La musique: i miss you/ blink 182

"When I first saw you, you were beautiful. You weren't tanned, or made up, or glamorous. You still looked incredibly feminine. You looked like you'd just finished reading under a tree. So blissfully carefree."

*She smiles, and lowers her head bashfully*

"I want to kiss your face, but shouldn't, knowing I may never get to again. Seems like doing heroin just once, or jumping out of a plane just once. Returning to the status quo is almost more painful, knowing that nothing in your nine to five, milk and cookies life will ever compare to that moment."

* She shakes her head, and moves toward me. We kiss. Heroin has nothing on her.*

I wake up. Remembering every word because I've never been more truthful in all my life.

La musique: the sound of settling- death cab for cutie

This should be fun. The covad geeks sound like they've been huffing glue. They keep playing this phone sample that sounds like a sheep bleeting. They laugh hysterically, oh, and now they're moving on to a submarine alarm mixed in with a d'oh from homer. Also, I just got off my third (hopefully last) call with the exact same lady. I had to hang up on her the first two times because she wouldn't stop swearing. She sounded like she was on a rancid trip on a galaxy of different drugs. After the first 2 calls where she was in a hallucinogenic-like rage, to the third call where she was a mix of barbituates (slow, lethargic) and cannabis (retarded giddyness). She kept calling me her "Saturday night date" then laughing with this morbid cackle that gave me shivers.

Moving on, I was watching this show on Celebrity couples and there was an astrologer talking about "compatability" as far as sun signs go. I got to curious as to what ones I'm best with, and knowing my mom's into that jazz, I decided to check up on it. Now normally I don't (and still don't) put a lot of cred into that stuff, but some of this book's descriptions of myself (a saggitarius) were so dead on..... well.... you tell me.

"Ordinarily, people born under jupiter's influence feer nothing. The typical saggitarian is attracted to danger-in sports and in his job or hobby. An element of risk excites and challenges the archers."

"Most of the time the typical saggitarian is happy and gregarious, but . . . rebellion against authority and stuffy society are common. Saggitarius will never run away from a fight and rarely call for help . . . The men will use their fists as weapons, a rude, insulting person who has challenged Jupiter's good nature often finds himself sprawled on the sidewalk wondering where that truck came from."

*the kicker* "Among the most unpleasant traits of some Saggitarians are a tendency to a violent temper, a love of too much food or drink, which can lead to obeisity or alcoholism, mental brilliance stained by burning sarcasm, or extreme eccentricity . . ."

La musique: nil


Suicide! (and you know it, so... dont u have
something to do?)


Choose your Dramatic Death (Now w/pics!!)
brought to you by Quizilla

hmm... neat.

La musique: envy is dangerous/raised fist.

I wish I wasn't so fucking socially awkward. I can never seem to say what I want to say, when I want to say it, to whom it's meant to be said. I am rather outgoing, but when it comes to certain things I'm cripplingly shy. FUCK. Well, at least I smell good.

La musique: rocketman-Elton John.

I don't really have anything to say. *insert ten minutes of staring at blank screen*
I came downstairs today and my Mom was crying. Worrying over money. She doesn't get child support, and things are running thin. So I guess I'm going to either move out or start paying rent sometime soon. I've been thinking moving out might be a cool option, but I've yet to work out the schematics. I miss school and am planning on going back, so staying home might be best. I also plan on sueing the fuck out of my deadbeat fuckup Dad to get him to pay a portion of my tuition. But's that an entirely different rant that is going to get me in a mood unsuitable for work. Fuck I hate that he does that to me. BAH!

La musique: bombs over baghdad/outkast

I'm at work and really hyper. This sucks. Turns out me and a bunch of guys from work are getting together on friday for a NHL 2004 tournament for cash. Throw some booze and some smoke in there and it should be a good time. I told Brady lay down the tarp cause doins are gonna be transpirin'. But not the good tarp, someday he's going to get married on that tarp... (A million cred points to whoever gets that)
So I was a pretty big-dickheaded-drunken ass over the weekend, sorry Rob for (accidentally) breaking your wall, and to everyone for being an overall assfuck. If ANYONE has a clue where my glasses may be, PLEASE let me know.
I keep having people coming up to me at work saying "You looked like you were having fun on Saturday." Like, Fuck. I'm all about making an ass of myself, but when it's people who you need to see again and again, it's pretty scuzzy. Aparantly I'm engaged to 3 different girls, and that's ones I work with. Long story short, I had a pretty good evening, but if I pissed you off or led you to believe we would someday be wed, I apologize.

La musique: soft pyramids- Q and not U

My room smells like gunpowder, and I'm not telling why.
On another note: Rob! don't die. I can't drink the $100 tab myself...

La musique: just because/jane's addiction

"I can't believe this is happening, this is totally ruining my scene cred..."
-Jonah Campbell between vomiting spurts out the side of the car.

So I spent the weekend in Halifax. I know this not really because I was coherant for much of it, but most of my body is indicative of a good and/or interessting trip. Across my knuckles is written "FEEL THIS" in big black letters, and there's reisdue of some red spray paint on my hand.
The knuckle writing came about on the way there where the backseat dance party that was me, gabrielle, and Jonah got rather crunked. A rather pissed front seat had no option but to grow increasing frustrated as we incoherantly tried to voice our desired destination, then stop to urinate on a church, then found our destination, but no one was home, etc.
It was decided with the presence of a large PEI posse a pub crawl was in order. We made home made "Broken heart's club" tshirts with a stencil and spray paint. Alas, we never used them as we all got too fucked, inked each other up with marker (I have "fuck me quick, the aliens are coming!" on my back), followed by much making out and subsequent picture taking, then passing out without going to any bars.
Sunday, I woke up before everybody else and strolled around halifax solo. I hit up the casino, made $10 on the slots and bought a cd. After a lot of pot smoking pizza buying, and pop stealing, a comunal nap was taken. We were awaken by at 9ish by Bob Best and co. And it was decided that we'd get licked, then hit up the dome. Beer was shotgunned, not to mention spilled all over my pants, we eventually hopped 2 cabs to the dome. As I shared pitchers with one Best, then another. Hazziness ensues. Eventually I got kicked out. I'd imagine partly due to my level of drunkeness, partly from because of my "lewd" behavior with a certain Best on the dance floor.
I have a good scrape from the wrestling matchup on the way home. In a 3 on 12ish fatal fury death match, it was Ling-Best-Sangster V. Assorted mailboxes, newspaper boxes, and garbage cans. Needless to say, we prevailed.
We returned in style in the ol' land rocket, after recovering a joint we lost through the steps. We smoked a bit more of the ol' ganj on the way back, and I got to spend the night in my own comfy bed again.
Verdict: Success.

La musique: Y control- Yeah yeah yeahs

The more I tell you not to think about polar bears, the more you will. No matter how many dreams you have, it never changes reality. No matter how much you want to shoot yourself to make the dreams stop, you never do.

La musique: wait and bleed

So in the epic struggle that is removing the child-proof deal from your lighter, I managed to cut myself, not once, but twice. Enough to bleed a little bit.
As I clutched a blood matted kleenex between my knuckles, staring blanking into space on my nicotene buzz, a co-workers asks almost jokingly:
"Wow, you're looking a little messy, You don't have AIDS do you?"
Me: *long pause* With a straight face:
"Well... not that I know of... I suppose anything is possible..."
The smile vanishes, and she mutters an barely audible "Oh."
It wasn't long after that that my supervisor told me to go put on some band aids.

La musique: Slipknot- Spit it out (There you go A.D.)

Whoa, so how many car loads are going to Halifax this weekend? Seems a large number of us Islanders are taking part in a mass exodus the the main land. Bitchin'.
Someone should bring a video camera. This is going to transcend run of the mill craziness.
To pack:
"Pump this" tank top
Rugby shorts
Little Ceasar's uniform
Fireworks
Any other Suggestions?

La musique: numb- linkin park

"The thing I like about high school girls is that when I keep getting older, they stay the same age."
Fuck You Rob.
So the weekend was good.
Friday, sat home and hung out.
Saturday, Rob had a few people over. Highlights include reinacting The Darkness vid with the bottom half of a manequin. Later, watching Rob's "sister" attempt to finger said manequin. Hanging out with a really cool chick, forgoing the bar, having fun, and finding out the next day she is criminally underage.
Fuck you Rob.
Sunday was HOCKEY! Oh my god I've missed it. I had a good time, and proved that us Asians CAN skate.
Halifax next weekend. Make way for the PEI posse.

La musique: guess.

So I wake up this morning to a song I really didn't want to hear. I hit snooze. I was rewarded with "Follow me" by Uncle Kracker. I suppose I'd never get up if I waited to have a song that I liked playing, Lousy PEI radio.
Last night was wicked. One of the better Thursdays, and I didn't spend a dime. Due to overcrowding Team Prancing lilies was limited to: Myself, the white wizard, Stacy "Prince county's answer to Matt Ling" Corrigan, and JJ from St. Louis (St. Louis PEI- Yes, there is one). Needless to say, we won, again. yawn.
Moral of the story: a) Teams require either me or Adam (possibly both) to win. b) When someone in the know (myself) offers to help, accept.
Following the trivia round there was increased socializing including girl-on girl making out, and boobies (Much of which were Peter's).
Funniest thing ever was some girl rave dancing with Andrew while he just stood there, payed no attention and looked in another direction.
Two more respectable finishes and we could win the $100 PRIZE. Oh the glory...

La musique: when girls telephone boys

I had enough fucked up thoughts, dreams, and relations before you became brilliantly equivocal. Thanks. It's gotten to the point where it doesn't matter if it's about me anymore. I should be barred from this fucking machines.

La musique: nothing.

What am I? Why do I feel so distant, unwelcome. wherever I go. Paranoia. Everyone is talking about me, and it's all bad. I am I so self conscious? Irritable? What's wrong with me?
I'm lonely. I have few "real" friends. I'm a poser. Everything about me is seems so wrong. So contrived. I have no actual identity, only one stolen from others. I have no ambition, little pride, and less sanity. I'd call myself fake, but I don't know the real me let alone what I'm trying to become.
If anything, I'm very conscious of my surroundings, like a cameleon swaying with a branch. Predator and prey. Perpetrator and victim.
Shoot me before I shoot you.

La musique: The sound of my black eyes cd not coming.

I ordered it 2 weeks ago. If I get shafted over the internet again, so help me... Naw, there's no evil on the internet, I should be ok. Those who believe that should go here. and click the "tubgirl" link. There's no way I'm directly linking it. Don't open it where anyone can see it, and don't say I didn't warn you.

Stuff I (more or less) remember doing Saturday only after being reminded:
-Doing a shot of dishwashing liquid.
-Dancing with my sister that bordered on inapropriate (For shock value only).
-Being witness to an assault.
- I remember falling down the stairs, but not: "In excess of 5 times."
- Telling Dan that if he tried to write on my face "I'll slice your nuts off."
-Making a toast to "nibbling".
Did I miss anything?

P.S. Told you the Pats would win, foos. Surefire way to pick the superbowl winner- Bet against Sharlene.

La musique: humping aound-bobby brown (I'm not going to even bother trying to expalin that)

Ok, so I'm still at Jannle's it's 2 in the afternoon. And I'm still hameemered. I don't want to go home yet for that radson. LAst niight was fun fromwhat I reember. I drank that quart of bacardi and some of Thomas' beer, and my beer, and then fell down the stairs repeatredly. Apologies if I kissed you (god knows there was a bit of that) or I proposed to you online, vomnited in your sink or bled on anything that belonged to you.Jesus fuck. Nothing really god awful happened (that I can reember) which is good. I got to see a lot of people I have't seen in a while. bitchin.
wow. What a fucked up night. all that was promoised and more. Nice typos idiot.