It is mine!

After months of searching... and scavanging... and poking around the most remote locations of the world wide web... I have found it! *maniacal laughter*

Jizzalty Goodness!

... and now I play the waiting game.

The Cornell application... is done. I really hope I get in. Not because it's a great college in a beautfiul location with oodles of potential for learning, but because I really don't want to fill out another application.

(To be continued sometime in mid-December... dun dun duhnnnguhdun.)

Wait... what?

Mmm... so we meet again, blog. What's that you say? I've been neglecting you? But I have a life, blog. I have places to go and semi-important tasks to undertake. Can't you understand that? I know you need commitment, but if you really loved me, you would get over your own needs and cater to my every want. I don't ask for much. Just a good sturdy place to vent and voice my luke warm opinions and emotions. And perhaps the occasional foot massage. Why can't you understand that? Why can't you understand me? What? No, blog, don't cry. You know how I hate to see you cry. There there. I know we'll work something out. Just you... blog, what are you doing with those hedge clippers. You've got that look in your eye, blog. I don't like. Just put those things down and we'll talk about it. I brought bon bons. I know how much you love them. Please just... no, blog! ah... guhguh... shickermuhkuh!!!! *homocide*

Yeah. I don't know.

It burns like the clap!

... writing college essays, that is.

I'm trying! Really I am. But everytime that I sit down and actually start writing I feel so... boring. The writing has personality and everything, it's just the message I'm trying to get across is really cloudy and over-used. It's like running in sand or something.

Damn you college! How I pine for thee.

P.S. Bellami gets "The Shizzle of the Week" award for introducing me to Death Cab for Cutie.

P.P.S. The Sims 2 = crack

And God said "Let there be pictures!"

... and there were pictures.


This is what happens when your father (who is a bastard) confines you to the house in the days following a hurricane evacuation. Apparently the city had a "curfew" and any man, woman, or child out on the road after 8 would be shot down on sight, beaten to death, and then burned and never spoken of again. Or so he told me anyway. So I dissected my Furby.


The remains.


And then I recreated "The Scream" in sidewalk chalk. Because I could.


Honestly, I had no idea I could do that with my face. And, by the by, the things on the plate were quite tasty (despite the fact that they look like turds).


Daaaaaaamn.


I heart this picture.


We all so pretty!


This banana was with us in the car for the 18 hour drive to San Marcos. Now that's what I call a solja. Actually, I've never used that word before now, and I'm fairly certain it has never been used in reference to fruit. And that's why I'm a trend setter... or just a dumb ass.

The Virtual Hissy-fit

*Screeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmm*... *rips out tuft of hair*... *rips out more hair*... *scratches at the newly made bald patches on head*... *throws lamp across the room*... *picks up shards of former lamp and gouges own eyes out*...*tears a phone book in half with her bare hands*... *lights the two halves on fire*... *stomps on the ashes*... *slashes some tires*... *throws some bricks through windows*... *more screaming*... *bites the ear off a puppy*... *spits said ear out*... *head butts puppy*... *punts puppy across an open field*... *poutes*... *curls up into ball in corner*.

I hate calculus.

"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?"

Damn that slutty slutty song and its tendency to get stuck in my head and force me to sing it aloud at inappropriate times to the dismay of my peers. Damn it to hell!

Today I'm feeling... particularly ugly. Of course, that is to be expected following another eventful search for pants. Curse you, thighs. Actually, if my thighs were to shrink (by the grace of some merciful god), people would realize that I was fat. And not just "curvy". So, in a way, I suppose these bad boys do serve a purpose after all.

I need someone to go get their nails done with me on Wednesday; that way I won't feel so spoiled. Plus, the friendly asians scare me. *blatant insecurity*

Don't cha? (Don't cha, baby) Don't cha?

Not to be vague or anything... but... certain people should certainly forsake their "higher education" in certain distant lands and get their ass home so that I don't have to spend my weekend with a bucket of Neapolitan and two soul-less engineers. *glare*

Here's a question: where did all this sudden drama come from and why is it always happening to everyone else? I want some unnecessary plotting and quarreling in my life! Share the wealth, bitches.

And now my brain is empty. End blog.