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Fucking bad week, fucking bad day. Stupid people. Everything is a fucking mess. (Pardon the profanity that is likely to follow). Bloody fucking mess, that’s what it all is. Ugh.
Leanne clawed me. Hurts like Hell. Who’d have thought?
I know times are changing, I only wanted to be part of your change.
What the bloody fuck is the matter with you fucking white people? Y’all fucking drink all fucking day while the remainder of the decent society is out making some sort of contribution to the world. You all are just miserable miscreants, draining the community of its resources and being a motherfucking pain in the ass. Really. Get a life. Message for the day: Fucking white people are fucking gross. Ever heard of work? Ever heard of decency? Ever heard of respect? Clearly the fuck not. I have to sit in my room and listen to your fucking lazy ass puking your disgusting dirty drunk guts out in our clean bathroom. I swear to God if you splatter one ounce of puke anywhere, you will enter my morbid side, and I will ache for your death forever.
In addition to this, you have the fucking audacity to treat this house like it’s your own? No. Here’s another message for the day: The reason you’re not allowed to come here is because you’re a disgusting, fucking imbecile whose only purpose is to be purely hated. Granted, you fill this role well, but apart from that, while the authorities are away, keep your sorry ass out of the vicinity and off the property. You’re revolting. Your smell makes me want to throw up (in a vomitous rage).
On top of that, you have the insane fucking nerve to step behind a wheel of a car? Look, if you want to be a bloody fuck, feel free, I could care less if your life is lost in a motherfucking accident, but where you are endangering the lives of other (though they may be fucks also) of other people nevertheless, that’s crossing the line. Die an idiot, not a murderer. Mkay?
I would also greatly appreciate it if you could NOT smoke illegal substances in this house. It’s goddamned annoying and it stinks. RESPECT. Learn to fucking have some.
It would be of great convenience if you would just drop dead right about now. Thank you. If you are unable to do so, I feel inclined to take your life for you. Please stand by for further notice of your assassination. While you’re at it, choke on your puke and die. Goodbye.
hhhokay. - Monday, May. 03, 2004 - 7:50 a.m.
back to the meaningless... - Friday, Apr. 30, 2004 - 10:28 a.m.
YAAAY! - Tuesday, Apr. 27, 2004 - 9:11 p.m.
NOH! - Monday, Apr. 26, 2004 - 11:03 p.m.
hallucinogenic - Sunday, Apr. 25, 2004 - 12:56 a.m.
Instead of studying for finals, what about just going to the Bahamas and catching some rays? Maybe you'll flunk, but you might have flunked anyway; that's my point.
If you ever crawl inside an old hollow log and go to sleep, and while you're in there some guys come and seal up both ends and then put it on a truck and take it to another city, boy, I don't know what to tell you.
A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call up the guy and hold the burning fuse to the phone. "Hear that?" you say. "That's dynamite, baby."
Next Thanksgiving, here is a fun trick to play: When the mashed potatoes and turkey are being served, take some of both. But hide your turkey under your mashed potatoes. When your family asks "Don't you want some turkey?," pull the turkey out from under the mashed potatoes and yell "I tricked you!!"
The memories of my family outings are still a source of strength to me. I remember we'd all pile into the car - I forget what kind it was - and drive and drive. I'm not sure where we'd go, but I think there were some trees there. The smell of something was strong in the air as we played whatever sport we played. I remember a bigger, older guy we called "Dad." We'd eat some stuff, or not, and then I think we went home. I guess some things never leave you.
Probably the worst thing about having King Kong go rampid in your town would be the huge, monster genitalia.
As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.
I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out, "Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!" We all thought he was crazy. But then we had some growing up to do.
If when you die you get a choice between pie heaven and regular heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick but if not mmmboy