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cor blimey...   
04:43pm 19/02/2007
 
mood: why me? why always me?
once upon a time, a very neurotic girl met the man of her dreams...
the problem is that whenever he would acknowledge her existance, she would be overcome by the sudden feeling of nervousness and diarreah of the mouth...
every time she would tell herself to calm down, act calm, cool, collected, as to let him see the intelligent, witty, and attractive girl standing infront of him.

during one of their meetings, everything was going alright. after a quick slip-up involving a fake british accent, the girl felt herself calm down. perhaps she would even flirt with the man a bit. after the man had apologized to the girl (someone had won the contest before her) the girl was a bit upset, but still intended on flirting with the man.

...

instead of flirting, the very neurotic girl yelled "what the fuck??!!" at the man. and began apologizing profusely. the girl was not one to swear often, but always avoided the f-word. she was, as the man told her, "a very naughty girl."

moral of this story? pray mark answeres the phone next time you call to win a shirt from steve's show.
 
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err...   
08:59pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: frustrated
"Currently listening :
Mercy
By Steve Jones
Release date: By 16 April, 1996 .. "

it got it last time...when the hell did that bastard shawn come into the picture?
 
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grr..argh...   
08:58pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: annoyed
can't find my steve cd. which, is rather upsetting, as i have "with you or without you" in my head...i've tried looking in other cd cases, but it's nowhere to be found. :(

nevermind...found him in madonna...



*blinks*



...meaning the madonna cd case. oh god, if i were to ever find the two of them going at it, i'd be all "jesus christ, steve jones and madonna! why in MY room? the two of you certainly have enough money to get a bloody hotel room! and what about guy ritchie?? and again, why MY room?" (on a random side note, i have seen the two of them "going at it"...regardlessly, not with each other...but rather with britney spears and a random brazillian chick....ima just stop right there and continue with what i was going to say before...)

crap. what was i going to say before? something about...ooh yes. now i remember.

i have a fun story to tell, but i can't tell it. why? because if i were to tell it and anyone was to read it, my reputation would be ruined. oh, it's not that bad...rather that it's sort of embarrassing... oh, i'll tell it like the fbi would...

i was .............. my .................. of .......... .........., and all of the sudden ...... ... ........ on air...it was awkward as hell...i can't ........ ...... with ...... if ...... ...... is .............

gotta love the government.... oh, i'm a bitch.

and for that, karma gives me the lovely image of...oh jesus christ. my virgin eyes hath been corrupted.

who the hell is shawn? they myspace thing says "mercy" by shawn jones...am i missing something? i'm pretty damn sure this is steve...screw it. we'll pretend i'm listening to "fire and gasoline"...

or maybe i'll go with madonna...

interesting factoid: "fire and gasoline" came out a months and 5 days before i was born, apparently.
 
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rollerskates, bruises, and neglectful lovers...   
08:57pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: geeky
negelectful lovers? what the hell? had i a lover (which, on the record, i do not) he would certainly not neglect me for a myriad of reasons...

a. i am very loud and it is hard to ignore me
b. "i won't be ignored, dan."

okay, so that wasn't much of a myriad...of neglect, seeing as i then chose to write about being ignored. anyhoo, i have a large bruise on my arse and another on my arm, so feel pity for me (seeing as i am, in fact, your future supreme ruler). damn rollerskates...although, today, i did roller-disco in the garage to the "oldies" station...and once again, fell on my arse. oh man, you know who'd be great to roller disco to? ... nevermind.

the bollocks.

here's.

the sex pistols.

i frigging hate how certain words come with association. heh. frigging.

in the rigging.

there was f*** all else to do.

bloody hell. (are those the actual lyrics of the song?). anyhoo, i am now a "narc". why, you ask? because, i told on the kids in the consumer maths class i t.a. for. *insert terribly stupid angel happy face* ( my eyes pulsate with love.) one of the "brighter" students was discussing how him and a friend were to "smoke a dube" in the afternoon, and the half-wit on duty (i have no clue where the actual teacher of the class was, but this woman is a helper and older than bob barker and dick clark combined...) asks "what's a dube?" and somehow, the kid manages to convince her that it's a cigarrette. just a plain, old, tobacco-filled, cigarrette. of course, me being me, i decide to tell her that it is, in fact, a street term for a cigarrette...containing a certain illegal leaf, we all know as marijuana. she was shocked and the kid continued talking about how he was gonna get "some reefer and smoke a blunt." after once again being convinced that he was smoking tobacco, i shock the helper again by telling him that her student is a pot-head and is, once again, using street-names.

what would the world be like without me? chaos, that's what. i just can't wait until the day that someone offers me some drugs while i'm washing my hands in the bathroom so i can be all "ooh, cool! i have $20 in my locker and will buy some from you. wait a sec..." instead of running to my locker, i will run to the office and have the administration or whoever bust that little bastard. pssh. that's what you get for offering me drugs.

"my eyes pulsate with love"? what is this, "tgs"? sure, in that, my head becomes disconnected and floats into a green background, and then my eyes pulsate with love (much to the confusion of my friend, mark)...but that's never actually happened to me. a. because i'd be dead and b. i don't have any friends named "mark." well, none that would accept my friendship with open arms and invite me to his annual pig roast or to the brisk of his first-born son...

i'll leave you with an excerpt from "tgs"...

me: raise your hand if you like me!
*only mark raises his hand*
me (with angry face): put your hand down, mark.
luff (with bitchy-eyes): but he thinks you're amazing...
*i get up and start to leave*
luff: well, at least someone likes you...

he doesn't care about me...
oh god, baby can't you see?

oh crap. i should lay off "rock n' roll swindle" for awhile... the enraged clam agrees...

what the hell? that's a "tgs" face!! that's my "tgs" face...the one i make when i'm pulsating with love!! they stole my already stolen art!! *shakes fist in "wrath of kahn" manner* MYSPACE!!!!
 
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give me a break.   
08:55pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: cynical
"WHO WANTS ME FOR CHRISTMAS?

;)


Now you gotta repost this as, "WHO WANTS ME FOR CHRISTMAS?"

The 1st person to message me saying "i want you for Christmas."... will be my myspace sweatheart... u'd
be suprised just who wants to be yours...You have to do this
even if you are taken or you will have relationship
problems for 40 years!!!"



this is a real bulletin i just recieved from someone. notice the part i bolded. if i do not make another bulletin, thus spreading this terrible one even more, i will have issues in relationships until i'm 57. now, i do not need a lame-ass myspace bulletin to tell me this. i know my own neuroses, cynicism, and other slight dysfunctions well enough to come to the conclusion that no matter how many myspace bulletins i pass on, i will always have relationship problems.

but perhaps this bulletin is looking to shorten my relationship issues from a lifetime to a mere 40 years? i doubt it.

i got another bulletin telling me (i kid you not) to tell my crush via myspace that i want him to be my first kiss of 2007, and if i do, he'll kiss me. now, what if my crush (if i even have one, that is) doesn't have a myspace? and, whatever happened to free will? just because he gets a message from me saying "kiss me damnit...a bulletin told me to tell you to do it" does not necessarily mean that he'd actually want to. nor would he be swayed by an online message.

i hate the holidays...



no matter how hard i try, i'll never be able to "play in a day the steve jones way". i originally read the title of that extra feature and got all excited. i was all "ooh. in a day i will become an amazing guitar player? woot!!" when i finally got a guitar, i tried and failed. it's been more than a day...and i can barely play the intro to "anarchy in the uk". but, the title says nothing about "playing guitar like steve jones"...it just says "play"...maybe he's a really good board gamer, and if i happen to spontaneously invite a friend to a game of battleship while watching that feature, i will win, thus sinking ashley's battleship. damn false pretences...
 
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who needs a subject when you're as cool as me?   
08:54pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: productive
and by cool i mean extremely neurotic and, apparently, boring. now, i admit, i have been aware for sometime now that i am neurotic and prone to overanalyzation of the strange incidences that seem to only happen to me (like losing ones pants in time square or getting caught changing in the boy's bathroom...). but today takes the proverbial cake. i, your future supreme ruler, am boring. well, at least when i'm nervous. after a certain time of day, like now, i am rather amusing, witty, and, dare i say? charming. (but not funny enough to be voted "class clown" it seems. because i hate babies. more about that later). instead of being cool, calm, and giving off the air of some intelligence, i use my experience from horrible elementary school field trips and ap american history to enlight others with my useless knowledge of a bloody rock and religious, native american massacring, brits. all in that high-pitched voice i use when i'm nervous (like, for example, when i audition for school musicals i don't get into).anyhoo, enough about that.

ONTO THE BABIES.

alas, it is that time of year when the senior class of 2007 choses carefully which students are funniest, most likely to succeed, and so on so forth. since there is no "most unique", "creative", or "most neurotic" category, i figured that i am a shoe-in for class clown. afterall, i am quite funny and am the author of a humorous, albeit, partially stolen, cartoon. but no. whilst campaigning for "class clown" during study hall, a peer of mine told me that she would not vote for me. why? because i hate babies. well, in my pissy mood, i told her that babies are parasitic little watermelon-sized creatures that a women shoots through a hole the size of a dime (or so i was told by my mother...) , and that she didn't understand my cynical and sarcastic humor because in her pubescent stage she is a romantic, which is quite sad for her, and thus, she is too young to comprehend the adult notion of cynicism. she then went on about the babies and god knows what else, so i raised my eyebrow at her and walked away.
i should also be a shoe-in for best-looking, but i suppose that my arse is too big and my negative countenance works against me.

and the fact that i hate babies, of course.
 
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refusal of sex and lack of the city...   
08:53pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: pensive
i had a great idea for a book that, in a witty and engaging, yet intelligent manner, gives the "don'ts" of life. i would call it "piddly diddly and other things you shouldn't do in the shower."

i am like the carrie bradshaw of cynicism and sarcasm (i even had a dream about manolos last night. i highly doubt they even make manolos in a size 11...which i'd have to wear, seeing as my feet don't fit into a size 10 heel, let alone a designer heel.) (and besides, i have an utter loathing of designer shoes...like gold cowboy boots with rhinestones that go for $135 on clearance)

oh god. i just had a feeling of "it's a sign." you know, when something happens, that, if you were a total idiot/a romantic, you take as a sign of the future. what did my sign tell me? my future mother-in-law is a drunk.

vince vaughn reminds me of a friend's drunk uncle that, during this friend's wedding, hits on you be making oral sex innuendos. and, he keeps offering you crumbly peppermint candies from his pocket.
 
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oh, i see how it is...   
08:53pm 19/01/2007
  in order for me to get comments, i have to be slutty. well, pssh. i am not willing to sell my body for comments. take that.  
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subject? who needs a subject when you're witty and amusing?   
08:52pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: drained
so, i'm going through earlier posts and looking at the subjects. simply because i am bored and coke'd up. (and by coke'd up, i mean i had 1 too many coca colas...). anyhoo, and what do i see? little happy faces near my moods. where did those little bastards come from? i certainly was not feeling yellow and stupidly happy whilst typing at the time.

heh. i've only recieved 6 comments total? that seems rather pathetic considering about 3 or 4 of those comments came from me....maybe i should consider the hankie on the head...

eh, i should stop being mean. afterall, mr. i-like-to-reject-other-people's-witty-and-amusing-comments was nice enough to deal with gabe in her quest to find me the perfect holiday gift (which afterwards, she immediately ruins by telling me about it...) so in that i should prolly thank him. not like he takes his time to read this anyway...

*insert much-needed "anyhoo"* i got the best idea for a tgs last night. i needed to share that. my issue is, it revolves around me and my electro-collared best friend going to work...and i don't know what to do with the rest of the squad. (kill them...kill them...)
 
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emulation of an idol and all that good stuff...   
08:51pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: apathetic
i have decided that if i want to be taken seriously as a musician, i should put stickers on my guitar to take away from the fact that i cannot play. people love a good image and thus, things to stare at. i figure, if i give them a nice union jack sticker on a cheap epiphone les paul jr, they'll respect me as a guitarista (even though i fear that in my actions, i am in direct violation of the idol emulation clause. (which by lawyer speak for the fact that steve jones looked cool with his stickered-up guitar...and people like him (pssh. just look at his myspace comments. hell, he has to reject comments sometimes (believe me, i know...) (wow...so many little side parentheses comments)))).

now, i'm not saying that a sticker of the british flag will make me a good guitarist. on the contrary. it will simply make me look cooler and people will give me many a myspace comment and message.

or perhaps i am wrong. maybe popularity is not directly proportional to how many stickers one sticks on their guitar...maybe it has to do with wearing hankies on your head and swearing on tv...that's a thought.

i think i should just stop writing now...
 
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pssh to the rhythm...   
08:50pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: thoughtful
it's happened. gloria whatsherface warned all of us about it. the rhythm got to me.

no sooner had i posted my last blog that i decided that i needed chapstick. at this time, mind you, i was listening to the bay city rollers. and then it happened.

next thing i knew, i was air guitaring on my bed and lip synching to "i only want to be with you." it was intense and incredibly disturbing. the rhythm took over and i was headbanging and pelvic thrusting. (apparently though, i can air guitar on my knees and lay back onto my legs. did not know i could do that until now... needless to say, my back is killing me).

yes, well...i'll leave you at that.
 
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seriously...who killed bambi?   
08:49pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: bored
it has come to the point where i am quoting myself. like i am some great pontificating source of godliness that is destined to be quoted. which, incidentally, i am....a god, that is. or goddess seeing as i was not born with man parts.

goddesses do not confuse periods with commas. some people do. those people are to be punished severely. most likely with much spanking and slapping across the face. i sound like a dominatrix (which, i am not, thank you very much).

i believe that i've lost my copies of "the dating game" which, in itself, is sad, as i have a pantload of material for a fifth. meanwhile, in the realm of stolen cartoons, "teen girl squad" is a smash and a half, what with the trading cards and eventual t-shirts (all of which are poorly made and given freely to those who care).

i think i'm done now...

i have about 50 funny things i could say right now...well, actually, i have 2. but that doesn't matter. but the point is that i won't say them, in fear of demolishing some people's creative endeavors. and lack of ability to rhyme properly (not that i'm some sort of poetic genius myself...but i know good poetry when i hear it). and that i wish not to share that i still sleep with a stuffed rabbit, baby blanket, and a t-shirt. which i just shared. ah well, it's not like anyone actually reads this anyway...

pssh. let's see if myspace's cd archive has what i'm listening to now...

damn, it does. i now feel slightly less special. yet happy. music makes me happy.





who the hell reads books whilst writing witty blogs?
 
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damn the teddy bears...   
08:48pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: cold
...and DAMN THEIR PICNIC. there. i said it. someone needed to. the madness must cease.

if i had a dime for every time a guy sang something like "ooh, i love you" and all that stuff at me, i'd have many a dime. if i had a dime for every time this comment was directed towards me specifically, i'd have half a dime. i was named after billy joel's "uptown girl," christie brinkley. yes, well, i don't want to get into that...

although currently, i am being called a bitch. and am being clapped at. which i do NOT appreciate. no one claps AT me. they clap for me. and my general successes. or they would if i had proper friends who worshipped my garbage and fingernail clippings. i should find some friends like that. or perhaps rekindle my relationships with the posters on the wall, who, incidentally, have all claimed to "love" me. or have invited me on a submarine mission...which can be like love. if you like submarines. or are deeply infatuated with johnny rotten. which i am not. anyhoo, or they have let me know that they, in fact, live by the river. i've never lived by a river, but i hear you get great views...probably not in their case...

more anyhoo...i need a fly swatter of some sorts. i've been using "the great rock n' roll swindle." yeah, not a good idea. so, either paul cook grew a moustache without first notifying me, or i need to clean this off, and bad. not that he'd have to notify my first. it's called "free will" and all. and, it's not like i'm his overbearing wife. because, that'd be creepy. in continuing with earlier statements...as i am not deeply infatuated with paul cook.*

*a second ago that sentence read "as am i deeply infatuated with paul cook." thank god i have a keen eye for typos...

i like that "make font smaller" button thing.

*okay, either i've deja'd this vu, or i'm on "music repeat"...i think i get that steve jones is, in fact, a lonely boy. which, i find to be untrue. as, during this scene in "rock n' roll swindle", he is making sweet, sweet, love to that girl in the gold panties. or perhaps this love-making is unfulfilling. like, he's trying to fill an empty hole with meaningless sex with a girl in gold panties. and the girl in the movie theater. and the brazillian girl. so maybe this movie wasn't about finding the swindle (or whatever it was about. because, i still hath no idea). maybe it's about finding yourself and what makes you happy in a world full of sex, rock n' roll, bearing your ass, and giving people like me the opportunity to make puns about "really seeing sex pistols" (that joke never gets old). deep.*

*yes, well, as we can see, it is far too late. it's come to the point where i'm finding the deeper meaning in "the great rock n' roll swindle" and playing therapist to people i've never met/prolly already think i'm a headcase without this further evidence. yeah. i need to go to bed...just not yet. :)

speaking of holes in the souls and other things that rhyme and whatnot, what i need is another kitten. i miss ms. kitty fantastico a lot. she was my friend. and my companion. and due to the fact neither of my parents could keep her when they split, she was taken to the animal shelter. *sigh*. if i got a girl kitty, i'd name her ms. kitty fantastico. again. becuase the first miss kitty was really named "chaos"...if it was a boy, i'd name him sid. for the hell of it. because, *sigh* i am not deeply infatuated with sid vicious.

my speakers are now sexually harassing me. bad speakers. well, it's not fully their fault...by a series of mouse clicks, i basically told them what to say. must let them random play...and i can't stop laughing.





oh, and i'm not deeply infatuated with glen matlock either. but it's really difficult to randomly bring him up in musings...

infatuate ( P ) Pronunciation Key (n-fch-t)
tr.v. infatuated, infatuating, infatuates

To inspire with unreasoning love or attachment.
To cause to behave foolishly.
Possessed by an unreasoning passion or attraction.


okay, this is strange. out of all my cds i put on my computer, i hit the "random play" button and get steve jones each time. who i am also not infatuated with.
 
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oddly enough...i feel inspired...   
08:47pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: giddy
the "odd" part be-eth the origins of the inspiration...

"i close my eyes and see you before me
think i would die if you were to ignore me
a fool could see just how much i adore you
i get down on my knees, i'd do anything for you"

"i touch myself" is arguably, one of the funniest songs ever. but minus the knees/doing anything innuendo for...uh "going to the movies"...it hits a bit too close to home...only...

"i close my eyes, and eventually fall asleep and dream that you smell bad and are driving my sister to the park.
'i won't be ignored, dan.' (minus the gratuitous sex, good movie)
even the kid who sat next to me in driver's ed got sick of you.
nevertheless, i wouldn't touch you with a 10 ft. pole. it's just my way."

there. that's better.

it says i have 4 views today. where did they come from? why aren't these people commenting, damnit? i mean, i almost lost my pants in the middle of new york city for christ's sake!! yeah, and i was wearing my large red knickers (which are like granny panties...but red). come now, that deserves comments.

one of my favorite tgs quotes:
random football fan:"world cuppage contains most excitement"
me:"yeah, soccer is cool. uh, i mean football. yeah..."
rff:"who's your favorite team?"
me:"i asked you first"
"no you didn't"
"yes i did"
"no you didn't!"
"yes i did!!!"
"whatever. i like england"
"me too"
(flash to television: GOAL!!!)
me:"GO ENGLAND!"
rff:"they're not even playing today..."

there. scoff at my dumbness. or, my portrayal of my dumbness. but, i'm not dumb...just around strangers. i get nervous.

wow. my current music certainly tests my spelling skills...must...not...cheat.
 
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viva la resistance!!!   
08:46pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: aggravated
yes, well, i've been spending like mc hammer when "u can't touch this" became a hit. (i am also full of awesome saying like that.). i've bought a car. 'tis a toyota paseo. and i love it. yet, cannot drive it, as i can't drive stick. ooer, and i bought my little epiphone les paul jr. love that too. the only thing i can play on it is "smells like teen spirit"...but i've only had it a day. bloody hell, people. i'm not a damn miracle worker. :)

oh, and i finished driver's ed. this morning. much excitement there.

man, i forgot how cool the who is. i soooo want to see them in september. i mean, come now, my last concert was in 2003. (although, i should've saw bowie when he was in boston...but that's a whole other story.)

this morning i said "groovy" and almost followed that up with "far out". 6 hours of the "brady bunch" is too much. considering i don't even LIKE that show. damn bradys. reminds me of 9th grade algebra...someone (i think it was alicia) had a shirt that said "mrs. brady" on it. it took me a few months to realize that she did not, in fact, wish to be florence henderson, but instead married to athlete tom brady. go figure. but i can say that in those confusing months, i thought she was completely insane. it'd be like wearing a shirt that said "mrs. cleaver" on it. who the hell wants to be barbara billingsly? no one.

i need to make a new "dating game" but i'm all idea'd out. although, i did get a WICKED good tgs idea the other night. but i can't make it yet, as the 3rd season hath not yet started. go figure....

it makes me feel less feminine knowing that joe namath wore pantyhose and i do not. there's something wrong with one of us, and it's not me.

give me something/someone to hate, and i'll be back into the swing of things.
 
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cactus coffee and the no-tell motel....   
08:45pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: lazy
ah yes...still no subscribers. damn it. at least this time i actually am doing what i say i'm doing...and that be-eth listening to blondie. yeah. don't make me do the "rapture" rap for subscribers...because i will.

*yawn* i am so bored. doing the rap anyway...i can't help myself. nor can i explain. *sigh*. i want to see the who in september. which would make it 3 concerts i've been to. woot. but, in serious, people need to stop dying. i'll never be able to see the ramones or the clash, and that's upsetting. BUT, i saw the sex pistols which was bloody well amazing and could've only gotten better had i gotten backstage passes. tcha.

i am offended that my favorite movie ("clueless") was turned into that horrid campy telly show. this morning was the first time i had seen the show in years, and i was pissed. i mean, come now, they didn't even try to make the show good. and there are plot holes. they changed laurence's name to sean. yeah. he was only in 1 bloody scene in the movie, so they felt the name to make him not only a main character, but a total idiot. bloody hell.

anyhoo...i don't think debbie harry realizes that i do not, nor ever will, speak french fluently. i speak spanish fluently, yes, but my french is very limited to telling people that they are too cute, inviting them to sleep with me (damn you "lady marmalade"), and ordering chocolate ice cream.

crap...my blondie cd ended and now i am listening to "lonely boy". because, you know, i haven't listened to that enough yet...

...i need to find my blondie underwear. just because you needed to know that i had a pair. they say "sunday girl" on the bum. because you needed to know that too.
 
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cactus coffee and the no-tell motel   
08:44pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: lazy
ah yes...still no subscribers. damn it. at least this time i actually am doing what i say i'm doing...and that be-eth listening to blondie. yeah. don't make me do the "rapture" rap for subscribers...because i will.

*yawn* i am so bored. doing the rap anyway...i can't help myself. nor can i explain. *sigh*. i want to see the who in september. which would make it 3 concerts i've been to. woot. but, in serious, people need to stop dying. i'll never be able to see the ramones or the clash, and that's upsetting. BUT, i saw the sex pistols which was bloody well amazing and could've only gotten better had i gotten backstage passes. tcha.

i am offended that my favorite movie ("clueless") was turned into that horrid campy telly show. this morning was the first time i had seen the show in years, and i was pissed. i mean, come now, they didn't even try to make the show good. and there are plot holes. they changed laurence's name to sean. yeah. he was only in 1 bloody scene in the movie, so they felt the name to make him not only a main character, but a total idiot. bloody hell.

anyhoo...i don't think debbie harry realizes that i do not, nor ever will, speak french fluently. i speak spanish fluently, yes, but my french is very limited to telling people that they are too cute, inviting them to sleep with me (damn you "lady marmalade"), and ordering chocolate ice cream.

crap...my blondie cd ended and now i am listening to "lonely boy". because, you know, i haven't listened to that enough yet...

...i need to find my blondie underwear. just because you needed to know that i had a pair. they say "sunday girl" on the bum. because you needed to know that too.
 
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my wittiness just went into my new blog title. (fascist tyrants and secretaries with too-small noses   
08:43pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: bored
yet another attempt on spreading my fabulousness via online.

*crickets* ah yes, this is going oh-so well.

okay...things to complain about...

well, not gonna touch the facist tyrants and secretaries with too-small noses. although, i recently won against both. oh how the mighty hath fallen.

"never mind the bollocks, here's more teen girl squad: volume 2-the second season" comes out soon...let me know if you want a copy. (i'm e-mailing it out this year...i made over 30 2-5 page comics, and i am so not printing it out). next year, i have to think of a shorter title. oh, and for those of you who want to catch up, i have "musings of your supreme ruler and teen girl squad: the first season" on my computer now, and am willing to e-mail it.

my mum just got a new camcorder (do they call them that anymore?) and i think i may start my own action figure/barbie series...and it would consist of vampire slaying, punk rock playing, alien hunting, galaxy saving, sex, and the city. wow. that sums up my geek-ish collection of toys. (buffy, angel, x-files, and star wars figures and custom sex pistols and sex and the city dolls). i have no idea though what any of them have in common, so it's all still in production.

right, so if i get any comment/subscriptions for this, i'll continue, and be much more sarcastic, cynical, and funny.


quote of right now "...yeah, he cried like sally field when she got the oscar."

i promised myself i'd watch "filth and the fury" to tear myself away from reciting "sid and nancy." someone needs to stop the madness.
 
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i am no longer able to eat lucky charms...   
08:42pm 19/01/2007
 
mood: bored
...my ocd has gotten a tid-bit worse...i feel the need to separate the cereal from the hearts, stars, horse shoes, clovers, moons, pots of gold, rainbows, and red balloons; and then eat the cereal itself followed by stuffing all the marshmallows in my mouth and singing "ziggy stardust". (well, the david bowie part isn't ocd...it's just fun.)

anyhoo, on to why i am doing this...
alicia said i have to post a thingy with 6, not 5 or 7, little-known factoids about me. well, this is hard....
1) i can't hula hoop. i've tried and tried but i just can't. physically, i should be able to...my ass is large enough to stick a tray on and serve cocktails and shrimp with...but nevertheless, i am unable to hula hoop
2) i can't dance. have you seen "the fish"? case and point. (if not, ask me...maybe i'll do it.....MAYBE)
3) half the movies i refer to i've never seen. :) i have this thing about knowing what a movie's about, who's in it, how it ends, and being able to quote it....without seeing it. for example, "silence of the lambs."
4) this one SHOULD be obvious, but some people still don't get it, i am half black. when your father is black and your mother is white, you are thus half black. jesus christ, people.....
5) i am very self-centered and narcissistic. so much so that i quote myself in a little notebook. yeah...
6) i almost lost my pants in times square on last year's new york trip. the pants were too big, and i don't own a belt. you can guess what happened.

there. i'm done.
 
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this lion's innards are looking...SOO GOOD!!!   
08:50pm 19/07/2006
 
mood: accomplished
successful business woman? check
great hair? check
an "in" with a celebrity/crush? check/check
winner/expert on ramones songs? check/check
a fabulous look-in-making? check

it's great to be me.
(yes, i am cocky, but i will share the story of my new-found success)

in a nutshell, after a week of failure, i finally won a t-shirt from steve. yes. it's coming and i bloody well can't wait. but that's not all, oh no it's not. he's also interested in buying custom sex pistols dolls from me (him and his co-dj guy were impressed with the picture of my dolls on my myspace). who ever said myspace wasn't for good?

oh, and not that anyone noticed, i showed up at a party this weekend looking utterly fabulous in my not-so-new-but-just-rediscovered-it ramones shirt. my lucky band of the week.

this may be a small snipit of the good karma life owes me. i don't want to get it all at once, but it's really nice.
 
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