Well, I guess I haven't really cured myself.

Here I am, crawling back to express myself. Never learned to talk. Why? Well, because the world is cruel and senseless and violent. Talking is a waste of perfectly good oxygen on you.

From the time that I stopped writting and my old diary went into the archives, things changed... some may say for the worse. And I don't mean just Iran having nuclear programm or North Korea trying out its fnacy brand new nuclear bombs or the fact that Russia is blockading Georgia. No, I'm talking about my inner freaking world. It's rotten. I've being locking everything up inside for the past year and now, well now, I'm ready to burst at the seams and scream. It's true, I am the cashier who will some day shoot a custumer in the head, just because they pissed me off. It's true that I'm evil, heartless, annoying, bothersome, scum of the earth, will-never-do-anything-to-help-people type induvidual. It's all true. And you know why? Because you all, you humanity or whatever you call yourself (vampires maybe?) Whatever you are, you never made it worth my time. Never.

But I want more. Like any of the six billion people in this god-forsaken world I wan MORE.I want more than the dreams and fantasies of better life. I WANT a better life. I want to stop sleeping and instead sit in the middle of the night starring into the darkness and see beyond the veil of nothingness. I want to know, but I want to be ignorant. And most of all I want to escape reality into the world of happiness and world peace. I want to stop the screams of millions of hungry children because someone decided that some idealistic junk was more important than lives of human beings.

So, here, I'm still the pathetic cry-baby I was before, but now with more ambitions to weigh me done. Laugh at me world, because then I would have a reason to punch you in the face. Aggration they say is not answer... but it's sure as hell easier than talking it out with everyone.

Ambitions children walk the earth
And from the time of blessed birth
Like ox pull they the weight of reason.
As years go by, with change of season
Ambitions children hang for treason.

By hands of spawns of hungry belly
For crimes of small, for crimes of petty
The necks of children loudly crack.
With foul tongue, spawns point mistake
Ambitions children often make.

The masss ignorance they know
And error of the spawns they show.
The ignorant cry out for death
As peoples morals sink in heath.
Delusion stifles Dreams last breath

@: How do you expect me to get there, by riding a broom or something?


This has been on my mind for some time.

I made plans with L for Thursday to go watch Jupiter make one of its last round in the night sky. I even asked L to phone me but when the evening drew closer I beagn to feel shittier and shittier. Before long, I just turned off the cell phone all together, ignoring three missed calls and a voice messege left for me by L. I felt bad then, but now I'm in a whole new level of shittiness, cause come Monday morning, I'll have to lie through my teeth (as always) that I forgot my cell phone in pre-historic cave while traveling back on time. In other words, there'll be bull galore when I'm done saving my butt.

The good news is that I'm finally going to have a tennis practice after two weeks of nothingness. Finally, something to take my mind off the fact that some people think that since Rumpsfeld is gone, the US is going to be run over by the terrorist groups. Good riddens to that mother-hugger.

@: satisfaction


No lieing, but a lot of uncomfortable glances. This is going to be a long evening. I can't wait for it to end already.
Note to self: Plan a Saturday with A.

@: -sigh- Idiots.


You know what bugs me? UN. They sit on their fat asses and do nothing. OK, North Korea has nuclear weapons. What are we going to do? "Deeeer... Sanction them? Yeah, that's tough and manly. I mean, just because it hasn't worked for more than a decade doesn't mean that it won't work now.. right?"
Well, news flash. The idiotic sanctioning doesn't work!Why? Because while the UN signs its pretty little papers Russia, South Korea, Iran, and China still trade with North Korea and here's a bonus... we FEED the 30 odd million people living there on OUR tax money. Does it make any sense? Seriously. What happened to the cold war policy? We ain't gonna help until they give up the red flag.
And what's worse... garrrr, can't even think about it. Since certain president of a certain coutnry invaded Iraq, he's not going to stop North Korea from blowing up the world. Why? Because he's a dumb ass to attack a country with NO nuclear weapons and SANCTION a country that does.
In conclusion, God you're really screwing us over. I think some of us here deserve a smarter world to live in. Since you already showed us your love and support with 9/11 can you at leats now assasinate Bush or something? Make him choke on a pretzel or I don't know.. give him a blow job!
Politics suck.

@: Cheer up Emo kid, you're not dead yet.


College, college, college. The whole WORLD depends on my college. My life depends on the college because without a college I am not living. It's hard. The whole focus of my existence seems to be on getting into a college. But after I get in, then what? I don't know and it scares me. This aspect of the american life sucks.

Staring at the same canvas for an hour doesnt change
The fact that cubism makes no sense.
I mean, what is it supposed to be?
The sign on whitewashed panels of the artists mind
Says that this atrocious whirlwind of color is life.
But all I see are twisted angles of money-hungry con mans painting hand.
This isnt art! Its arsenic by ton
Poured into the soup of rich Uncle Creativity
Portraying what? What does that dot explain?
That human race is lonely in the world
Or did the million-dollar artist splash by accident his canvas?
It forces me to think but rarely of existence of our people.
No, I only wonder about who would call this art?
Who prompted the movement of blinded mass of critics?
Because in every way you twist it, this canvas isnt artists soul.

@: System of a Down: Cigaro


My break is coming, just not sure if I'll make it.
E is being an ass, prancing around like a pretty little girl, knowing that he is. Asshole. We both know that if we ever turn out to be alone we would tear each other to pieces. Well, at least I definitely would tear E to pieces.

Anyways, father is still complaining about stuff, I have to keep him in place or else mother would kill him with her own hands.

Nothing is happening big on the political landscape as of yet. But, today I went to check out the newspapers from 1968. Some cool stuff went down back then.

@: I can't wait for you shut me up, babe.


Apperantly, haikus about Bush go better than about Rumsfeld in the public. My generation is shallow. Why me, jesus? Why me?

@: He is an angel with scabbed wings, heart, drugs, face. Wanna powder his nose?


Things are turning around. Had relaly relaly fun time with T, M, B ,and E. Made a total ass of myself, but was entertianing nonetheless. Plus, we went to see puppies. Ahhhh.

@: I turned 30. 30 years of marriage.


If yesterday was the perfect day, today it was the revenge of fate. NOTHING went right. Inside my head is an electric storm, threatening to singe the last neurons responcible for my sanity. It's so painful that I can't even open my jaw... not that it matters. Songs of others is my new voice. Speaking is becoming an outdated quaint fluff I don't want to do. No one hears me when I scream. It's like I entered the sixth dimension of the DEAF people. In addition to the headach, eveything is falling from my hands. I'm losing. Losing, losing all the time. I might as well write with permanent market on my forhead a huge 'L', because that's what I am.
Tired and aching, I'm hopinh and breaking for this day to end. I want to sleep and see that dream with demon/vampire war again. It was a wicked awesome dream, bloody and gutsy.

Anti choice
Anti girl
I am the anti-flag unfurled
Anti white and anti law
I got the anti-future plan
Anti fascist
Anti mod
I am the anti-music god
Anti sober
Anti whore
There will never be enough of anti more
I cant believe in the things
That dont believe in me
Now its your turn to see misanthropy
Anti people now youve gone too far
Heres your antichrist superstar
Anti money
Anti hate
Anti things I fucked and ate
Anti cop
Anti fun
Here is my anti-president gun
Anti satan
Anti black
Anti world is on my back
Anti gay and anti dope
I am the faggot anti-pope
Anti peace
Anti life
Anti husband, anti wife
Anti song and anti me
I dont deserve a chance to be

@: Jesus tap dancing Christ, Luci!


Everything is peachy, now that it's my break. To be honest, I can't get E out of my head. It's been bothering me now for sometime. He's not worth my time, then why do I look over the few words and moments we shared as though they're treasures. It makes no sense!
Anyways, the close-mindedness of the people is suffocating. Seriously, why can't we all just get along? My parents don't even consider certain groups (ekhm, homosexuals) as people. How wrong is that? I mean, just because they have a liking for a different relationships doesn't make them any less human than you or I.
Saw V for Vendetta outside of the comic strip.The movie is good ( in comparison to X-men 3, any movie is bloody good). Although, it doesn't live up to the comic. I mean, the comic is inginius! Something about the sotry captures every fiber of my soul. It's not healthy.

New Story by Me.

@: All that stal... I mean, following actually paid off!


OMG! I had a blast yesterday with S. We went to this little place where they have amezing and cheap food. And then, we hung out at S's house, writing the thirteenth chapter of my story 'Death by Anal Seepadge'. It's a fanfiction/cross over with Naruto, FMA, and Inuyasha. It's dirty and twisted, where Lucifer aka Luci and Jesus hook up only to be then seperated by Luci's comitment to a fictional character Kakashi. Jesus seeks vengeance and everything goes into total chaos. I like the story though, because it's not the conventional fan-fiction where everyone hooks up right away. It's what we call a 'crack fan-fic'. It makes no sense, but funny as hell.

Happy Thanksgiving! God, I hope I'll be able to surivie meine Familie. It's enough when there are two of us at home, but when there's 5.... Bush was looking for weapons of mass destruction in the wrong place. Anyway, at least I got my five day weekend and I have a Saturday to look forward to. Yayness.

@: The Phantom of the Opera is there... inside my mind.


Ah, Thanksgiving, or as my parents bluntly put it "The Turkey Day" is nothing more than another reason for people to stuff their faces with food. And stuff we did, there is no doubt about it. We stuffed to the point of passing out because this is the tradition. I'm just happy that killing Indians went out of fashion as a way to celebrate unity and peace. Besides, there's not enough of them to go around anyway. So, one day, about 30 million turkeys dead (about the population of North Korea) and one turkey is free to live and roam because it's the White House's tradition to set it free. Hurray for Merciful Bush!
Anyways, I luckily survived my whole family. Now I only hope that my friends were as lucky as me because everyone knows that when there are more than two or three representatives of the same kin, there is hell to pay.

@: Gothic doesnt exist...


ooc: This is the funny ass chapter of my story that I wrote with S. Dirty, homophobic, and racist... I love my friends.

Chapter 13
The Konoha Salon Massacre

It just so happened that upon this lovely day Orochimaru was walking down the red light district street, breaking the hearts of many teenage girls, his luscious black hair flowing in the spring wind. He winked at the young women of the Konoha as he lustfully passed his tongue over thin lips.
He was deep in his thoughts when he finally burst out:
You know, I havent been in this story for such a long time and its high time I make myself known and fabulous once more.
And so Orochimaru, also known as Orichomaru the fabulous teacher of the Three Hour Ninja Course Training, decided to head down to the hottest local salon in the red light district Sex Me Up. His red kimono flowed in the wind, while he skipped down the street, at times revealing his well-shaped shaved legs to the passing by villagers. What can we say; hes a sexy beast.
Upon entering the salon, Orochimaru noticed the presence of two other males. One had silky flowing silver hair and the other had long wavy black tresses. The one with the silver hair was getting his nails done and hair scrubbed.
He smugly looked upon Orochimaru and asked, Who let this ugly thing in?
The man with the black hair, who was currently getting his eyebrows plucked, smirked.
Indeed. I thought this was a place for those of us who were truly fabulous. He flicked his wrist prompting the silver headed man to pull the loser sign on his forehead.
Orochimaru stood there with a shocked _exprssion, only to recover quickly and snap his fingers four times while saying, Oh, no you didnt, girlfriend!
The black haired man glared and turned to the silver haired man and asked, Can you believe that he just called us girlfriend, Sesshie-kun?
Like OH MY GOD, Naraku. I KNOW, replied Sesshomaru rolling his molten amber eyes. What a lame comeback. So distasteful
Like, I KNOW! Naraku replied while clapping his newly manicured hands gleefully. Hes perfect! Like, totally perfect!
Sesshomarus head perked and he settled comfortably in the chair. He shooed the stylist away and then glanced at Orochimaru, eyeing him tastefully.
He nodded and asked, So, would you like to join our club? We are The Eye Shadow Fanatics Association.
Orochimaru was taken aback for a moment.
But, he quickly collected himself and cooly said, Sorry babe. Im with The Transvestite Trio. The Trio is way better than you guys. We have Jesus on our side. Top that!
He snapped his fingers in front of Sesshomarus face and flicked his perfect hair and walked to his regular chair, waiting to be pampered and groomed.
Not that he needed to be, he was practically perfect in every way.
Sesshomaru and Naraku stared at each other in blatant shock. They had been trying to get Jesus on their side for the longest time, how could they be topped by this strangely attractive older man?
And so, the three men continued with their beatification ritual, also known to be Sexed Up in silence.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away in The Hounds of Hell, Damien was frantically trying to find his purple eye shadow and black nail polish, along with black eyeliner. The entire bar and office had been turned upside. The dancers had been dismissed, leaving the elder illegal immigrant janitor, the twisted bartender, and the dancing instructor to suffer Damiens wrath.
Damien shrieked, breaking the shaded windows of the strip bar.
Bitches! In my office! NOW!
The elder janitor awoke from his slumber on the bar stool and looked at the two women.
Pienso que eso sera usted dos, mis amores.
Haru whispered to Hatsu, I heard hes getting paid more than the both of us combined.
Lucky bastard Hatsu replied while shaking her fist and shooting the janitor a deadly glare as the man returned to his siesta.
The women were filled with dread as they walked down the long dark hallway to Damiens office. They entered to find the office in ruins and Damien frantically running around, his arms waving, yelling, The apocalypse is upon us. First, Dad makes out with Guy-sensei, then mother doesnt want to destroy his manhood, and now I cant find my makeup! The END IS COMING!!!
Haru slapped herself in the forehead and sighed, How the hell did I get stuck with this job and this crazy emo boss?
As Damien made another run around the office, he tripped over the sake bottle left behind from one of his emo bashes.
The spawn flew across the room, slamming into the wall sobbing hysterically, The apocalypse is upon us.
Haru and Hatsu stared at each other and shook their heads hopelessly. Damien scrambled up, wiping away tears with the back of his hands with a sniffle. He finally acknowledged Harus and Hatsus presence after the episode of mild concussion passed.
You two he paused and sniffed, Go to the salon, Sex Me Up, and get me more makeup before the three horseman come and get me. With that, he passed out, blood creeping out of his mouth slightly.
Ewww, Hatsu said while backing away from the red stream that was coming from his mouth.
Haru just sighed and said, You heard the um, um - would it be right to say hes a man? Ah, hell! You heard the emo; lets just go so we can leave here before all hell breaks loose.
Hatsu nodded and broke into sprint, exiting the ruined office, down the hall, jumping over the sleeping janitor and out the doors screaming, FREEDOM!
Haru followed and asked the joyous Hatsu, who was kissing the ground in a Paris Hilton pose.
Must you do this every time we leave the bar?
Hatsu nodded vigorously, and followed Haru down the red light district to find the salon of their bosss request. They walked in the hurried manner, because they could hear the rumbles of earth as it jolted under the supposed coming of the three horsemen, marking the end of all. Finally, the pink visage of the salon caught their eye.
In big, bold, and fabulous letters, Sex Me Up invited the residences of Konoha village to take part in the bizarre yet effective beautifying rituals.
This must be the place, said Haru in a low tone, looking around.
Hatsu stood, awe struck by the pinkness of everything. Through the glass, the woman could spot figures of the attendants of the salon and its workers.
Well, theres no point in standing outside. Lets go in. Hatsu answered back, practically hopping to the door, excited at the chance of finally seeing what was inside this mysterious and disturbing place. She grabbed Harus hand and dragged the other reluctant woman into Sex Me Up.
The heads of all the salon goers turned to look at them, followed by many outrageous cries:
Women? Who let women in here?
Have the feds come to shut this place down?
My eyes, they burn, women!
Quick hide the eye shadow!
Dont tell my wife that I was here! She thinks Im naturally hairless!!!
Hatsu and Haru were dumbstruck as Sesshomaru stood up and eyed the two women.
With enough sake and squinting they could pass as men, I guess, he passively thought.
He walked over to the two women and towered over them. Naraku raised his newly plucked eyebrows and Orochimaru looked up from his shampooing distastefully.
This place is going to the dogs, he thought with revulsion.
OH. MY. GOD. Hatsu said slowly. Her eye began to twitch. What the fuck is this place?! Is this a gay convention or something?
Haru elbowed Hatsu, whispering into her ear, Calm down, Hatsu! We dont want to be jumped by a bunch of fruitcakes.
Sesshomaru had heard every word with his demonic hearing and frowned, his perfect eyebrows creasing in anger. He flexed his fingers and glared coldly at the women.
At the same moment, Hatsu was beginning to have a major convulsion due to meltdown of her gay senses.
Toomuchgayness! Cantcontrol it! Must - KILL ALL.
Haru gasped and stepped away. The dance instructor knew what was coming and turned to leave but found that Naraku blocked her path. She noticed his perfectly plucked eyebrows and the way he flickered his hair.
Where are you going? The fun is just beginning. We still didnt get our nails done yet. Join us.
Meanwhile, Orochimaru sensed the danger that was coming from the way the two women were fuming and their eyes twitching. He quietly snuck out the back door and left without paying.
Hows that for cunning? he thought smugly.
Back in the salon, Haru and Hatsu were having a major breakdown and couldnt last much longer. While Sesshomaru towered over Hatsu, Naraku blocked Harus path, talking about the new Greys Anatomy episode. The women could take it no longer and snapped.
With a cry of FREEDOM! from Hatsu, she grabbed her kunai and drove it into Sesshomarus heart. Blood spurred out and drenched Hatsu from head to toe. The woman twisted the kunai and pulled it out screaming, LONG LIVE THE PENIS!!!
Sesshomaru let out a pained yelp and collapsed to the floor.
While Hatsu exploded her rage, Haru was busy fixing Naraku a new one. The dark hanyou collapsed to the floor and held the precious stub that was left of his manhood. Haru let slip a sly grin as she licked her wet hand.
She stared at Hatsu, a devious grin spreading over both their features.
Now lets get the rest of these queers.
Hatsu nodded and walked over a twitching Sesshomaru.
You just read my mind.

The Next Day
Good Morning Sasuke! How did you sleep?
Sasuke groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, Why do you have to be so rough, Sakura? Cant you be gentle for once?
Sakura grinned and held out the tray with the breakfast that she had prepared for Sasuke. Sasuke took the food eagerly. Sakura sat next to him and began to read the newspaper she had brought from the kitchen.
She listlessly went through the newspaper, glancing over the stock prices, movie releases, and various things. She turned the page and instantly froze. She quickly read the article and gasped.
Sasuke, who was finishing his tea, looked up and asked, Something wrong, koi?
Sakura shoved the article under Sasukes nose and said, Sasuke! Its Your dance instructor
Sasuke reluctantly glanced at the newspaper and stared wide eyed at the title in big bold letters: TWO FUGITVES SLAUGHTER INNOCENT SALON GOERS IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT! Below was the article and a picture of the two supposed fugitives. One was of his dance instructor, arching over a panicking emo boy, protecting himself with a purse. The other woman was the bartender, a kunai in her mouth and was pinning down yet another emo against the wall.
Wow, I didnt think Hatsu was that fat before. But this picture really opened my eyes, Sasuke said vaguely putting down the newspaper.
Sakura sighed. God, he is so good looking!
God, in heaven, nodded in agreement.
Uh huh. You got that right!
Sakura patted Sasukes arm and said, Guess youre not going into work today!
Damn those homophobic bitches! Sasuke yelled as he watched the pink haired girl search for the handcuffs.

@: I am never late...it's just the bell never got used to my schedule


Oh boy, where to start? My parents like always made plans before telling me about it. My fabulous Saturday with friends turned into a visit to my parents' friend's house. Hurray! Just what I need to get my mind off things. Anyway, so like I always I had to sit there, smiling like I'm some sort of an idiot. The only consolation for this demeaning position? I got to see a smoking hot E from college with short hair.
Anyway, homework is over the hill and I feel fine. After all, as long as we live, we can brave anything, even stupidity. So then, onward my bretherin to a better tomorrow.

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@: Pole.You know. Pole. Do you get it? POLE


My generation has abandoned books. 'tis true, the beastliness of it! Since books don't light up or fire lazers or kill anyone, they are pointless and therefore must be used as doorstops. Well, I say 'No' to that logic. Books are the thing that seperates us from the monkeys. You don't see a monkey or ape or a dolphin casually swiming/running/swinging and reading Dostoevskiy! But any child of a certain age is burdened by the great wisdom of the man's books because we are, after all, are humans and therefore should act like it sometimes. Remember, animals use tools (no matter how primitive)!

Anyway, now that my little rant is fin, I can talk about well.. what can I talk about? Oh yes, the constant need of a thing called 'money'. It aggravates me how people throw out things for which other's kill. Seriously, jeans are jeans, come they from Abercrombie and Fitch or Burlington Coat Factory. The fact that they cover your oversized ass should be enough of a reason to pay money for them, don't indulge in false believes that if they have sparkles, your rear is more attractive. No. By GOd no! If you're fat, you're fat. No amount of cloth can chanegt he fact that you are fucking fat. Call me anarexic nazi, but that's the way life goes on in the REAL world.

And now, a bit of literature to brighten the day.

Tell the white man theres pearl-shell in some lagoon infested by ten thousand howling cannibals, and hell head there all by his lonely, with half a dozen kanaka divers and a tin alarm clock for chronometer, all packer like sardines on a commodious, five-ton ketch. Whisper that theres a gold strike at the North Pole, and that same inevitable white-skinned creature will set out at once, armed with pick and shovel, a side of bacon, and he latest patent rocker- and whats more, hell get there. Tip it off to him that theres diamonds on the red-hot ramparts of hell, and Mr. White Man will storm the ramparts and set old Satan himself to pick-and-shovel work. Thats what comes of being stupid and inevitable.

From The Inevitable White Man by Jack London

@: Love rarely survives the sagging of the breasts.


Shoot me Now. Please... before I begin rant about yet another thing that pisses me off... gangsta raper. Damn you! Damn you for being such morans! Damn!

@: And then we killed him.


They walk in a penguine wobble, bobbing their big heads to a beat of an unsung song. They chew their gum, and stuff hands into too low jeans in that same off hand off beat rhythm with which they talk and rap in the latter hours. They grab the thick waist of the girl and throw her backwards, just out of sheer ability to do so, because they are the ultimate race, the gangta rapers of the suburbia. They can imagine that instead of walking down the school hall, they're in the ghetto with a pocket full of crack. They can imagine that instead of doing homework of adding, yet again, 2+2, they're counting the number of suckers they kissed with a brand new semi-automatic. I. Pity. The. Fools.

In other news, today promises to be a merathon of homework. Yes, perhaps I will be able to finish it and NOT fall asleep with my face stuck to the chm assignment. Fat chance. But I feel happy and bubbly and angry. I'm an angry person, so I suppose it's my 'normal' state. Saturday is ON with B, A, and S. Oh and before I forget I planned to go with Sr to Capital Steps. The only bad news that downed upon me like a fan-girl groupies was the fact that I missed SCOOTER. One time they come to my town and I just HAD to miss it. Urgh.

@: Pessimist is just a well informed optimist.


I find it odd, yet strangely comforting that tomorrow might be a snow day. The whole place was abuzz about the possibility of white fluffy snow burrying us all alive. It's a lovely notion really... perhaps I'll even get some sleep. Alas, it has been so warm for the past few days that I had no hopes, until I went outside. The forst was quite a shock as it bit into me like a starving mutt. Perhaps tehre iwll be snow after all.

In chem, we played around with liquid nitrogen. I love that science beyond life itself. Something about the logic of balances and checks captured my fancy. There is a containment yet an elemnt of creativity. I will ask my teacher to write a letter of recommnedation. After all, it IS my favorite class, besides English.

I wonder at times if I'm an angry person. Most likely I am, because everyone insists upon it. Oh, and Sh cut thumb in half. New nickname? Thumbs up.

@: So to finish the fun so well begun, he resolved himself to kill.


Under impression that putting a picture of Marlyn Manson is .. scandalous. What the hell? Just because the man is a satanist doesn't mean anything about me. Although, it could be noted that for some time I believed myself to be of that religious direction. Now? Now I have enough balls to resregard idea of a higher being, be it Satan or God. Some, never grow out of it. I don't need some one to take blame for MY mistakes. I am a human, hear me roar.

@: Snow Day


I had an absolute BLAST today hanging out with friends. We decided to have fun in the snow today. We had two groups, the Werewolves and the Vampires. Unfortunatly, the Vampire won. Oh well, here's THE DOCUMENT OF AGREEMENT.

We have made our mark of bloodshed, and now have come to terms of agreement. By uniting the Werewolves, the Vampires, and T we will become the most feared empire, known to the dead and undead. With this blood pack we will become one nation under Marlyn Manson, indivisible with slavery of human excluding T and people we can tolerate, and injustice for some.

Then we signed the whole bussiness, ending our hour long war against one another. We had some casualties, like T (who was her own nation) got some scratches from the ice on her face...oh well, no one else seemed to comaplain. I told T to back off on talking about E. How the hell can I get over my obsessions when E is always brought up? People suck... and some blow.

Oh, need to remind myself to tell A to stop sending me all of this damn porn. It's so badly written that I just end up hitting my head against the wall.. which hurts.

@: I can't believe they don't make high heels in men's sizes!


Spank it like a Preacher