An elegant solution.

This deep throes of depression crap is finally starting to affect my school work. Namely, I'm not doing it, and I don't care that I'm not doing it. Well, in one class I'm not. I have to do this thing [edit due to the "thing"'s boring nature] that was due last Thursday, and I don't want to, and more to the point, I'm not going to. At least not tonight. But I told the chap that I would. So, the obvious conclusion that I am led to is: I'm not going to go to that class tomorrow. And! since the class I have right after that is in the same department with a lot of the same people, and my assignment there isn't due until Thursday, I'm not going to go to that one either. That way, they may think I have a legitimate excuse. Which, in my sphere of understanding, I do. This means that I do not have anywhere to be tomorrow until 1 o'clock. Excellent. It'll be crosstitch and Cash for the rest of the... um... morning, I guess.

Isn't my life just so fucking fascinating?

Johnny Cash is pretty damn cool.

My current song of choice is his cover of "Hurt" from his new album, whateveritscalled.

Don't listen with sharp objects nearby.

[sigh ]

Best. Quiz result. Ever.

What's up frigidaire. You are
26%
pickup-able! You're cold and unapproachable, like a big glacier that's unapproachable. And cold. Unlike the Arctic tundra, few even venture to plant their flag in you. You're definitely not a Scorpio, unless you were born between October 23 and November 21. The bad news is that you'll end up miserable and alone, probably knitting doilies out of cat hair. The good news is that this is apparently what you want. Honestly, I don't even feel comfortable talking to you right now, so I'm just gonna go… yeah… wash my friend's hair.

Hee. I still don't know what they're talking about.

I don't seem to know any men.

I really don't feel like making an entry. However, I this is something that I thought about for the whole bus ride from my dorm to my class, so it must have seemed interesting to me at the time.

I've noticed that I never refer to any person of the opposite gender as being a "man". It's odd. It's just not a word I ever use. The terminology just doesn't fit in my brain. If anyone is so inclined, you can analyze this entry if you wish. Here are the ways in which I ordinarily categorize the males of our specie:

"chap" - a chap is any male person with whom I am unacquainted. Usually found in phrases such as "that chap" or "some chap". occasionally, I'll use it to refer to males I am acquianted with, but only if I'm being off-beat. ex. "What's up with that chap, anyway? He hasn't been around much."

"boy" - a boy is a male person with whom I'm acquainted. This has nothing to do with age, or age relative to me. They can be twice my age, and still be boys.

"cat" - a male person with whom I may or may not be acquianted, but who nevertheless I respect or admire.

I do categorize based on age, though. Older males will occasionally be referred to as "gents". The only requirement that one must meet in order to be called a gent is to have gray hair.

"guy" - when I'm to lazy to use cuter labels, anyone can be a guy.

To the best of my recollection, there has only ever been one person who I've been able to say was a "man" and not have it sound really bizarre to me. I'm not sure what any of that means.

For Steph and Jess, the dirty perverts.

[Begin Spoiler for Why oral sex is informative. — Highlight to view]

Bear in mind that this comes from the standpoint of evolutionary biology, where sex exists only to help you maintain a reproductive quota.

It allows you to assess the state of... um... things. As for instance, if um... things are not in good health. Diseased um... things are bad for the genetics business, not to mention bad for your um... things. It can also inform you of whether your partners um... things have been in contact with um... things other than your own. Generally, this is something one wants to be aware of. I'll leave you to consider how you can assess the one from the other.

IN CONCLUSION. Oral sex is a component of the forming of more complex social relationships. Essential to the growth and development of the human specie. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must clean my room, and do some homework.

I am such a prude.

[End Spoiler]

I love my spoiler tags. I'm so dumb.

A Buffy prediction.

[Begin Spoiler for speculation based on Buffy 7.17, "Lies My Parents Told Me" — Highlight to view]

Spike will kill Buffy. I will laugh. Also, I'm pretty sure that every post in the sticky thread would piss me off were I to read them. Best not tempt fate.

[End Spoiler]

Dieter is awesome. Seriously.

Here's a glimpse at why. 1. His course, Primatology and Human Evolution, for some reason, is on the approved Rutgers list of writing skills courses, meaning that it fulfills my stupid writing skills requirement, meaning that all my Rutgers non-major requirements have been met, which means the Muffin Lord can suck it! Um.

2. Today, we saw a film from which we learned (among other things) that the purpose of oral sex is to be informative.

Also, I made some flip comments about the sunlight the other day, but I really do hate it. Everything is brigther, and louder, and suddenly there are all of these horrible people everywhere. And they all suck. And everything smells more. And your skin sweats more, and your hands collect more grime. And there's bugs. And people who remind you of bugs. And 9 million unattractive girls exposing more and more of their unattractive bodies. If they want to stay cool, perhaps they should try taking off ten or so pounds of their unattractive makeup. And apparently, people lose their hearing, for they feel the need to start blasting music that I really had no intention of ever listening to. Sirs, I can tell that you're morons by the way you drive your supped-up Civic, I don't need the audio cues.

At the moment, it is a gorgeous day. I'm so glad I'm inside.

Some stuff kinda actually happened today.

Such is the peril of venturing outside. Alix Olson will be somewhere in the vicinity of my school on Thursday evening, which is very cool. Unfortunately, I need to be in Princeton seeing Fiction at McCarter at that time. And I can't skip it, because I have to write crap about it. Crap. Oh well. At least I've had "Eve's Mouth" stuck in my head since learning this. ....Should become neuron-decimatingly annoying soon.

Also, Wendy's makes fabulous salads. And the almonds come in a seperate baggie, so I don't have to eat them and die. It took me a long and confusing time to find this out though. Also, they had no potatoes. So I asked for freedom fries. Potato. You get it. Anyway, she asked if I wanted the $.99 fries, because the potato would have been $.99. She didn't seem to understand that I did not care about or understand anything about fry pricings. I just wanted a salad that wouldn't kill me and a root vegetable. She could have told me the fries were 5 bucks, and I probably would have payed it. I'm real laid back and gullible like that.

So, I've had a meal. I feel accomplished. Also, my first class on Wednesday will not be taking place, so I don't have to wake up until, like, 5. Score. On my way back from the Wendy's, I saw Katie. Fakest. Smile. Ever. She must hate me more now that she's not living with me. Which is find by me, since, in her absence, I've come to think of her as a real cunt. I don't even care if I'm right or not, I just think it's funny.

Speaking of which, here's a memo.

Memo
To: You.
Re: Why I have no idea who you are, but am incredibly suspicious of you anyway.

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!?

Thank you.

I hate sunlight.

The sun is like God's interrogation lamp.

Also.

I'm going to have to stop watching television. And listening to music. And reading. And talking to people.

Not that I do much of any of those. But I'm thinking it might be best to just stop entirely.

Lobotomies.

How much of your brain can they remove and still leave you relatively you know, alive? I'll have to look into this.


No more the Academy Awards for Amy.

Urge to kill... fading.

Rebroadcast Sunday. Acceptable. Also, mass quantities of Advil, also acceptable.

In other hilarious news, fighting broke out at the rally for peace. Ha ha!

I stand my homicidal rantings.

FFFFUUUUUUUUCCKK!!!


I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this. I cannot fucking believe this.

I can't imagine explain how fucking upset I am right now. Fucking 9 fucking goddamn shit fucking goddamn 53. WWHAT THE FUCKING HELLL!!!?!@ fffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fucking Christ!!@!

Do yoiu have any idea how much I do not give a shit that we are going to war? Do you have any idea? I don't give a fucking rat's ass. I want us to go to war. I want people to die. I want the earth to fucking explode, okay? This planet fucking pisses me off. I do not care about the lives of anyone, I do not care how many people will die, or how, I just FUCKING wanted to see the last FIVE FUCKING MINUTES OF FUCKING ANGEL YOU GODDAMN FUCKING SHITHEADS!!~

You are the fucking WB. &You don't care about the news. I don't care about the news. We have a beautiful, synchronistic relationship. And now I want to smash in my fucking television because of this fucking shit.

We're not even at fucking war yet., Nothing has fucking happened. I miss the no douct very dramatic conclusion of the only fucking thing I've been looking forward to all week for a bunch of assholes to tell me that nothing has happened yet,m but it will really soon, we swear ti God.

FUCK YOU!!!!@! If I wan ted to watch the fucking news, I'd be watching CN fucking N, wouldn't I? Do you really fucking think I would be watching the fucking WB if I was interested in the news? You know what? Fuck this shit. They better show me a huge fucking pile of really really dead bodies for how mad I am right now.

I can't even watch a fucking television show.

You have no idea how upset I am right now. I ...I can't even describe this. I'm losing my mind. I have lost my fucking mind. I cannot fucking deal with this bullshit. my head feels like it's going to explode. I'm going to have to smash it against something.

I cannot fucking believe this. By all means, start the fuicking war. Show me something blowing up. Please. Becasue I really need to see something right now that is more violent than I am.

I am not having a good day.

Remember when

the first page of the user list used to have a whole bunch of static users on it? Now it's just me. I am the only one not being upwardly mobile. I am the only static user on the first page. This makes me feel both arrogant and self-conscious. Are there people staring at my username wondering why the hell I'm still there? Are they filled with and unspeakable loathing for me for messing up the scheme?

Or am I the only person who could possibley be this insane?

Lie hags.

[Superhero identity] called me last night. She's adorable. Anyway, this conversation led me to the decision to make brownies. Since there weren't any adults to help me or anything, I decided to make those Toll House brownies, that you seperate along the pre-scored lines, and then just place and bake? Well, they say that this is all you need to do. However, the last instruction says that the brownies are done when a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Wtf? They didn't include a toothpick! This is outlandish. Anyway, I bested them. I used a knife.

This is, unofficially, the crappest entry ever. I should really go mail some letters and buy some apples. This of course will mean that I have to leave the house.

Shit.

Oh....... shit.

I was supposed to attend an acting function-a-ma-jig thing this evening, which I was pretty sure was going to be at 8 o'clock. Of course, now that it's 7:06, I realize that it in fact begins at 7. Well, screw that then. It's only forty-five minutes long, and by the time I dry my hair and get there, it'll be over.

This is so not what I wanted to make this entry about. I wanted to make an entry about how great my ass is.

In conclusion, Delle's a slut. And I love her.

Memos

To: Everything

Stop fucking changing, dammit! It's confusing the fuck out of me.

To: One Time Angels

If you're going to write songs with intelligent sounding lyrics, please do one of the following: [-] have the lyrics online somewhere, or [-] sing them clearly.

Your buddy,
Amy

ehhhhhhh

I can't wait for there to stop being tomorrow.

Oops.

I meant: I can't wait for it to stop being tomorrow.

How clumsy of me.

Excellent.

Never let it be said that you cannot teach yourself 8 weeks of course matierial in 12 hours.

I've noticed a strange phenomenon. I'm the type of person that shopkeepers tend to call "sweetheart". Perhaps because of the whole big-eyed-about-to-burst into tears look I have going on. Or, maybe, I'm just that damn cute. I wish these options were more conclusive.

Also, I like having healthy, shiny hair, but it makes it difficult to discern which of my hairs are gray, and which ones are just really shiny.

I have the most bizarre problems.

Oh and for crap's sake.

I know who wrote the PM. Man, do I feel better than everyone.

And Soupy, I love you dearly, but I feel the need to comment: "People who feel the need to bitch and moan about the board off-board are chickenshits. If you have something to say about the state of the WD, you should be able to say it on the WD."

That really doesn't make any sense. I mean, I bitch about the WD all the time, and I post never. If I were to say, have a phone conversation with another member of the board and we got onto the subject of the WD, I wouldn't really find myself saying "Gee, one of us should really hop online and transcribe this for the whole board!"

[eyebrow]

Jupe the Talent Scout strikes again.

Right click, Save Target As, Voila.

Yield & Survive
Rose Carnation
Unleaded

I was such a messed up yet artistically talented child.

Stay tuned at the end of the entry for your chance at a free giveaway!

So, um... as some of you may know, my parents are getting divorced and my house is being sold and I'm moving into a new one with my mother. There's no need for sympathy, I'm extremely meh about the whole thing. The only thing I'm not liking so much is that my mother wants to throw all the crap that we have amassed away, or worse give it away. Phh! She knows how I feel about giving! Anyway, so far today has been a day of bees (okay, one, but I'm deeply afeared of them, it wasn't pretty), dust, and cat hair. And my Allegra is at school. And my mother has 35 Elvis records. And we found these pictures of her when she was twenty, and she was far, far hotter than me. I should probably do something about that. We also found this skirt that she made in 1960 or thereabouts, and I'm keeping it, because she's cute, and it fits me.

My mother was also going to throw away the lovely framed wedding invitation of hers and my father's. I suggested that I would keep it, and said: "So I'll have something to prove that I was legitimate."

They thought I was being overly dramatic.

But I don't want my sister helping anymore. I don't want her telling me that I can part with my Barbie coloring books and my glued-together puzzles, and my Health book that I stole from school because they owed me, and I don't what to give my dolls to her goddaugther, even though I love her. Well, okay, that I'm okay with. Just as long as they don't go to veteran children or something. And no, none of my childhood craft projects are going anywhere except with me. Jesus, woman!

On spring break, I'm going to have to go through my closets, to sort things. Not throw things away, as my mother seems to think. I am keeping all my useless crap. My life is that crap.

And while cleaning out a trunk of clothes from the 70s, my sister suggested to my mother that instead of giving them away, she could probably make some decent money by selling them to vintage shops in the city. I like this idea. But neither of them is actually willing to go to the city to do that. Don't they understand that I like that idea?? More with the giving. It's just ridiculous.

We're going out to dinner for my mother's birthday this evening, so this packing crap better halt soon.

Anyway, here's the important part of this entry. Somehow, this item wound up in a box of Christmas cards - when my friend Jennifer and I were in 6th grade, we made this picture on a piece of paper, called: "A Rather Wild Death Scene at the Grand Canyon". It's a full page original creation featuring some dumb hippy being attacked by some fantastical creatures as an inept park ranger tries to save him. It also features a squirrel in a headlock, avian antics, renegade mules, vultures, carnivorous rabbits, and rabid bears. It's great!! I've been looking for this forever, it is one of my treasured childhood memories. I was thinking of shufflin' over to the Staples and maybe getting it color copied. After having this idea, I have decided that any person (so long as I know you, and don't hate you) who would like to have this treasured piece of memorabilia can have one sent to them, er, by me. I figure this would be a great gimmick to finally start reciprocating all the letters and crap I've gotten from other people. I'm ever so slightly tired of being the jackass that never writes back.

"Dear Diary, today I woke up at dawn...

... and mocked the mothers of my enemies for giving birth to them."

The preceeding is a line from Russell Simmon's Def Poetry Jam, which I went to see tonight. It was better than I expected, but I still wouldn't say that I liked it. There were parts that I liked, and parts I didn't really care for. The line was in a poem by the Asian Dude. I'm not doing names. He had some excellent lines, such as: "We are programming your websites, making your CEOs look smarter, and we are getting into your schools for free!"

There was a chick from the Middle East, and she kind of reminded me of Jenny. Possibley because she seemed all graceful and poised and articulate. She kind of didn't fit in with the rest of them. By which I mean to say that she was better. She had a poem called "Exotic" that I thought was just.. neat.

There was also a girl from Jamaica, who would have made a much better Kendra than Bianca Lawson. She was a dyke. She was cool.

As a special treat to you the reader, I'll omit, from my journal, the reasons why my day was such that I wanted to die. As a matter of fact, let's just forget I said that last part. Look over there, some monkeys!

I am a really crappy friend. If I were less crappy, I'd probably use this space to apologize for being such a crappy friend.

On 4/03/00

I stated that this was my life philosophy:

"...Sometimes I feel I've lost so much I have to find new things to lose. And I think there must be some divine point to it all. That when we die, it will all become clear, and we'll say, 'So that was the damn point!' And sometimes I think there's no point at all, and that's the point. All I know is, most people's lives are a great disappointment to them, and no one leaves this earth without feeling terrible pain. And if there is no divine explanation at the end of it all, well, that's sad."

I fliched it off Eve's Bayou, which is a movie I absolutely love.

I was pretty deep for a kid, yo.