"I feel pretty. Oh so pretty."

Oh, media. You never fail to scare the shit out of everyone with your over-exaggerated viewer-hungry displays of destruction. Have I ever told you how much I hate you?

And that's why I'm watching "West Side Story". I rebel with musicals. That's just how I roll.

... and I think I'm anemic. I'm exhausted and feel like my knees are going to give out if I don't get food every hour or so. Which is generally bad.

Just saw "The Corpse Bride", which was... a movie. The story had a good pulse and clay-mation is always fun. Ehh... I have no soul. Don't blame me for my indifference. But here's good news! Though tissue might deteriorate after death, and friendly maggots may live inside of you, cleavage goes unaffected. *thumbs up*

Cornell is beautiful. Like wooded mountains, plunging gorges, gothic architecture beautiful. It turns me on and scares the crap out of me. Simultaneously! Now I understand why so many people stay in the safety of Texas after they graduate. I feel like such a pussy.

I love you all. I hope everyone is safe and happy and all that good stuff. And that's all I've got.

Run away! Run away!

Let the fleeing commence!

To Mecca!

Cornell Cornell Cornell Cornell Cornell Cornell... *craps pants*...
Four days of basking in ivy league glory and struggling not to kill my parents. It's like a trip to the holy land... for atheists.

Huzzah!

(Translation: Lisa is going to visit Cornell for the next four days. She is very excited.)

"Everytime I come around yo' city bling bling..."

I'm so loooooooooonely... and full of apple pie *rubs stomach*. And just for the hell of it, I've decided to make a new list of things that piss me off. My hate can be assimilated to taste buds; changing every seven years (and by "seven years" I mean "every other day").

List List List


Competitive Whining - Listen. When I want to bitch and moan about how my foot hurts, I don't need you to tell me about that one time in 'nam when you got your entire leg hacked off. The fact that your pain is clearly worse than mine does not make me feel better. All I wanted was a smidgen of pity, not your condescending empathy.

The Media - Has there ever been a time when I didn't hate them? Manipulating and milking every fucking tragedy that they can lay there hands on. There is so much over exposure in the first week of a news story, that the viewers OD and stop giving a shit after the initial thrill of destruction ends. I blame the media, because I can.

Excessive Giggling - It's not cute anymore. Stop it.

Excessive Gigglers - You know who you are *glare*.

Bill Maher - Bill Maher is a man who makes a living by widening the gap between Republicans and Democrats. Sitting around bashing Bush and trying to out-yell your opponent in calls for truth and righteousness is not politics. It's entertainment. Just like Bill O'Reilly and Crossfire and Anna Nicole Smith. I swear to god, if America's leaders start getting choosen on the basis of who can yell the loudest, I will pack up and move to Canada. Nunavut calls to me.

Cocky Under-classmen

The Word "Crysanthemum"

...

and The Number 4


... in other news, I stumbled upon this really kick ass 2 man acoustic comedy/folk music thing called Flight of the Concords (P.S. this link is pretty useless, but it's the only thing I could really find). It's basically a New Zealandian Tenacious D with a little more weed. Plus! one of the members looks like the offspring of Nick Cathcart and Elijah Wood... with a nose job. Nummy.

*cough* loser *cough*

This video offers me comfort in that I now know someone out there in that big wide world we call planet earth is a bigger loser than me. But his tricks are still pretty cool.

Lonely!

I feel all empty... and stuff.

This is what I get for locking myself in my room all weekend with a book. A sad book, no less. The Time Traveler's Wife is the most wonderful scrumptous ooey-gooey jizz-worthy thing peice of goodness, but don't read it if you're pathetic and lonely. Like me. *sad face*

So now I'm just kind of... brain dead, which isn't much of a shift from the past few weeks. The creative fountain has been running low for quite a while, and all I've had to offer the world is bitchiness and spontaneous bouts of weeping (sorry about that).

And now!...I'm going to go pull something out of my ass for creative writing, slap it on an 8 x 11" sheet of paper, and see if I can pass it off as adequate.