I hate Harry Potter. If he and his two little bumblefuck friends weren't so nosy and actually focused on their Hogwarts studies to begin with, they wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble that took seven fucking dictionary-sized books to depict. Right? Am I right? Can I get an amen? Jesus fucking Christ. I don't see what is so captivating about those books and films. I hate nosy children. They should focus on their own fucking business and start building up their own fucking lives as opposed to poking their noses into other people's shit. Although, I wouldn't mind if they literally did that - I mean, I'd love to kick Harry Potter or Ron Weasley's (definitely Hermione, though) face into a pile of rhino dung. Wouldn't that be great? And then I'd tell the fucker, "That's what it feels like to have somebody's nose poking into their fucking business - they feel like shit!"
LOL
Monday, January 21
Have I ever told you that I absolutely abhor olives? They look like giant green snots that probably taste like giant green snots. I don't know how people could possibly eat those, with the exception of olive oil because it just tastes like oil, pretty much. But I shouldn't be the one to justify that because I have never gone out of my way to swallow a whole spoonful of olive oil just for the hell of it, believe it or not - of all the weird things that I have ever eaten.
And I would like to bring up the notion of: Why do the Williams sisters make uncomfortable animal grunts when they play tennis?
What the fuck? Not only do those butches look like the epitome of what a black butch would probably look like, but why do they also have to make those unnecessary noises every time they hit the ball with their racket? My mom was watching the Australian Open during dinner today, and I couldn't help but notice that while Serena Williams was non-sexually grunting away, the other player remained silent and graceful. What the fuck? I find it so disturbing and questionable that I can't even laugh about it. Although I do say, that I would only laugh about it if Andre Agassi ever did it.
Monday, January 14
Bored? I'm always bored. That lame LiveJournal mood option should just be preset to "bored" for every single thing that I write.
So yesterday I hung out with Amy and I saw There Will Be Blood for the second time. This time instead of going all the way to goddamn Montclair to see it, I went to Garden State Plaza. It's about time that they released it nationwide, because every time that I went to see it, the theater was pretty sufficiently packed. As amazing of a film it is, I couldn't sit still for the entire close-to-three-hour-long movie and had to walk out for a cigarette break and get a "citrus squeeze" drink from Jamba Juice during the middle of the film.
Surprisingly, very surprisingly as a matter of fact, I will be quite busy this week. Tomorrow I go to work from 10AM to 5PM, and then am off to pick up Amy for some kind of business meeting at a potential new job that I might get selling life insurance (ha). If it turns out not to be a scam and if I make a good amount of money, I will be ending my time at Banana Republic. Dude, I have gotten so fucking sick of that shit that it is un-fucking-believable. It's just the same redundant shit every day that I come in - even if they aren't giving me that many hours anymore. Retail; I do not recommend it. As my friend calls it, it's also known as "the fag industry."
On Wednesday, I decided to agree to show up for this modeling interview bullshit - just to bust my chops out for the hell of it. Some guy recruited me yesterday as I was walking out of the movie theater and said that he noticed my look (WTF?) and gave me a card. I don't know and I don't really care - as long as it isn't for fucking K-Mart catalogs or any n00d scams, models make decent dollars. I wouldn't mind, as long as I ain't selling my ass just to make some middle-aged pervert fucker buy a sweater vest at Banana Republic; I could live without the discount because no matter what, my money is going down the fucking drain. The folks at the agency probably wouldn't dig me anyway, I'm not too appealing to begin with.
And then at 7 in the evening, I have to work until 1 o'clock in the fucking morning to do inventory. Fuck that shit. It aggravates me so that I don't even have much to say about it.
Thursday I have to re-take my Elements of Algebra exam in Newark from 10AM to 1PM because I failed it the first time (fuckin' skanks). And then off to NYC for a dinner party with "the crew," because a dear friend of mine is permanently leaving to go back to her home country of Brazil. I am kind of envious, because I am so anxious as to get the fuck out of New Jersey.
My plan is - once I finish college, which will hopefully be in three years or less because I'll be taking summer and winter courses from now on, Amy and I are going to be roommates in wherever and I'll be a bartender while I try to find a legitimate writing job. The least I could say is that I am extremely excited for that, because we have also planned to have our own smoke room in our apartment. That's right - our pad will be modern and slick as fuck, but the smoke room will be in complete old school mahogany with velveteen oak chairs and tasseled lamps, with a cherry wood wardrobe used specifically just to hang jewel-toned velvet smoke jackets, and a separate cabinet for about a dozen different types of cigarettes all stored in alphabetical order alongside about ten to twelve different ashtrays for all different occasions, pipes and cigarette holders longer than Peter Steele's cock - all lovingly placed on top of 125-year-old oriental rugs. And let's not forget the mahogany bookshelves standing way up to the goddamn ceiling along walls that are adorned with royal wallpaper. Now that is what I call a fucking smoke room.
And then on Friday and Saturday - I hope somebody cares enough to call up a 5 foot 7 inch asian chick to hang out. If you have yellow fever, you're in luck this weekend. The possibility is very slim and that was just a desperate attempt at any loser who ever bothers to browse Blogger. That's fucking sad. Fuckin' skanks.
Saturday, January 12
If someone were to ask me what my favorite flavor was, albeit ice cream, Life Saver, Jolly Rancher, toothpaste - I would say:
Irish.
Fuck yeah! Nothing is sexier than an irishman. And maybe a polishman or an italian but that's a whole other story. And now I bring you Christina and Erica's Best of the Best of Irish Cream Pie!
15. John Wayne
What is there to say about the Duke? He beat his wife practically to a pulp in The Quiet Man and has killed more indians (I mean, Native Americans) that would quite sufficiently get any poor country stabilized in terms of overpopulation (if you catch my drift, that is). Although not the most quintessential "hottest piece of ass" out there, I'd still hit it. Because he's John fucking Wayne and you can't turn him down, literally. I really fear the consequences of that.
14. George Carlin
This man is old as fuck and yet I still laugh and not find it creepy when he constantly talks about the female pussy in his books. George Carlin is fucking golden.
13. Daniel Day-Lewis
What can I say, I LOVE Daniel Day-Lewis! Although born in England, he is now an irish citizen - which only gives me an excuse to be on the list. Not only is he an incredibly serious master in the acting world, but he makes cute little cuddly faces with those pretty crystal-clear eyes of his. In addition to the puppy dog bow tie and The Crucible, nothing can ever bring down this man of immense well, awesomeness. Can I get an amen?
12. Bob Geldof
The picture explains it all. Any pale-as-fuck white man who willingly stands in the middle of a chocolate sea immediately gets the "Awesome" stamp. And not to mention that this sexy cat has a super-suave accent; if only I could show ya'll an example.
11. George Clooney
Whenever I think of this man, I only think of how funny it was that during the filming of Ocean's Thirteen, he and Brad Pitt went off to smoke marijuana when not at work. Nothing else needs to be said, except that I admit that I FUCKING LIKED BATMAN & ROBIN.
10. Gene Kelly
This dude made his most famous films in his forties, in which he always shagged newly post-pubescent young broads. Way to go! And also not to mention, this sexy brute managed to be manly as all hell with bulging pecks and all, even if he is perhaps the greatest dancer that I have ever laid eyes on. However, I would much rather have laid him in other ways, if you know what I mean.
9. John Cusack
I don't think I've ever heard anybody say that they didn't like John Cusack. There should be no fucking being on this earth that should dislike John Cusack. I mean, look at him - he's so lovable. Although, I do say he had bad taste in chicks in Say Anything. The gap in that broad's teeth that he fucked was as big as an ass crack.
8. The Baldwins
This is what happens when you condense all of the bad traits that could ever possibly be encased in one man and then multiply it by four.
7. Colin Farrell
Holy shnikies. He smokes, he swears, he has facial hair that doesn't look like pubes or the guy from System of a Down, and he has an accent - Colin Farrell is too perfect for me. The only one-up that he has from Denis Leary is that he is closer to my age; although, I don't think Colin cares about age or dignity - all he cares about is taking care of business. Now that is a manly man.
6. Chris Cornell
I'm speechless. I seriously am. This heavenly hunk of irish meat just speaks for itself.
5. Peter O'Toole
4. Edward Norton
Amazingly talented in all aspects of the arts, and that pretty much explains it. I also have to mention again that I'd hit that over and over and over again.
3. Clint Eastwood
Admit it, Clint Eastwood was bangin' as hell. His film resume is absolutely stellar; I don't care if he fathered about six kids out of wedlock throughout his lifetime and is a complete healthnut fanatic - I would've hit that.
2. Steve Buscemi
Quite possibly my most favorite actor ever - right after Paul Newman (goddamn Pole, which is the reason that he cannot be on this list). Every single fucking second that he is on the screen, I have to laugh my ass off. His brilliance never ceases to shine. If you got me drunk enough, I'd probably tap that; as peculiar as that sounds. Hey, personality comes first, right? But then again, I am contradicting myself with my coinciding infatuation with Colin Farrell.
1. Denis Leary and Conan O'Brien
Why are these two tied at 1? Well for one thing, can you really choose? If you automatically choose Conan over Denis, then I understand; you are a close-minded, stupid tool of a bumblefuck who doesn't know who Denis Leary is. That's right - I am talking about the Conan fangirls who don't know any television channels aside from channels 2 - 11, MTV, and the Lifetime Network.
But anyway, onto my point. The superiority of these two men is unbearable. Both of which are so supreme that they are both on the same level of ethereal dominance. And did you know...that they are distant cousins? All the more reason rendering me unable to choose between which one is greater - thus I have come to the conclusion that there is no real answer.
Friday, January 11
Dude, Marlboro cigarettes taste really bad. I was taking a break from the ever-so-insane Lucky Strikes and tried to finish off the Marlboros that I had bummed off from a co-worker the other day. Shit tasted bad as hell. As much as I wanted the nicotine, I couldn't power-smoke that shit. It is indeed true that Marlboros burn really fucking fast, but I smoked that shit really fucking slow with the pussiest of pussy drags because it tasted so bad. I guess you could see the level addiction that yours truly has gotten into - smoking whatever the fuck there is available, no matter what it tastes like, just to get the nicotine kick. Fuckin' skanks.
Tomorrow, or rather later today, I am going to get my car back. I now drive the minivan because my folks came up with this bullshit reason that my dad needs a more reliable car to go to work and therefore gets dibs on the Maxima. Last time I checked, he's the one who doesn't have to drive 40 minutes every day on Route 80 to go to school. Fuckin' skanks.
For some reason, after having fallen asleep at 12:30 today and waking up at 2:30 made me get into a good mood. A lot better than the rest of this week has been. I don't know why? Fuckin' skanks.
Wednesday, January 9
We all get those times where we're just pissed off and somber as hell. I'm not sure why this current wave is washing through. Cigarette shortage? Perhaps. But that's a bullshit reason. It sucks balls. My car has been in the shop all week, therefore my folks have been forced to drive me to work, which means that I don't have the privilege of going to the store to stock up on Camels or do somewhat secretive things that I wish. All I'm down to is two Benson & Hedges, about fifteen Lucky Strikes, and three crappy Marlboro Virginia Blends that I bummed off from a co-worker - all to last me until Sunday when I get my car back and hang out with Amy.
Benson & Hedges makes sensational cigarettes, and I am very saddened that I am almost done with my wonderful pack. For some reason, whenever I think of them (which is a lot), I think of one of the Gallagher brothers from Oasis who owned two cats of which he named Benson and Hedges. How beautiful.
I guess I have a serious self-esteem problem, even though that I sort of conceitedly think that I am awesome all the while. #1: I never contact people. My cell phone has been rendered absolutely useless for the past two weeks. The only time that I actually utilize my cell phone to the typical teenager's full potential is when I am highly intoxicated; and then I feel like an asshole afterwards for bothering people with stupid shit like, "Did you know...that the sun rose today and warmed the grass? It is so totally fucking green today. In winter, the grass is hot as hell!!!!"
I seldom think that I am a pain in the ass to people whenever I call them because most of the time they're busy doing something - therefore never bothering to call. It's paranoia of whether they like me or not. So I end up being bored as fuck and smoking in the bathroom by myself too many times a day at home. My parents have finally accepted that I begrudgingly just will not stop smoking. However, I still prefer not to light 'em up in front of them for I know they despise this habit and have to respect them. I have to admit, it's the only time of the day that I am purely enjoying myself. Otherwise, my sarcasm has completely taken over my persona, pretty much; If you catch my drift.
Yesterday I went with a fellow comrade and co-worker to go see There Will Be Blood, the new and quite fantastic Daniel Day-Lewis movie. At first I never really liked him, only because I went through the agony of being forced to watch The Crucible in high school, something I highly regret assuming, for that movie and John Proctor pissed me off a fucking lot. There Will Be Blood is a pretty damn serious movie, but I wanted to crack up so badly during some parts that I had to restrain myself, although a bunch of others in the theater were also laughing quite a bit. But the thing is, being the staunch atheist that I am, must crack my ass fucking off every time there is a severe religious insult. Anyway, it is a highly recommended film.
Speaking of things that I enjoy, I also tremendously enjoy that show on the Discovery Channel called Man vs. Wild. Holy shit, man. Watching some hot-as-fuck british ex-soldier dude eating a flopping raw fish straight out of the river sends me through the goddamn roof. And that other time where he picked maggots out of a deer corpse and ate them - after being grossed out for about .325678 seconds, I just had to laugh. Man vs. Wild is television gold.
However, I do hate the fact that I have been watching more television lately because I have nothing else to do. It is always an extreme reluctance for me whenever I even think about reaching for my remote. I feel ashamed whenever I do that, and then feel even more ashamed when there is even more bullshit on TV to watch and get pissed off at myself for having to put myself through such pain and everlasting agony. TV isn't going to get better. Not until 2012 when all of electricity and mankind is going to be wiped off the planet.
I kid. 2012 is lame.
Exactly!
Saturday, January 5
Of all the iPod conversations that I have had over the times, I have never heard of any single person owning theirs for more than seven months. Well, mine lasted for four years.
Indeed, I got my 2nd or 3rd (or some seemingly irrelevant version in accordance to Apple and its spoiled consumers) generation iPod for my fourteenth birthday. It started to get faulty after two years; I would then literally, throw it around my room for a couple minutes until it started working again. That tactic worked for two more years. Right now, for some reason the piece of shit only holds up to a maximum of 750 songs when it originally held 2,000. What in the flying fucking retard? What kind of music buff only has 750 songs in their library? Not me, that's for fucking sure.
So how am I? I'm okay. I've had better days.
The End!
