Goddammit, Lady Gaga.

I like your music. I really, really do. (Well, most of it. That one about Summerboys was like--GOD MOGMI WHAT THE FUCK GET OFF MY DESK JESUS MAHOGANY CHRIST

Sorry. My roommates' cat likes to jump on my desk and in my face when I least expect it. I didn't even hear him come in. Fuck.

Anyway. Back to Gaga. Recently, she did this act where she dressed as a mermaid and performed in a wheelchair.

Little Monsters: "omg gaga u so origamalz i wish i were as creeative as u <3 <333 xD"

Anyone over the age of 25: "Oh no you didn't, hussy."

Bette Midler did this crap yeeeears ago. And she made it its own character, so she didn't have to worry about people blowing their blood clots and going "omg u maek fun of handicapz!!11" And when confronted about it, you're going to say that it's a coincidence and now it's a retroactive tribute to Bette?

Why do you do this to me, Gaga. It's okay, though. I appreciate someone who tributes Bette Midler, whether retroactively, purposefully, or shamefully.

---

By the way, kids, I graduated. Yep, I now possess a bachelor's degree in Chemistry. Yay me. Sparklers and shit. Bring out your gays, etc.

I find it curious that it's such an anti-climactic event. Not only for me, but for my bitches as well. My best doormat, Lan Chi, said to me the other day: "O Magnificent one, I don't feel any different. It's like before AND after sex with you."

After I finished bitchslapping her, we talked about how we're maybe just too young and stupid to understand the full impact of something so awesome as getting your first degree! Okay, no we didn't, cause that thought didn't occur to me until after. But no matter, she wouldn't have understood me anyway. She's a woman.

---

Anyway, yes. I have my own degree. I can do anything. Jobs, careers, education, whatever. The world is my oyster.

Oysters are fucking gross.

Random fact of the day: When I hear Imogen Heap singing "Hide and Seek," I always think the first line is "Dust has just begun to form crap circles in the carpet."

Ciao.

Ripriprip

I hate the phrase "rest in peace."

You lost someone. Someone you were perhaps close to was permanently blinked out of existence. All this, and you wanna end with "rest in peace?" Get real. When I think about saying goodbye, or whatever, I don't ever think of that. What really moves me is thanking them, you know. Something a bit more personal than rest in effing peace. Thanking them for whatever I learned from them, whatever I may have gained from being a part of their life. Maybe a bit more comes from hoping that they too are thanking me. It's a nice thought, especially considering the fact that I'll never really think I did all I could. Hm. Unadulterated gratitude really gets to me.

===

The lack of gratitude, however, really grinds my cocksuckers. I obviously just have hangups with the whole emotion. My life as of now is kinda crowded. Two people in the room next door, their demon sapling of an animal, and a person on the couch downstairs.

Ben and Melissa living next door has its ups and downs. Downs mostly include their cat using me as a scratching post when he's bored. Ups include imagining what they do behind closed doors. They say it's just work and video games, but I don't believe them. My guess is that Ben builds rocket ships out of Teddy Grahams while Melissa knife fights with her lesbian sex slaves in a graveyard somewhere.

Bagel kid, he of previous fame, sleeps on my couch. Interesting turn of events, compared to my earlier toastposts. I'm less concerned with his feelings as of late and more concerned with what crotch rot he might be shedding on my furniture. Now, I'll be the first to admit I have the judgment of a garden toilet when it comes to menfolk but Bagel whore puts me to shame. I'll have to be careful when I sit on that couch. Maybe I'll put some home pregnancy tests and pap smear kits next to it just in case.

Hng. I sleepy. I dedicate post to life update later.

Disentomb

Ohi.

Um..

BLARGGITY.

Yeah, I'm writing in this thing for the first time in ages. To be perfectly honest, I just forget about it a lot. It's not like I have motivation for writing in it. My friends never write anything about how awesome I am anyway. I feel like I deserve at least ten paragraphs single spaced and flushed left about how my personality is like a delicious earthquake in everyone's fuckparts. But whatever. I can deal.

I have been so insanely busy. I work till 2 am two days of the week and have class at 9, and it makes me wanna just sleep whenever I have free time, so that limits my time for homework and the like. Plus a five hour lab thing that's basically a final exam every week. With this THING as a lab partner.

Guys, don't get me wrong. He's a nice enough guy sometimes. But honestly, if ONE. MORE. TIME. If I have this blond, crusty, fritos-inhaling beer-guzzling cellulite titan try and order me around this lab just because he's some semblance of a teensy bit STRESSED I am going to stuff dynamite in his cockhole.

I'm not really that angry about it, I swear.

I'm listening to this song called "Hattem Groove" written for the carillon. I've been up there a lot lately playing a bunch. I'm not sure why, but every time I get stressed out I always get an urge to go up there and bang away. Hot. And omfg, I just found a video of someone playing Gaga's Bad Romance on the carillon. I am finding that music. And I am doing it. Cannot wait.


I am rooming with Lan Chi this year. Did I say that already? I think I did. I felt like I described her at some point. Oh well. All you need to know is that she's a ho. A fun ho. But a ho nonetheless.

Thoughts for the day:

* George is obsessed with Magic

* Ben won't stop biting any parts of his hands that he can get his... hands on

* I get little to no work done in my own room. I get distracted by the different kinds of coffee I can make.

* What the fuck is a winter lantern.

* Miami Subs is pretty good and has interesting specials

* Oh my god that girl looks like a dilapidated leather purse

This is a really long blog post for me. I'm proud of myself. I feel empty though. But that's okay. A quick phone call can solve that, bahahahaa cry.

Yours truly,

My Pet Rock



...

PS. I guess I'm not really yours truly, cause it's MY pet rock. Fuckers.

So...

I have returned to withstand the incoming fire and brimstone.

I shall make a more comprehensive post later that encompasses my missing ruminations and the pop-tarts of tomorrow.

Victory!

So.

There's this kid who sits next to me in biochemistry. Bagel kid sits on the other side of me, and we nicknamed this other kid Chuckles. Since that's what he does. I talk, express my brilliant wit and humor, and he chuckles. Until today, what's made him laugh the most is when I said something about how Kanye West reminded me of the HIV protease.

Well, today. I was wondering aloud why this fellow (a very boisterous, know-it-all ex-military so-called "non-traditional" student who clearly likes hyphens) in our class always dresses as if he's about to be deployed.

Chuckles died. He almost fell out of his chair, turned redder than a genetically engineered tomato and almost started hyperventilating. While giggle-snorting.

Now, I didn't think what I said was all that funny. Maybe it was my mastery of delivery and inflection, or my choice of words. But Chuckles actually turned to me and said "That was the best thing yet, and you've said some very off-the-wall stuff." Made me blush a bit.

That's the first thing he's said to us all semester. Never mind the fact that as soon as we heard his voice, Bagel kid and I kinda looked at each other and telepathically said "GAY." So maybe that's why he's sitting next to us all the time. And maybe that's why he wears designer clothes, designer shoes, and protects himself from the designer rain with his designer umbrella.

Bagel kid and I have made it a competition thus far--Who can make Chuckles lose it more often. I'm winning.

Also, I just realized I mentally jump all over the place when I'm writing these entries. I should try to write something that's coherent and adheres to a single topic. Someone give me one.

Cheers!~

DNR

Emergency Resuscitation Post.


A lot has happened. Whee.

Right now, however, my priorities have not settled down so I'm not even sure what's funny anymore. I'll get back to you when I figure out what gives.

Penis.

Till next time!

Do the Hustle

I have nothing uplifting about which to blog. Yet, I feel obligated at this moment to post. Stay tuned.