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