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Tuesday, Apr. 13, 2004 - 5:32 p.m.

>: |

Good day mates. While I’m inclined to want to vent about biochem, I will refrain as I may force myself into serious depression thus resulting in my suicide. So let’s pretend I never wrote it, and let’s pretend the course was never invented. Also, damn you A+’ers. Goddammit.

Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that my parents are wretched bastards. So my dad picks me up after my exam. I have been studying biochem for days now, pure. Biochem. This morning I got up at 6, I got ready, I went to school and studied biochem right til 4:30 when the exam was over. I ate one digestive biscuit and 3 baby carrots that I mooched from Leanne. I was highly in the mood for a good strong dose of glucose to raise my stupid blood sugars. I felt needy for energy and sweet sweet ice cream (I’ve been craving Dairy Queen for a good while now…) OH! Did I also mention that it’s the time of the month? That’s correct. While trying to force my memory to remember how to synthesize isoleucine from stearic acid, my pained abdomen was contracting in a futile attempt to rid itself of the baby-service that goes, ONCE AGAIN, unused. FUCKING BODY! GET THE DAMNED POINT! I’M NOT GOING TO BE PREGNANT ANY TIME SOON SO IF YOU COULD JUST PLEASE STOP LAYERING MY UTERUS WITH NUTRIENTS THAT I NEED MORE THAN A STUPID NON EXISTANT FETUS, AND WITH MY STUPID BLOOD, WE WOULD NOT HAVE THESE MONTHLY RITUALISTIC PROBLEMS!!! WHEN I AM READY TO BEAR A CHILD, I WILL INFORM YOU! What a waste of bloody energy. Heh, no pun intended. Anyway, back to my story (before I got sidetracked by the agony of uteral contractions – god forbid I should experience such pains during such a critical three hours again), I get into the explorer (curious why that is italicized? ;) ) And I ask my dad if he’ll take me to DQ. Of course, the typical response “No. You don’t need it. And you made that peanut butter junk. So no.” Reluctantly, I keep my mouth shut. We get home. My mom is like “Honey, look at me for a minute. Did you make that peanut butter dessert?” I mean, first of all, why honey? And then, why do I have to look at your fucking face? And then, why. THE FUCK. Are you speaking to me in such a condescending manner. Irritated, I say “No, I didn’t. I think it just magically appeared there somehow!” Then my dad has to make his comment “And get this Raffia! She asked if I would go to Dairy Queen!” AND LAUGHED! WHAT THE MOTHERFUCK! IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME? And then! There were leftovers so I started to make a sandwich which involved – alfalfa sprouts, mustard and cheese, and my mom is like “Don’t make anything. You don’t need it.” WHAT THE FUCK? OKAY, PLEASE BE HONEST, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME? AM I THAT PHYSICALLY REPULSIVE? AM I FAT? IF I AM, PLEASE BE BRUTALLY BLUNTLY HONEST AND TELL ME! BECAUSE IF I AM, I WILL JUST STOP EATING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE AND MAYBE FUCKING THEN THEY’LL BE FUCKING HAPPY!!!! WHAT! THE! FUCK!!!! I’LL JUST NOT EAT THEN, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? YES? OK LET’S ALL NOT EAT BECAUSE THAT’S THE NORMAL *BOOTS WALL* FUCKING *BOOTS WALL* THING *BOOTS WALL* TO DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m now suffering from hurt bitter rage to a tender cramped hand to a CONTRACTING UTERUS! YES! I HAVE A UTERUS! WANT IT? PLEASE TAKE IT. :S

The ropes are calling. Ta ta folks.

cultured - cure

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.

On The Menu
Have you ever seen a child, on his way to school, have a car drive past and splash him, and then he just stands there and thinks if he should just go to school or go home and change and be late... And then I drove past and splashed him again!

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