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Whoo, cigarette buzz. That hasn't happened for a while. And of course, Gramma would wake up now to go to the fucking bathroom.
Unemployment streak continues. What the fuck have I been doing? Spending too much damn money on magazines and action figures. My finances are actually to the point where I'm thinking about waiting for a used copy of Dino Crisis to pop up. I think I'm gonna have to bite the bullet soon and find some sort of job. And I was actually thinking about holding off until after Y2K.
Don't look at me like that.
I mean think about it. Why bother getting a job if there's the remote possibility that come the New Year, your bills could get wiped out.
Speaking of finances, CDNow cheated me out of five bucks and that's pissing me off. They still haven't answered my second email.
Oh, and Software Etc. is pissing me off too. I know they're just sitting on a fucking crate of McFarlane Movie Maniac toys, saving it all for themselves. If you guys happen to know where I can find The Crow lemme know.
Sleep schedule is thoroughly fucked up. Went to bed at 2 pm and probably would've woken up after midnight, but Dental Chick paged and paged and paged. Bitch. I swear, one of these days, I'm gonna have a talk with her. "Are you not getting enough sex? What the fuck is fucking wrong with you already?"
Anyway, looks like I'm going to a wedding. This one is strictly a favor. I'm only going to keep Dental Chick company so do I need to give Mumbles and future-Mrs. Mumbles money? I mean, frankly I hate Mumbles guts. He's such a fucken dick. He doesn't invite Yobo to his wedding but Yobo's going to the bachelor party and the only reason why Yobo's going is cause they need more people to drop money. I refuse to give money to Mumbles. Plus, I'm Dental Chick's guest. I don't need to give anything. And I can't understand a fucking word he's saying. And, I'm unemployed. And I fucking hate the Halekoa. One word: military. Do I need to say more?
Can I get away with wearing jeans? Hell, can I get away with wearing shorts? The wedding's at 1 in the fucking afternoon! It's gonna be hot. Or at least that's what Dental Chick says. Then again, she thinks sixty degrees is too warm. Oh fark. I guess I'm not going gym on Saturday. Oh shit. My sleep schedule. I don't believe I have to adjust just for Mumbles.
Fuck, I'm doing quite well at the gym now. Back to the old late night schedule. Granted, I have nothing better to do.
No wait, I take that back. I washed my car. Scrub scrub scrub. *Kevin Spacey voice* I rule!
Wednesday, September 30, 1999, 3:30 am
Damn, I'm in a pissy mood and I have no idea why. Grr. Fuck. I went to the gym in the morning too. Grr. Maybe I'll work on abs after this.
God, I don't know why I'm so pissy. Maybe it's cause I need to finish the rest of Faulkner by Friday and somehow, I shot myself in the foot again, and now I have to see Ball And Chain tomorrow night.
StacEy wrote that the average couple runs out of fun anecdotes and stories after five years. I think me and Ball And Chain ran dry in two weeks. Then again, this statistic is coming from a girl who enjoys Gap commercials. JOKE. I'm laughing with you...
Maybe I'm crabby cause I managed to hunt down a Crow action figure. Unfortunately, the money grubbing scum at Jelly's Market City has decided to sell them in sets and I refuse to purchase more copies of the Scream guy, Michael Myers, Norman Bates, and Pumpkinhead. Fuck, I should've just waited. I'm unemployed for God's sake. Fuckers.
Or maybe it's because of java scripts. Yeah, java scripts. Go fucking figure.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. ANOTHER FUCKING FATAL EXCEPTION! DO YOU REALIZE HOW RIDICULOUS THIS IS? I'M NOW TYPING THIS ON A LAPTOP WHILE WAITING FOR MY "REAL" COMPUTER TO BOOT RIGHT NEXT TO ME! FUCK COMPAQ GODDAMNIT!
This is seriously not helping my mood.
All I do in this journal these days is bitch and moan. I swear, go read Scott Masaki in Spunker. He updates all the fucking time these days and at least he's in a better mood.
You know, every once in a while I feel like a total selfish, self-indulgent egomaniac because all that's in this journal is shit about myself. Then I realize, wait a minute. This is my fucking journal. It's supposed to be about me.
sigh. I got so many probs.
I'm unemployed damnit. I'm supposed to be enjoying myself.
Okay, this sounds really bad, but do I really really have to give money at the wedding? I mean, Dental Chick is wearing shorts to the church. That looks worse than not giving money right? I mean, I barely know the idiot!
I swear Dental Chick has got some major major bitch problems already but I won't totally go off cause I don't have the energy. Her answer to everything is, "Whatever!" as if she has sooo much else to deal with. Thing is, what exactly is she dealing with besides the fact that she has a thirty year old child for a boyfriend. And the fact that she is constantly hot unless the temperature is below zero. Did you know she'll actually avoid socializing if it's in a non-air-conditioned place? That's why she's justifying and justifying wearing shorts to a goddamn wedding.
Bah.
Fuck, I'm so aggro.
AND THE BATTERY IS GOING AGAIN?!
Take deep breathes.
Focus.
I am a bird soaring through a toy store filled with Crow action figures for $11.99.
Much better.
I'd write a haiku but my chi is just totally imbalanced right now. Maybe I need food... Anyway, happy happy and while you are right, yes that Britney Spears song actually isn't that bad, why on earth would anyone want to publicly admit that?
American Beauty was good. There's a better review in, oh fuckit, you know where.
