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On top of all the other fucking computer problems I'm having, suddenly, I'm out of disk space. That is just so farking strange. I had like six hundred thirty something mb. and all of a sudden, I was down to twenty six. I'm not sure what the living fuck happened. I was playing Starcraft and I saved my game like I usually do and BOOM, the Internet just grinds to a halt and the Norton alarm pops up telling me I better run the Space Wizard pronto. Then, strangely enough, I'm suddenly back to six hundred thirty something again... Weird... And I was just planning to install Grim Fandango too. I really have to learn how to use a computer already cause this shit's driving me fucking bananas.
Speaking of bananas, that's all I've been doing for the past 48 hours. I've been playing Starcraft, without the cheats. I'm so close to finishing the Terran episode, it's not funny. All I have to do is not destroy any Zerg buildings, wipe out the Protoss, and make sure Kirigan lives. No problem right?
I was playing for four and a half hours straight this morning.
My sleep schedule is seriously nuts.
Yesterday, The Good Mother had yet another fucking panic attack, on the worst possible day. I had a morning appointment with student services to extend my job for another year (which I got! I'm not unemployed!!! Whoo-Hoo!!!!!). Since it was in the morning, I decided to stay up all the way through... Then The Good Mother went nuts and Dental Chick is panicking and begging me to go down there. At this point, my attitude is, "Hmm... She doesn't like to leave the house, yet she gets panic attacks when she's home alone. Oh fuck it and let the bitch go nuts already."
She's on some drug called Paxil. I think she should be on bourbon.
Anyway, so I'm desperately trying to crash amidst cat-hair infested furniture and the Aliens-looking saliva goo of the Baby With the World's Chubbiest Cheeks... And her house is so fucking hot!!! I could only manage to get one not very good hour of rest.
Babies put EVERYTHING in their mouths. I was watching the baby eat cat food for a little while. I thought that was pretty funny. Then the baby started crying and I got the urge to just squeeze it, and keep squeezing it until it stopped.
At that point, I really needed rest. You understand that right?
So with a healthy one hour of sleep, I book it down to Ball And Chain's, who was nice enough to inform me that EVERYTHING is my fault. I'm to blame for absolutely EVERYTHING on the planet: Kosovo, China embassy bombings, landslides, the dirth of Darth Maul, the lack of a Wendy's in town, Bubbies hardly ever having Champagne sorbet... EVERYTHING.
But I was tired. I would think that under normal sleep circumstances, I'd be a bit miffed to realize that all the negativity and horror in the world is MY fault, but you know, I was tired. I fell asleep mid-way through Ball And Chain's complaining and next thing I knew, 4:30 am.
I gave Ball And Chain's asshole fat ass step-father a big juicy hug (kidding), and I zoomed home. No cops on the freeway, turn on the Steppenwolf.
6:13 am
GODDAMN FUCKING SONVABITCH SHIT!!! I WROTE A SHITLOAD OF STUFF AND THIS FUCKING COMPUTER CRASHED!!! DO I FUCKING HAVE TO SAVE AFTER EVERY OTHER GODDAMN WORD?! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKING FUCKING FUCK!!! ENOUGH ALREADY!!! I'VE FUCKING HAD IT, I'M BUYING A BIG BLUE BLUEBERRY FUCKING I-MAC ALREADY!!! F-U-C-K T-H-I-S S-H-I-T!!!!!!!!!
save
Umm, where was I?
save
6:41 am
Computer crashed twice since then. This is not amusing at all. I actually wrote a lot of shit that just got eaten up and chucked into cyber-heaven. That's not fair. I'm being fucked with. I swear, if I ever run into someone who works at Compaq...
Someone buy me a new computer.
I'm tired already. I'm finally gonna go to sleep I think. I'm gonna continue later.
Thursday, May 13, 1999, 5:00 am
Okay, let’s fucking try this again.
I have a serious Starcraft problem. I’ve been playing Starcraft way too fucking much. I gotta wean myself off.
Finally saw the UH gym. I was on my way to drop off my tax form for my award at Kuykendall (pronounced Q-ken-dell, by the way) and I ran into Dell Pickle and Hare Lip. Since I was running on zero sleep, I wasn’t planning to lift so I felt kinda stupid sitting on a leg curl machine while all the scary looking athletes were lifting thousands of pounds. What also didn’t help was all the cavemen outside spray-painting all the plates UH green. Fumes plus zero sleep not good.
After that, went to Kuykendall. I wanted to drop off the form as soon as possible because with the English Department, you never know when the fuck you’ll get your check. Turns out, the woman tells me that I also placed third in the other contest they had. Yee haw, I officially placed in every prose contest that department has to offer, I think. No wait, I didn’t win the Hemingway... But anyways, the Hairy Editor placed second in that particular contest. I can’t believe he beat me but then again, at least I won money. Second and third didn’t get jack-shit in that contest. I still think it’s so fucking gratifying that a story he hated, turns out to place in not only one, but two contests. Like Kitsune said, it proves it wasn’t a fluke. Hah! Eat shit motherfucker. I should run every story by him. If he hates it, that means it must be okay.
Oh man, I’m actually kinda tired. I’ve been so social lately. (Being with Ball And Chain is not considered sociability. It’s a full time job.) Shot pool with Dell Pickle, the Samoan (needs deoderant badly!), Cartman, and Kitsune. Went gym with Filipino.
Wow, not only am I being social lately, I’m being multi-cultural. I’m a melting pot.
I’m hungry, I think I’m gonna eat leftover corned beef.
Everybody seemed to be having a really good time at The Mummy except for me.
That reminds me. I went to pick up my Star Wars Episode One tickets today. I took a chance at the Waikiki. After I saw the news and the lines and the fucking loser idiots trying to fight the camera with their lightsabers, I figured I’d be shit outta luck, but you know my motto, at least make an effort to be a failure before declaring yourself one. So I get to Waikiki and it turns out, only the day time shows were sold out. Apparently, there’s this great need to be at the first show in Hawaii period or something. WHATEVER! Get a life and go to your fucking jobs, people!!!!! So I finally get tickets. Jar Jar and company were excited for a split second. A split second. Then it was off to hunt for Episode One trading cards. WHATEVER!!!
All the press is right. The hype is officially making me fucking sick already!!! Never before has a film got to me like this! And I’m not immune to hype. I’ve seen a lot of strange shit happen with the whole blockbuster movie genre but, frankly, this is just too fucking much already. I’m sick and fucking tired of going to either Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, or KFC for cupholders and game pieces. I’m sick of hearing about internet prices for the two hundred foot limited edition Darth Maul action figure with the two-sided lightsaber that can actually cut steak. I’m sick of seeing the shitty ass video with the faux Latin singers and John Williams conducting amid cut-sequences of footage we’ve already seen in the goddamn fucking trailer that got downloaded and played and shown in every single goddamn theater as a trailer. I’m sick sick sick!
You know what? I’m gonna go get a beach chair and a bunch of reading material, and I’m gonna camp out in front of the Signature theaters. When Scoop 3 and Darren Pai and whatever fucking irritating media comes to me and asks if I’m waiting for Episode One, I’m gonna tell them I’m starting the hype for James Bond Episode Nineteen The World Is Not Enough! Legions of dorks will be lining up behind me with their tuxedos and Walther PPKs and shitty looking BMWs will be circling the parking lot...
In fact, I’m gonna start a whole new religion: Aaronism. (Not to be confused with Aryansim, which is a whole different can of bananas.) I will teach my followers to rant, rave, swear, and deprive themselves of sleep. Services will be held on weeknights at 3 in the morning! We will go to the gym at ungodly hours, bitch about our significant others, complain about the Hairy Editor, tease Olana, and smoke lots of non-menthol cigarettes. Instead of monetary donations, I’ll be happy just to get my car washed. I will be a God!!!!! Worship me!!! Kneel before Aaron!!!!
For more information on converting to Aaronism, please send a self-addressed email.
But you know, I’m actually kinda excited to see Star Wars on opening night. I’m almost finished making my Yoda costume.
