Monthly Archives: February 2003

i find it vaguely amusing how i’m running out of things to say. i mean sometimes there’s action and drama! and then other times i’m at a complete loss so i dredge up embarressing middle school stories or something. and that’s just plain stupid. why do i feel this driving compunction to post once a day even when i have absolute shit to say? weblogs are tricky things, my friends. full of tribulation and the beating of the women. i’m coming up on having been blogging for a year soon. and that’s a long time. not as long as some people have been doing it (ian) but still.

last night i went on a “date” with the cockless-tease-wonder. but honestly i am over that and really very happy for how happy she is with her living with the boyfriend and getting a puppy and rushing home to the “family” to see how the new baby is doing. it’s all very cute.

there’s this thing like the aidswalk only it’s a hip-hop party which involves no walking. is anyone interested? it could be fun. Move Against Aids.

looks like ups has a new cock of the walk to replace pierce.

in addition, someone from langlow appears to be occasionally coming to check out our webpages. if you go to the statistics pages you can see that one of the IP addresses is langlow1.ups.edu s/he was at mine in january and now more recently this month has been to visit three quarters

this troubles me. well. not troubles so much as intrigues. who are you langloid? why don’t you comment?

once i broke into c. miller’s car. which was actually not locked so it wasn’t a big deal. and it was sitting in front of my house at the time so i didn’t feel too burglerish. however looking back now i do feel like a huge dork. because what was i doing in his car? i was attempting to cast a love spell using roses and incantation charms. oh yes. you think i’m lying. but really, really not. i was even dressed up in a new age-y caftan. and then i did a little dance under the moon paying special attention to feeling the new spring growth coming out of the dirt between my bare toes in order to properly infuse the spell with earth fertility magic.

i thought of this last night when i was trying to fall asleep and i could smell the dirt outside my window and it smelled so fresh and all waking up from winter and wet and happy mulching. and i missed, all of a sudden, the stupid things i used to do and all those books i used to own.

my point here is: valentine’s is coming up and you’d all better keep an eye on your cars. if you find anything in the glove compartment–dried petals, mouse bones, razor blades, i’m not saying that it’s not possible that i double negative might not have had a hand in it.

fuck it’s too early to be up after going to bed at somewhere around 2:30 in the morning. suuuuckkkkkkking.

and what am i doing up so early you might very well be asking yourself. business meeting. online business meeting at 8am my time. in order to accomodate people in europe. isn’t that fucking INSANE? what am _I_ doing with a business. when did i become all entrepreneurish-shit? i don’t even know how to spell it. and with world domination plans in effect too, what with the far flung group placement. moannnnn but it’s so early. wah wah wah.

last night was hella fun. i ate entirely too much. i got to see my friends. the music was FANTASTIC for a happy change. i think i caught some james brown stylings. so thank you to everybody and thank you to kim for bringing tasty cake and candles too and then NOT SINGING HAPPY BIRTHDAY. i appreciate that so much. stupid song. just eat the cake. is all good.

so upon reading ms. brown’s article in the squelch which sean provided the link for, i realized something depressing. i completely embody the second sentence of her “diatribe”:

Amazingly, in some cities white middle class youth waste their lives going to overpriced universities in preparation for withering away in a cubical instead of taking advantage of all the riches that gutterpunkdom has to offer.

i don’t know if ups counts so much even though it was overpriced, but i feel the tacoma aroma sound which is more pungent than puget possibly decreases its monetary value a little. oh wait, but i still paid for it. exorbitantly. and what did i learn? bullshit! and now what am i doing? stuck in a shit-cube every damn day! making up stupid fake hyphenated words in order to indulge my predilection for swearing and probably trying to be “cute.” i might as well just bang my head on the wall of said soft pliable shit-cube and not even gain knots and bruises. bloody nose? ha! not in this lifetime, shit-cube-sucker. might as well just beat your hyphenated nonsense which isn’t even funny into the ground with a fuck-hammer-hammer-fuck-fuck-hammer.

i’ve never had an animal that had to wear one of those white plastic cones on their heads so they wouldn’t lick parts of themselves or whatever but now that this is a horrid run-on sentence the point is that i have an animal like that now. oh yes! cat in a cone! ha ha ha ha! the amusement is endless i tell you. he can’t walk (this could be in part because of the drugs). he can’t eat (this also could be nausea from aforementioned drugs). he can’t lick the disgusting patch of shaved fur and embedded drain system for the infectious inflammation (this could be because he knows it’ll taste gross). but really it’s none of those parenthetical things! it’s the cone! ha ha ha ahhhhh…… stupid pisser cat. that’s what he gets for messing with my fattus waller.

no but really i feel a little badly for sammy because fats has yet to be hurt, ripped off claws in his fur notwithstanding, and all the other cats (teevsers, sammy, and fuck-face) have all developed some small to major injuries. sammy’s is just the worst so far in that it got infected and now there’s a cone-need. (snicker. cat cone.) but he looks so depressed and he’s not allowed outside or to socialize with the others and he’s IN A FUCKING CONE. so yeah, little sympathy. poor kitty. and he used to be such a sweetheart too. when he was wee. but now all he does is pee. hee. i’m on a roll! don’t stop me!

a girl from the second floor mail room asked me if i lived with sean this morning. i was a little flabbergasted. i said no. and then she was like oh ok sorry. and i was like oh it’s all right i mean, i know sean. and then she went away. the transaction of events was just as i have described. but now i’m too shy to go down and ask her why she thought i lived at ward street. i don’t even hardly ever go to ward street. or how does she even know that i know sean? puzzling. it’s probably the david boy who works down there and was at the pirate party. mmm pirates….yar!