my Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grr So who has the Australian rock star NOT called? Me, that's who. Stupid fucking bastard cocksucker. I should have known from my last brush with accents that one DOES NOT, under any circumstances, trust anybody who's foreign. Don't even talk to them. In fact, become as narrow minded and prejudiced as you can be without being arrested. People areliars if they're not Canadian. I'm never going to get involved in a relationship with anybody who is from anywhere interesting. Now, it is at this point that my psychic would argue. It's in "the cards" that I will marry a foreigner. ** Just a warning, that's a lie. I just really dig accents and try to pass it off as something semi-legitmate by saying some soothsayer agrees with me. I am SO cool.** I should have known not to get the hopes up. I should have should have should have known. *Cue metal banjo and spoons, country single here I come* But for real yo. And then today I threw up some. Cause, you know, that's what I do. Some people save Ethiopian babies, others have hobbies like fishing or cross stitch, but me? I throw up like a 15 year old girl at an Anna convention. I don't even want to, it just seems like something I do an awful lot. I should take up stamps instead...much less wear and tear on the esophogous. Remember that episode of Seinfeld where George's fiancee dies from licking all the cheap envelopes? It has nothing to do with my story, but it's a pretty good episode. Jeanine Garofolo (I KNOW I spelled that wrong...it's for effect) was in it too. Good times, good times. My facial mask is dry now, so I can go shower and stop blithering in you general direction. 9:55 p.m. - 2005-03-07 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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