Sigh.

SIGH.

Oh well. I guess.

I'm not writing here anymore unless Lindsay gives me her blog. I can rant and ramble just as well on a bit of paper, which will get filed and read by no one.

Lisa now reads my blog.

This is nice in a way because no one reads my blog anymore, and it's sort of nice to have some point to all this writing.

This sort of sucks because I can't really say whatever I want and have nice, personal conversations with myself anymore.

It is a mixed bag.


I'm hanging out with Lindsay tomorrow, we're going to Chinese. Despite not liking Lindsay, and not being liked by Lindsay (or so it seems), Lisa wants to come. This is probably because she does not trust me and Lindsay together.

On on hand, I understand this, as Lindsay is the only person I think I really consistently say only nice things about, and is probably one of the three coolest people I'm aware of. I can't really say no, because this will cause Lisa to worry a bunch and be pissed off.

On the other hand, this could be the last time I get to see or really talk to Lindsay. I don't talk to alot of people online anymore, and we never talked alot anyway except when we hung out. Lindsay is one of my favorite people, and I'd rather not have our last hangout be this ridiculous, uncomfortably tense thing that I'll get no enjoyment out of whatsoever because my girlfriend doesn't like her.

I do somewhat understand why Sa's got a Lindsay problem. Everyone I'm with always has a Lindsay problem. Even girls I don't date who have only a passing interest in me have a Lindsay problem. It doesn't usually seem to be related to anything. Chels comes to mind as a good example: She saw Lindsay was one of my friends while look at my FB page, and suddenly became horribly paranoid and spent a whole day grilling me.

Obviously, Lindsay is horribly threatening somehow, more so than Brianna, who Lisa doesn't mind me hanging out with alone tomorrow, despite her being insanely in love with me for reasons I have never figured out. I've never really understood what the issue is, as any romantic intrests left us a long time ago, but I do understand that it's a common issue and the good boyfriend should suck it up and sit through an awkward, tense lunch.

My Dad was right. You can't have female friends and be married.



Ah, mellowing.

It is 7:24 A.M., and I am drunk off my ass.

I'm watching some shitty show about riots or something. They have this panel of three greasy dorks who are all wearing the same type of glasses. They're supposed to debate with eachother, but they all look the same and sound the same, and since it's a Canadian show, they all have the same opinions, so it's more of a governmental lovefest. Whenever one talks, the others stare at him with their mouths open. I can barely watch this trash.

I wish I'd started drinking hours ago. I could gladly spend the rest of my life smashed off of white wine, living in my parent's basement. It's sad, but I'm not going to pretend it's not totally true. I'm most definately addicted to an altered state of mind. I could quit smoking pot any time, but I would have to replace it with booze. I could quit booze, but it would be replaced with something else.

I just get bored. So bored. Sometimes I wonder if this is what depression is. There are times when dying seems more appealing than living, simply because I'm bored and want something new to do. I've always considered depression to involve feeling sad about things, and I rarely feel sad, so I've always assumed I'm not depressed. Lately I've been wondering.

See, I don't feel sad. Ever, really. I don't feel angry. I feel annoyed, bored, and sometimes kind of happy. I don't know what it means.

I don't know much of anything. I'm just drunk. I could go into a rant about how no one would miss me, but I'm not quite THAT drunk yet. I'm only on bottle three.

Besides, that wouldn't be true. Lisa would miss me. She'd live, but it would take a while.

Dad would miss me. Fuck, I'd miss him.

Edward would probably not take that kind of thing well.

As far as anyone else, I don't doubt people would maybe miss me, but I know I've never been really that important to most anyone I haven't dumped and ostrasized already, and I know I don't treat the people mentioned above very well.

Bleh, this is beginning to dig, and I don't like digging.

I wish I was making donuts right now, dancing alone to ridiculous music.

(The following will all be drivel I want to say but can't)


To the one I'm talking to now:

We can't hang out. You know why. If you really don't, let me spell it out.

WE CAN'T HANG OUT, BECAUSE WE WILL UNDOUBTABLY SLEEP TOGETHER.

It won't be in the same innocent way we have in the past. You've been through enough that I wouldn't feel wrong about it anymore, and I don't like that. I'm with the only person I've ever met who will put up with who I am when I'm alone, and I can't screw that up. You understand me mor ethan anyone I've ever met, and you're gorgeous and all that, but it can't happen. Even though I don't have the moral fortitude to resist that shit anymore, I certainly have the sheer will to not lose Lisa, and will cut you out of my life if that's what it takes.

You know I feel bad. You know I blame myself for what's going on with you now. I moved for half a year. The last thing I said to you should never be repeated, but it seems pretty evident that it has at least a lot to do with your insanely fast decline.

bLEH. TIME FOR MORE WINE, MOTHERFUCKER.

That seemed all very backwards. I sort of figured you'd be the one person who would be insanely happy to see me. I don't know why, I just figured.

As it is, you don't seem to really give a shit. This is fine, everyone else seems to be slathering at the mouth to hang out right now, but it's very suprising.

Anywho, we leave in four or five days. I'm excited, seeing as it's someplace out of Dawson, and as our apartment apparently has a pool.

It's kinda funny. So long as I've got Lisa, I'm not horribly worried about what's coming next.

Well, that's it for now. No music at the moment.

They're justified, and they're ancient, and they drive an Ice Cream van.

I have been listening to wayyy too much british techno lately.

YOu fool! you say, Any British techno is too much British Techno!

well, I say, you suck hairy cocks, so blah.



I've concluded that no matter what the fuck you do on the east coast, no one will ever question you if you do it loudly and seem like you might say something mean to them. Infact, they will be irresistably drawn to your offbeat wit, and semi-deranged incoherencies.

I have so far:
Proclaimed to be the leader of a secrective cult. (It's not really a secret)
Pretended to be a slave. (Though for what I'm paid...)
Talked in nothing but a series of metaphors and quotes from old, obscure movies (But I kall it mah kaiser blade...) for literal days on end.
Finally told someone an Lana story. ("Why did you leave so quick?")
Finally told someone the buttsecks story. (There is such thing as too much lube.)
Repeatedly showed up outside the Catholic priest's house smashed and called him a "Celestial flunky" (no, I don't know what that means either).
Given people around me nicknames like "Self-propelled rolling machine", "Fallback slutty girl", etc.
Made a series of phone calls consisting of "KLF IS GONNA ROCK YOU!".
And pretended to be a part-time hitman. (Which at least one of the bugs seems to honestly believe, despite the fact that I always put on a fucking ridiculous italian accent and call myself Tony while telling people about it).

All of this has been met with nothing more than a suprised look, then total acceptance. It's horribly funny and definately amusing, and more than a little puzzling.

I would probably cross the street if I saw myself coming right now, but these bastards love it. The east coast must have been really dull before I got here, because it seems like I've met a group of people who find me more interesting and entertaining than I ever have.

Well, that's it. Here's your music video.

Chik-chika-chik-kah

I don't have anything at all to write. No one really even reads this, except maybe two or three people, and I don't really have alot to say that any of them would find interesting.

I went all day yesterday at work without saying anything more than "FUCKING FAGGOT!" and "ARE YOU EYBALLIN' ME, NEW FISH?". I said both like a black guy, over and over. I am going to miss working there because it is the only place I've ever been that encourages you to be a complete asshole. We talk about stuffing Kayla (the Jewish one) into the ovens (it's a German bakery), talk about "nigger noise", and generally act insanely offensively. I'm thinking of getting "Arbeit Macht Frei" tattooed on my upper arm, because life has more or less shown me that as long as you work hard, you're generally free to be as horrible as you want and still be loved by everyone around you.

I guess it coud just be that I'm the "coolest kid at the bakery", which is why I'm so well liked despite my best efforts, but since that's pretty compareable to being the "smartest kid with down syndrome", I kind of hope not. It is actually kind of possible though. People here are sort of weak and kind of pathetic, and no one I've met here could probably make it back home. All you really need to do to be everyone's favorite person is to be a little outgoing, an asshole in a funny way, and to be able to pick up on a few vibes here and there.

I reached a realization that nearly everyone I've ever been genuinely atrracted to (i.e. would probably go out of my way to sleep with) looks ALOT like Lisa. Not identical, but close enough that you could see it too.

Then I realized Lisa looks ALOT like someone I knew years and years and years ago. Like, a bustier younger sister type of similarity. Infact she looks more like the busty young sister to this girl than her own busty young sister looks like her.

Well. I suddenly don't care about this blogging buisness. Here's some shiny shit to entertain your simple little brain.