I'm okay.
I called Shaina for the first time in two weeks and she shooed me off within the blink of an eye, just like for about the past two months or so. I wasn't too happy about it, but I guess she's having a good time that she definitely deserves, so I shouldn't be complaining. Although I am kind of disappointed.
Then I tried calling Raxa, who probably was working and couldn't answer her phone. She eventually called me back, but I was working so I missed her call. Smart girl and all, but it seems as though she and her best friend only care about one another and themselves - and only each other and themselves. Which means they shoo everybody else off like they're absolute shit. Come on, I know they're best friends and are always together and do everything together, but you have to respect everyone else around you at the same time. The world doesn't revolve around you. I mean, they've ditched me on several occasions without telling me at all whatsoever.
And not to mention that they always talk about sex - and not in the funny way either. If there is one thing that I cannot stand - it is corny sex jokes and how horny you are all the time; I really couldn't give a shit. Sex with your nastyass latino boyfriend who lists different pills off the top of his head isn't all that matters in the world. Seriously, it is all that I hear when I'm around them. Seriously. I fucking swear. I can't have an actual intelligent conversation with anyone anymore.
I know I enjoy being alone a lot of the time, but only up to a certain point before I go fucking crazy. Get some fucking friends, Christina.
Exactly two more weeks until Mike Patton!
Christina N. @ 12:38 AM
Thursday, March 22
I think the Jelly Belly people have the vomit-flavored jelly bean all wrong. Vomit never tastes the same for more than once, even if it's just water. Everybody's stomach fluids are different, and stomach fluids are in water vomit also. But, vomit is always varied in taste, color, and texture - because of what the fuck you ate.
18 days until Peeping Tom! 18 days until Mike Patton! Shit man, that's less than three weeks away. I once watched a video where he mentioned just about the only positive thing about having braces: "They'll blow you and give you a massage at the same time!"
The Fray sucks, end of story. Any band that used to be a Christian worship group sucks balls. You know what? Christians suck balls. Unfortunately, The Fray are pretty popular on the Banana Republic CDs that I have to listen to as I work six hours a day.
Speaking of christianity, the funniest thing happened yesterday. In pop music class, we had to present our songs on "social protest/change." One kid brought in a song by a - and I say this precisely, word for word - "Christian death metal band." The song was supporting the war in Iraq in revenge for 9-11. When the kid said that, I could see the word "IRONY" in black letters floating all around him and the boombox.
I heard that they are opening up an H&M at the Rockaway Townsquare Mall. Even then, I still wouldn't come there to shop because I know I'd be wearing the same clothes as a girl whose vajayjay is grimier than an 18-wheeler's mudflaps that just made a round trip across Siberia.
I will never forget this:
"Last year, in Los Angeles, a robber threatened a store owner with a syringe that he claimed had HIV on it, saying 'Give me the money or I'll give you AIDS.' You know what I would've told him? 'If you give me AIDS I'm gonna find your wife and daughter and fuck them.'"
Christina N. @ 9:31 PM
Saturday, March 17
Yesterday I woke up with the most horrifying headache known to ever exist on any living being. I could guarantee you it was almost the equivalent of getting your head sawed down the center with a chainsaw, but I wouldn't know that. School was cancelled due to snow, and I couldn't make any use of it - I caught a fucking flu virus. I blame it on:
1. My inability to sustain a strong immune system
2. That fat fucker in my computer art class who smells like an ass that hasn't been wiped for several days who kept coughing in my direction
3. The fucking gym class that made me do three laps outside on the track during inclement weather.
It's one of those reasons - and when I was able to get up and walk yesterday, I felt like I was fucking dying from cancer or something. Kind of makes me want to revoke all of the times that I've told someone to "Eat a bite of cancer."
Luckily enough, the weather was so bad that Banana Republic closed shop before I had to come work, but I was rendered not well enough to even work my 6 1/2 shift today - with potentially happy fellow co-workers because they all love St. Patrick's Day, and that 6 1/2 hours of work is a good long day's worth of money. Goddamn flying fucktard, man.
My headache this morning digressed to around and behind my eyes, and it felt as though my brain was holding a clamp with two hands and squeezing my eyeballs from the inside - it hurt to look up.
I was very bored today, because television is so bad that when I leave it on, waiting for something good to air, the shit that they show on the TV is so bad that it gives me a headache. Happens all the time, not just when I get a headache. Also, when watching a marathon of MSNBC Investigates documentaries, it doesn't make you feel too good in the stomach either. They do not have a single one on about anything positive in this world. It's about time that I got the National Geographic Channel.
It is kind of hypocritical to say that Latin is a dead language, when song titles and book titles and whatnot all over the place are utiilizing Latin words; and not to mention that Latin is still being taught in many schools. So what the fuck do you mean when you say it's a "dead language?" Do you just love saying the word "dead" so much that you still like to consider Latin a "dead" language? Fuck you!
I've been wanting to get a portable DVD player. There are many times in my life that I am at a place where I don't want to be (music class, the DMV, long lines) and need some alleviation to my pain and sorrow. What's better than to be able to watch Wayne's World wherever, and whenever you want?
Christina N. @ 10:56 PM
Wednesday, March 14
Warning: Soft Moment
I was just surfing through some craft blogs, and found the most adorable things in the world.
Awwwww!! Look at the little birdies!!
Sooo cuuuuuute!!!
And just to make things clear, I don't really want kids. I just think that that shit is absolutely fucking adorable. Also, so that none of you copyright motherfuckers bust my ass for exploitation: Pictures courtesy of Wee Wonderfuls.
/End Monkey Sap
So the same caveman-like smelly kid in my computer art class stunk even more than usual today. It was over 70 degrees out, so I guess added on top of his stinkass B.O., he sweat even more. I was sitting in front of my computer across from him about five feet away, and literally started coughing. I could even see the nasty puke-green transparent particles of his nasty stench wafting towards my nose. It was that bad.
This is the greatest Faith No More picture ever taken.
I'm done! That was boring, wasn't it?
Christina N. @ 8:34 PM
Tuesday, March 13
Bitch!
Is she all of a sudden into Alice Cooper or something?
I know, I know, Alice Cooper wasn't really the one who tore up the chicken to shreds and drank its blood. He tells the story exactly the same way in virtually every interview. Not that I have watched that many documentaries. Not me. No way.
Okay, I officially proclaim today, Tuesday, March 13th, 2007 - to be the first day during this "weird lunar phase" that not a single creepy guy has bothered me. Not one! Thank fucking goodness. If you talk to me, or communicate with me in any sort of way, and I am a blunt-ass motherfucker who isn't laughing at anything at all, nor do I tell you silly little anecdotes with my sadistic sense of humor - then that means that I don't fucking like you. Fuck off. It's that simple. Get a fucking clue. Go back to your mom's house and masturbate. That's the only poontang that you're going to get.
Christina N. @ 7:47 PM
Monday, March 12
Can you believe that not a single creepy motherfucker guy with a nastyass, sourpuss boner bothered me today? Thank fucking goodness. Maybe the moon is done with that weird phase for now. Shit, just after typing that sentence one of them just IMed me. Motherfucker!!! I just jinxed myself.
But yes, the fat fuck in my english class did not say a single thing to me today, nor did he ask me a stupid question or lame attempt at getting my attention, nor did I catch the fat fucker looking at me. Fuck off! I smell too good for you. You can't fucking bathe because you can't fucking reach your back with the bar of soap or a back brush. The only prime piece of meat I saw today was in an Urban Outfitters catalog.
So you know how iPods and other MP3 players are banned in my school, right? Because some kind of constipated dolt said that MP3 players help us cheat on tests. (Even if they could store Word documents, we wouldn't have the fucking MP3 player or any other electronic device in front of us while taking a goddamn test, that's fucking common sense and has been in rule for ever since schooling ever existed. Reading off of your MP3 player is just like reading off of your notes before a test, so where is the fucking common sense?) So in the Computer Art room, a student could bring in a CD for the teacher to play on the overhead speakers to make up for the lack of music.
Well, some bitchass ho (authentic identfication) bought in a mixtape that she made of which included mostly of bullshit that I already hear at work! I have no idea who these fucking "retail store/elevator music" type artists are, but if you like that shit and listen to it for leisure, then I suggest that you have a serious fucking problem. Dude, I was so fucking pissed off. I work 6-8 hours Friday-Sunday and hear the same goddamn Banana Republic/idealic retail store bullshit on rotation, 10 times a day and now I have to work through it again?
It's shit like Nelly Furtado, The Fray (which actually aren't on her CD, but I could see that terrible future ahead of me), John Lameass Mayer, Natasha Bedingfield (no one give a flying fuck how her name is really spelled), and Jack I'm-boring-as-a-1-inch-penised-man Johnson. Are you trying to perform surgery on me? Did you run out of anesthesia? Sorry, bad joke there.
And not to mention that either that girl, or whoever the fuck, fucking turned up the volume at one point? Had I not been at the brink of tears, I would've stood up from my fucking corner seat and thrown a fucking fit, because not only was that crap on it, but reggaetone was too.
At that point, I was about ready to fucking cry my eyes out; it was so bad. I even thought about hiding behind my Apple computer tower and calling my mom. Why the fuck blast obnoxious, Chinese water torture-like beats into my ears and then expect me to make art? You've got to be kidding me. That's like trying to do brain surgery while bungee jumping - virtually impossible to do. No wonder my work looks like the cover of a Panic! at the Disco album.
No joke - I fucking swear that I was about to cover my face and cry; I couldn't take it. I felt like a kid waiting at the doctor's office for two hours for his mom and can't go anywhere because he doesn't know what to do and is about to throw a temper tantrum once his mom comes out and fucking cries and bawls so much that his face becomes the equivalent of a wet tomato (I know this by experience). All of that torture added on top of this fucking caveman-like kid sitting across from me, humming showtunes and coughing chronic illnesses out of his lungs.
Ulgh, with a side of ulgh.
I am kind of bummed out that I can't go to the Roseland Ballroom at New York and see Down at the end of this month. Holy shit motherfucker, it would've kicked ass though. But hey, I'm seeing Peeping Tom and Mike-fucking-Patton around the same time anyway. Shit son, I can't even imagine it; it still hasn't hit me yet, even after over two months of obtaining my ticket. Too bad I am still under strict control of my folks, otherwise I would've bought tickets for Massachusetts and Philadelphia - I am that crazy for the extreme force that is Mike Patton.
Christina N. @ 6:40 PM
Saturday, March 10
Why is "Sexyback" such a good song? Jesus fucking Christ, I swear. But, like I've said before, only about 40% of the Future Sex/Love Sounds CD is any good. I also heard the same thing about JT's other album. He needs to put more effort into his music. I remember watching the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show (I don't know why, probably to watch Justin Timberlake) to see him perform, and pointed out that he was fucking lip-synching. Fucking phony. How hard could it be to sing to your own song? But hey, I have to admit that I am a goddamn Justin Timberlake fan.
It's almost as shocking as people are when I tell them that I work at Banana Republic. I normally don't see anything wrong with it, but when looking at how when I'm not being professional as I have to be at work, I could kind of see where folks get it from. To be honest, I fucking love Banana Republic. Great sales, man. I've gotten quality sweaters there for five fucking dollars and a rabbit fur one for $11. Salvation Army, whatcha gonna do now?
I think Meatloaf would do anything for love because he is fat and ugly. And the "that" of which he speaks of is losing weight. Because if he would do anything for love, but won't lose weight, that gives him a reason to be singing that song.
One of my co-workers gave me a DVD of the movie Rushmore and it looks quite stellar. I have to say that she is really cool beans. I'm never one of those types who is a big talker, but we started talking more ever since she first asked me if I heard from any of the colleges that I had applied to yet. She goes to Rutgers and since I got accepted there and we both think pretty lowly of the institution, therefore cracked many-a-joke about Rutgers, a lot of commonships (yeah I know that's probably not a word) came into blossom.
Not to mention that she also desires NYU just like me, loves David Bowie and the Rolling Stones(!!) and shares my sarcasm. Finally somebody intelligent to talk to! So I trust her taste in movies, therefore I already know that Rushmore will kick major gnarly ass. I've had enough with dumbfucks that I see so much on such a regular basis; it's really sad that the only place where I can have an actual intelligent conversation is not in school where you're supposed to learn and "become intelligent," but at work. Probably because almost everyone is of an older generation and Banana Republic doesn't hire dipshits like those at Panera Bread and Abercrombie.
I know I love Panera Bread, but their employees fucking suck ass. Why the fuck are you giving me a dirty look? I have no idea what the fuck you're doing with your face, but it's pissing me off. I think I've talked about this before, but one of my managers at Pier 1 Imports ordered chicken noodle soup, and the girl at the register just suddenly burst into laughter at his face. WTF?
Yes, nobody wants to work for a living, but don't fucking show it to me that you hate working. Trust me, we all do. So suck it the fuck up and give a smile when you give me my motherfucking muffin. A tainted face makes for a tainted meal. Who knows what the hell was in my manager's chicken noodle soup for the girl to laugh so hard at. He said it tasted just fine though. Or did it?
Christina N. @ 8:33 PM
Wednesday, March 7
I am really confused, my friend. A lot of people have really been up my grill lately. Many of which I don't feel like talking to anymore because of it. What is this? Full Moon Syndrome? Why the fuck are you folks being such fucktards this week? And all these ugly guys wanting to get in my pants? Or maybe it's just me not liking people more than I already do, and that I'm the one who's having mood swings. Who knows. But I can assure you about the abnormalities in people as of late.
It makes me want to believe that I suck at life, because of attracting such odd figures and scaring (or something) away the worthy ones. Ulgh. Gag me with a spoon. Seriously, not to get all high on myself here, but I think I deserve much better than my current social situation. But I always tell myself that if I wait and wing it out, my ideals will eventually come to me. Because I don't really think that I'm doing or being anything wrong for the most part. Whatever, man.
So Lauren picked me up this morning and I trudged out of my house in the snow wearing foamy loafers, a scarf and a wool coat that sort of resembles a bathrob. Bad idea. Snow = slush = mucky yucky shit = a pissed off, obsessive-compulsive Christina. (I normally refuse to use the word "anal," because of the other term that is so overdominating) Traffic was bad and the roads weren't cleaned yet, and Lauren tends to think ass backwards sometimes, so as the driver and person in command, she made us go back to her house. Even if getting to Panera or any other major place to eat could've easily been reached by:
1. Another back road past my house (that is normally cleaned quickly after snowfall) as opposed to the road to her house
2. Making a shortcut to another major road that doesn't have as much traffic
3. Wouldn't have wasted a lot more time had we done the above two things
Whatever, I was happy being out of the house and getting some junk food to eat. This whole thing makes me even more excited about getting my license and being able to do what the fuck I want with my car and means of transportation. I'd be everywhere, dude. Not playing any pussyass music. No fucking stupid ideas and lame excuses. Need me to pick you up? I'll be there promptly, I fucking swear. I am a time and organization freak and know what it feels like to wait forever because someone else is a fucking retard and only cares about themself. I tend to plan days and days ahead of everyone.
Hopefully tomorrow the weather is peachy-ass-keen, so as to we are guaranteed, according to her subtle times of lameness, to be at Panera Bread. Oh, how I fucking adore that food chain. It's cheap, fresh and better for you - as opposed to expensive, frozen, nastyass fast food shit like Booger King. Although, I don't mind fast food every once in a while. But if I have to choose between fast food and Panera Bread, what the fuck do you think would I pick?
Lita was even more of a fucking pain in the ass today. Why? Is she on her period? I don't know! Everything that me and Stephanie have to do during lunch is according to Lita's schedule. Lita, Lita, Lita. She always rushes me to hurry up and finish my food at the table, makes me follow her everywhere she wants, and makes me get up just to assist her in buying food. I'm not your bitch! Jesus fucking Christ. The world never revolves around one single person. That is, if you refer to the earth's axis as a human being.
Last night I dreamt that somebody had the same Faith No More t-shirt as me. I forgot who it was.
That was single-handedly one of the most pointless, stupid things that I have ever said, because that is seriously all that I remember or have to say about it.
/End boring entry
Christina N. @ 4:19 PM
Tuesday, March 6
You know what? Fuck essays, dude. These are my worst when it comes to assignments. I just don't give a fuck!!! End of story.
I'm not going to do it. 50 points? Fuck that. I'll just think of it as 50 cents can't even get me a bag of potato chips anymore these days. I'll just show up to class tomorrow with absolutely nothing, while wearing sweat pants and foamy loafer slippers, a wool coat and maybe a sandwich or two and a Starbucks beverage. Then take the test in five minutes. And then take huge bites off of my sandwich (panini, to be exact) while taking huge sips of a grande-sized mocha frappuchino. Because you know, that classroom is very cold. Oh yeah, and I would need a pen. A green one, that is. Black and blue are boring. Not to mention that that is also a Backstreet Boys album.
Many times it takes me all night to do them. Not the actual writing and flipping through my notes part; but the part where I actually motivate myself to sit down, think straight, and write the fucking thing. Can't you just give me a fucking A+ judging by my ethnicity? I have black hair and long eyes - I can't be stupid. Give me a fucking A. Of course, I wouldn't be able to pull that off in Asia - where everybody almost looks exactly the same; unlike in America or Europe, where there is at least variation in hair and eye color. But Asia? No. We all have brown eyes and black hair. Every single one of us. I guess everybody else but me likes to fuck someone who looks exactly like them except for the lack of chi chi's, hair length, and genital differences. Fucking boring lot of you, I swear.
Do you know what one of the greatest movies of all time is? Splash. I love that movie.
I am really in the mood for Starbucks or some caffeinated beverage of some sort. Real sugary and real bad for you - that's how I eat.
So I was invited to do absinthe on Friday by a buddy chum. Yes, a "he" friend, in case you haven't noticed that pattern here in the last entry or two. But the thing is, I have to work. And trying to get out at the last minute while trying to make up a phony excuse is extremely fishy according to my mom. Jesus fucking Christ! This is absinthe that we're talking about here. I should be there, not square. I am seriously going to regret this lack of even remotely trying to get hammered on absinthe(!!!!!) in the future, because 90% says that I absolutely cannot get out of work without getting out of the house safely and my mom thinking that I'm doing something legit.
Every, every time that I go out, she says, "NO DRINKING!!! O' I CUT OWFF YOW HEAD!" Even if I'm simply just going to an innocent Superbowl party (for the food, not the stupidass game) at a friend's house where her parents are present. All I did that night was OD on pigs in a blanket, cinnamon squares, iced tea, chips, salsa, and who knows what the fuck else that I can't remember.
Yes, momma is worried about little ol' me. But the fact that she literally resembles Adolf Hitler whenever she's angry isn't exactly what we could call "necessary." I don't respect Hitlers of any sort. Not even Kitler. I'd kick that goddamn motherfucker if I ever met it in person.
That is one sinister-looking pussy.
(Besides Axl Rose, of course.)
Christina N. @ 11:30 PM
Some guy that used to go to high school with me tried out somewhat of a lame excuse of asking me out. It went something within the lines of this:
Dude: I usually don't hang out with girls. But if you ask me to hang out, I'd call you a slut...then ask where and when.
Moi: I'm gonna leave that up to you.
Dude: Which one?
Moi: First one, because you basically just called me a slut already.
Dude: ...Slut.
He has a serious girlfriend and even said earlier that he was happy with her. So what the fuck is he doing talking to me? He found me first and started talking to me first; I had nothing to do with it. So I'm very sketchy about it, I don't want a raging college chick hunting down my ass.
I don't really care anyway. He was really cool beans up to a certain point and understands all of my humor and sarcasm. He's alright-looking, blondes are foxy but if he looked something beyond the lines of Mike Patton, motherfucker I'd be all over that shit in a fucking second - girlfriend or not.
Why have so many dudes been talking to me lately? I love poontang just as much as any other slore, but it just totally bums me out when the men that I actually do want to talk to are never really around as much, or probably don't like me all too greatly at all. It's a real punch in the babymaker. So all in all, I ain't too happy. I seem to have the worst luck and the least amount of wit when it comes to the love department, as opposed to everything else. It's pretty much pathetic, considering I hear about 200-lb. human manatees get more head than I do. No joke - I hear gossip all the time, but it's the believable kind because you just don't make up shit that's so odd-ended.
This morning I went to Target and bought several boxes and bags of sweets and chocolate for future stashing, and then went to Panera Bread to buy even more food. Lastly, my cronies and I went to Borders and I bought a brownie from their cafe. They have damn good shit at Borders, I tell you. Tomorrow we're probably going to Panera again or a diner or something. I only have $12 for the rest of the week, or else I'll have to go bust out my piggy bank.
Even if I did nothing but eat all day in every class (which lasted 40 minutes each), I was fucking tired by the time I got home. Although, I am really in the mood for waffles and syrup right now.
While waiting for school to start, I was talking to some folks in a crowded hallway. Then some guy in a group next to me tapped me on the shoulder and then he and all his bumblefucks started laughing. "?????????" Not to be a bigot or anything, but latinos tend to do weird shit like that - indirectly embarass others for some reason or another as they talk about them behind their back. I wasn't embarassed though, just confused and slightly thought about starting a violent, semi-nuclear raucous.
Lita was quite a pain in the ass today. Bitch was demanding, man. I kind of wanted her to shut up so that I could actually get some shit done and not have to do too much at home. She even threatened to call Charlie on my ass, because I hate that six-toothed redneck motherfucker more than she does and he wants poontang from both of us.
Boring entry? I think so too. Let's talk about something that doesn't have to do with my social life, which you clearly see is as boring as the history of toothpicks.
Last night I was watching Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations on the Travel Channel when he went to Namibia and lived with the Bushmen tribe for a day. He followed them as they hunted down a wild warthog and cooked it. The head was the most prized piece of meat second to the anus/poop shoot, and it would be highly disrespectful to reject to eating such a thing that is so valuable to the group. So, later on when Anthony was alone, he said to the camera that the warthog, "Tasted like it was permeated in its own shit." Dude, I fucking laughed so hard, man. You had to have seen that to believe me.
Christina N. @ 6:23 PM
Sunday, March 4
Have you ever had Tootsie Fruit Rolls? They're like Tootsie Rolls, but fruit flavored. It's un-fucking-believably good.
Now everyone knows about the type of people that I am going to talk about next. You know how when you're placed in an advanced class, and class is about to end? And then some fucking dumbshitted shmuck has to raise their hand two minutes before the bell, and says, "Wait, is there any homework?"
How fucking stupid can you be? It happens almost every day in my AP history class when there is no homework assigned; somebody has to come and remind the teacher and therefore ruin it for me and anybody else who has an idea of what "having a life" is. Fucking dolt. If you do this, I fucking hate you and think that you seriously need a fucking head check. Why the fuck do you want homework? Especially the type that takes you all night to do - no exaggeration.
I swear, the next time somebody says that, I'll say "What the fuck is your problem?" even louder than I normally would. Usually they're too fucking conceited to hear me, but now I really want to get my point across. It is such a fucktard thing to do, that I really can't come up with anything else to say about it.
Everybody knows that the Smashing Pumpkins are a very good band. But their live shows are absolutely, horrendously boring. I even have proof to back this up, besides owning both of their DVDs and not being able to stand them (waste of money, dude). One of them, the one with the live performances and documentary - I don't even know how long it is, because added to all of the extras, extras, and more goddamn extras of the same shit over and over, there's something called "The Lost '94 Tapes," which is absolutely agonizing to watch. Not to mention that "The Lost Tapes" are an amateur photographer's sad attempt at impressing Billy Corgan and trying to document anything at all on film.
One of my managers at Banana Republic saw the Smashing Pumpkins in concert back in the day, validates my statement. During "Bullet With Butterfly Wings," Billy Corgan makes everybody stop and start all over again, just because he messed up.
I folded so many t-shirts today that it is sickening. So you work in retail too? No, you haven't gone through anything when you work for shit like Mandee or DEB. No, that is fucking n00b retailing. The real pain comes when you work for a store where they sell headbands for $22+. Oh, you say that your place sells five headbands for five dollars? Fucking idiot.
There is something called "perfect folding." We fold with fucking wooden boards that weigh what feels like five pounds, steam front-displays, and sometimes are told to measure certain things. Dude, it fucking sucks balls. We also have to perfectly "finger space" every hanger on a rack. Then adjust the metal hooks so that they are all facing in the same direction. The Banana Republic in Short Hills often has its workers stay about five hours or more even after the store closes (sometimes into the early hours of the day) to re-fold the entire store.
Yes, I know that Banana Republic can be overpriced sometimes. But you don't officially know overpriced until you have stepped into Abercrombie & Fitch. I really don't understand that store. First of all, New Jersey is not a warm, beachy state. At least for the other three quarters of the year. Second of all, where do you fucking surf? All I see is a bunch of pansy-ass boogie boarding between shards of dead jellyfish and floating bits of seaweed. Another Lame NJ fact is that we are California posers. This goes for you Hollister shoppers too. What's with these shirts that have all of this surfing propaganda on them? You don't surf. Nor does anyone in New Jersey, because our beaches are so fucking lame that we can't surf. Stop trying to pretend that you're a Californian. Not that Californians are nice people anyway. I've been to California. They're assholes. Traffic is worse than in New York City. New Yorkers just make it seem like their traffic is worse because they have horrible tempers and severe anger issues. But traffic in California is the type where your car literally stops to a halt for about three hours, when on the way there it took only 45 minutes.
As much as I love the Mr. Bungle album, I don't pretend to be a California native nor wear pucca shells and rope around my neck. Fuck you. Put a coat on, it's snowing outside.
I was once at the Short Hills Mall or some shit, and was really in the mood of a denim jacket. I truthfully admit, Abercombie has some nice denim. But when I found an entire shelf wall full of nicely dyed and hand-touched denim jackets, thought that I had found the jackpot. Not when it's 100 fucking dollars when I could have sworn with my unborn baby's life that I saw the same exact piece of shit at Old Navy for $11; and the Old Navy one had beading on it.
People my age around here buy that shit by the truckloads. Are you really that brand-loyal? I think you're just stupid.
What is that I hear? You hate me? Maybe even possibly more so than before? I think you should be hating yourself, for being such a hypocritical fucktard. I eat cows and carry leather bags and get a discount on those $22 headbands. It's all okay over here.
Christina N. @ 8:49 PM
Thursday, March 1
Hey guys! Look what I made!
Yo, that's mad finger paintin' skillz right there!
Original
Oh man, I love going to the eye doctor. Basically, you just sit in a leather chair and get to look at colorful pictures and letters for 45 minutes and tell the doctor what it looks like. Well, what the fuck does it look like? Red, green, A, Z, ass. The doc said I passed all of the 20/20 vision tests, but that I stress my eyes too much and am just a smidge, slightly oh so tenderly farsighted. Had I not owned a computer, my hawk-eye vision would've remained for the rest of my life. She said that there is a possibility that I could return to my supreme Superman eye skills, but vision therapy would cost money and my mom is cheap.
So I guess I overreacted. That just means, "Daaaaamn, ya'll with glasses are blind!" And to think that I went bonkers over having vision like what someone would see after being punched in the face. The doc prescribed me glasses and contact lens, but you know I wouldn't wear them. Maybe contacts whenever I feel like it. Like if the day would require extreme owling skills, like when I have to look at what's for sale on the McDonald's menu on the overhead sign.
Didn't do gym class today. Forged a note from my mom and gave it to the nurse, who wrote me an excusal. Halfway through class, Mr. Teacher tells all the unprepared students to go out in the hallway, for we may be a "distraction." A hanging Exit sign was about to break off of the ceiling, along with one of its sides that has the letters E-X-I-T cut out so that the red light could shine through. Waiting 45 minutes without doing something is fucking boring. So I took a water bottle and started tapping the sign to further loosen it, until the cover fell off and one side of the box with the letters was hanging off the fixture, being just attached by two rubber bands and a green wire. So I got on a friend's back, snipped one rubber band off with scissors, almost fell and almost busted my ass. Then I pulled on it to stretch the rubberband so that I could reach it with the scissors, and cut the other rubber band and wire off. Then I put my scissors away in my bag and tucked the Exit sign under my coat and continued on my merry ways by the time the bell rang.
Wall signs are fucking easy; they're for sissies. When you steal overhanging ceiling light fixtures, now that is skill. If only I'd had a screwdriver with me I could've taken the entire lightbox and sign, then save it so that I could put it outside my front door whenever I get a house in the future. Damn, son.
Christina N. @ 5:13 PM
