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Friday, January 31, 2003
This is the last time I will ever say that it's the last time that I'm ever going to do something.
I really mean it this time.
2:45 AM
Thursday, January 30, 2003
A Shitty Situation.
INT. Bedroom -- Morning.
Bare walls, a dresser and a large computer desk fill the room. Clothes, books, paper, and other objects litter the floor. Matthew, a moderately sized college student, sleeps in his bed. Light breaks through the window despite the fact the shades are drawn. The digital alarm clock reads 8:30 AM. Matthew turns in his bed, groaning. He rises and walks to the door.
INT. Outside bathroom door -- Continuous.
Loud, disgusting diarrhea noises come from inside.
INT. Inside bathroom -- Continuous.
Matthew sits on the toilet, grimacing. We see him from the chest up. Various pornographic magazines are visible on the counter to his right. Pinups from teeny bopper magazines with fake quotes attached adorn the walls. He speaks to us while continuing to carry on his business.
MATTHEW
This is funny. This is really fucking hilarious. I had planned on skipping class today. I wasn't going to go because I hate Thursdays because I have to get up early and go to three straight classes and I hadn't done my reading for the first class. My roommates Dennis and Ryan have had the flu for the past couple of days, so the excuse that I'd contracted it from them made perfect sense. By the time Tuesday rolled around I would have beaten the bug and would have my reading caught up with.
He puts his head down and strains for several moments. He tears off a piece of toilet paper and wipes his brow, throwing it in the trashcan to his left.
MATTHEW (cont'd)
So I figured it'd work like a charm. I can stay up late and sleep all day and not worry about anything until Monday night. Then I wake up just now, and I feel fucking terrible. I'm sick. It just fucking figures. I got the flu because I was going to lie and say I had the flu. I'm not surprised at all. God's got it in for me. He's does this all the time. Not this terrible diarrhea shit, but he's played games before. For example:
EXT. Residential streetside -- Night.
Matthew 'walks the line' for two police officers and is later cuffed and stuffed in the back of their squadcar.
MATTHEW (V.O.)
I was only a mile from my house and I wasn't even that drunk when I got my DUI. That fucking figures. Thanks a lot God.
INT. Halls of a high school -- Day.
Books in hand, a younger Matthew walks past lockers and through crowds of students, each with a member of the opposite sex in his/her arms. They hug, kiss, etc. Matthew comes to his locker to find a couple having sex against it. He waits and they move. He puts in old books and takes out new ones, slamming locker door.
MATTHEW (V.O.) (cont'd)
Oh, and then the time in high school when I never had a girlfriend? Really funny God. Yeah, I know... irony. I get it, I get it.
EXT. Dirty snowcovered alleyway -- Day.
Matthew walks alone down the street carrying his books. He accidentally trips and falls face first into a large puddle of dirty snow and water. He lays in it, face down.
MATTHEW (V.O.) (cont'd)
The other day I tripped and fell in a giant puddle of mud. Don't try to tell me God didn't have something to do with that.
INT. Bathroom -- Continuous.
Matthew stands and flushes, washing hands at the sink to the left. He continues to speak to us.
MATTHEW
So then you gotta ask yourself, "If I hadn't planned on faking sick, would I be sick right now?" It's like the Chicken Vs. The Egg.
He turns to dry his hands, now facing us.
MATTHEW (cont'd)
Anyway, let's hope that's the last time I gotta go through with that shit.
He turns and walks out the door.
INT. Kitchen -- Continuous.
A small table covered with random things sits between Matthew and his room. A refrigerator adorned with pictures and magnets connects to the 'L' of a cluttered counter, itself lining the far right side of the room. Stolen dorm signs and cute pictures of teddy bears cooking pizza hang on the walls. The cabinets above the countertops display fun facts about South America. Matthew opens the fridge door, scanning the contents inside. He pulls out a large plastic liquor bottle full of water and takes a pull. He takes a moment to glance around the kitchen before going to his room. He heads toward his door, but something on the table catches his eye. There on the table next to a large box of broken bottles and fiberglass sits an empty plate of cookies, crumbs still attached. He's in shock. The camera pulls tight on the plate, and then on Matthew. His head is spinning.
INT. Living room -- Previous night.
Two couches , a large chair, and a foosball table surround an entertainment system stocked with devices. A Christmas tree sits atop it, waiting to be taken down. Large paintings, signs, and talking animal heads hang on the walls. Dennis, a tall skinny guy with long black hair plays foosball with Ryan, a short gawky fellow with a shaggy mop of a haircut. These are two of Matthew's roommates. Watching them are Michelle, Jaime, and Rachel, girls from down the street. Michelle carries a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies.
MICHELLE
We baked you guys some cookies, aren't we the sweetest? Here try one.
Ryan and Dennis ignore her. They are wrapped up in their game. Dennis kicks a slow roller that somehow makes it past Ryan's goalie.
RYAN
Motherfucker! That's fucking bullshit!
DENNIS
Aha, yeah bitch, yeah bitch.
Jaimie and Rachel sit to watch, Michelle stays standing. Dennis proceeds to beat Ryan handedly, and he continues to beat the hanles with his fists and shout obsceneties. Matthew, from his room, laughs.
MATTHEW
Is something wrong Ryan?
RYAN
Fuck you.
MICHELLE
Gee, you want a cookie? They're really good?
The yelling back and forth from room continues, and Ryan challenges Dennis to a rematch.
MATTHEW
No thanks, they probably taste like shit.
Dennis and Ryan laugh, and then Dennis scores on Ryan. He curses. Michelle interrupts the game.
MICHELLE
Maybe if you were eating cookies you wouldn't get your ass kicked.
She holds out a cookie to him. He doesn't accept it.
RYAN
I don't trust you bitches. You probably put some shit in it. I don't trust you.
Michelle puts the cookie back down. Matthew enters from the kitchen, leaning in the doorway.
MICHELLE
Do you want me to eat one? You guys think we'd bake cookies and put shit in them? Look, I'll eat one.
She takes a different cookie from the tray and bites into it.
MICHELLE (cont'd)
Mmmmm. That's good. See I told you we didn't do anything to them. What would we do to them?
She offers the plate towards them again. The cookies are very soft and flat, and they've melted together in a way.
RYAN
They look fucked up. They're not natural.
MICHELLE
Yeah, I know. We needed more flour. I told Jaimie to get some.
JAIMIE
I'm sorry, I ran out.
They shrug and each take one. Ryan eats his, Dennis sets it on the foosball table.
MICHELLE (cont'd)
Want one Gee?
She holds one out to Matthew. He takes it, but doesn't eat it yet. He walks back to his room. The girls begin chatting about things, and Dennis returns to beating Ryan's ass in foosball.
INT. Matthew's room -- Continuous.
Matthew sits at his computer, reading and instant messaging to friends. The cookie sits off to the right of his mouse. He looks at it. He shouts towards the living room.
MATTHEW
Hey, that cookie was really good, thanks!
Michelle excitedly responds.
MICHELLE
Thanks! You want another one? I told you they were good!
MATTHEW
No I was just kidding. I didn't eat it; I threw it away. I just told you I ate it to be nice.
From the living room comes laughter. Matthew stares at the cookie some more, and finally takes a bite out of it. It tastes good. He eats it in two bites.
INT. Kitchen -- Present.
Matthew stands staring in horror. Camera pulls tight again on the empty plate of cookies.
INT. Living room -- Previous night.
Michelle holds out cookie to Ryan, Ryan declines. Camera pulls tight on plate of cookies. She puts the cookie back, and picks up A DIFFERENT COOKIE. She takes a bite.
MICHELLE (V.O.)
Do you want me to eat one? You guys think we'd bake cookies and put shit in them? Look, I'll eat one.
INT. Kitchen -- Present.
Camera pulls in on Matthew's face, in shock.
MATTHEW
The cookies...
INT. Matthew's room -- Previous night.
Matthew sits at computer desk with remaining plate of cookies in hand. Dennis and Kevin talk to Matthew while Matthew eats the rest of the cookies. Dennis watches with morbid fascination and glee. The camera pulls in on Dennis' face as he watches Matthew scrape the cookie from the plate. His eyes grow wide.
INT. Kitchen -- Present.
Matthew remains frozen, staring at the plate of cookies growing larger in his mind.
INT. Living room - Previous night.
Michelle hands two cookies to Dennis and Ryan. Ryan eats his, but Dennis SETS IT ON THE TABLE. Camera moves in for close shot of Dennis setting cookie on table.
INT. Kitchen -- Present.
Camera pulls close and tight to Matthew's face, until all we can see are his eyes wide in bewilderment.
MATTHEW
Dennis...
INT. Different kitchen -- Day.
Dennis, Michelle, Jaimie, and Rachel stand around a large bowl. Dennis throws handfuls of chocolate chips in randomly. Jaimie taps flour from a bag in small amounts. Rachel stirs with a large wooden spoon. Michelle pours continuously from a large bottle marked 'Laxative.' All four are laughing hysterically, looking back and forth from one another. The camera slowly pulls into the large bowl of dough.
INT. Kitchen -- Present.
The camera pulls back from the empty plate of cookies. Matthew stands, fully realizing the situation.
MATTHEW
Dennis! You fucking snake!
His hand loosens its grip on the water bottle, and it slowly falls to the floor. Water pours out all over the linoleum. It splashes his shoes. His concentration is broken and he jumps to attention.
MATTHEW
Shit! Goddamnit, motherfucker...
He grabs a towel and begins to clean up the spill, when suddenly he grabs his stomach, groaning.
MATTHEW
Oh fuck...
He quickly gets up and starts towards the bathroom, slightly slipping in the water but catching himself against the wall. He tears open the door and throws himself inside.
THE END.
5:15 PM
A Word Of Advice.
Breaking glass bottles is fun, healthy, and exciting. Just make sure that you do it in someone else' basement.
1:03 PM
Last night I worked from 4-7. That job really is great as long as A) I'm working by myself and there aren't any fucking yahoos talking at me and B) I can convince one of my roommates to let me borrow his car. The car really makes it a sweet deal because I can sit inside and listen to music, not to mention the fact that it shelters me from the cold. After work I watched Cry Of The Werewolf at the new Ross theatre for my film genre class. I came home and chilled out for a bit, then finally cleaned up the basement.
I hung out for a while, talked to some people online, and made some stew. Kevin's fiancee Sarah asked me if I'd made it myself, and I told her yes. The truth, of course, is that I merely dumped it out of the Dinty Moore can and heated it in a pot on the stove. She was impressed, and asked me how I did it. "Oh, it's not that much work," I said, "all I did was chop up some carrots and potatoes and throw them in with the beef. I could give you the recipe if you want." Kevin just laughed.
At some point in time Michelle, Jaimie, and some hot new girl named Rachel come over to say hello. I could hear them in the living room, as they are loud and obnoxious girls. I was eating my stew in my room so I did not go out to greet them, choosing instead to yell unpleasant comments here and there. I overheard that they had baked us cookies, and I shouted that I didn't want any. This of course brought Michelle into my room with a still warm chocolate chip cookie in her hands. I took it and put it on my desk, debating whether or not to eat it. "Thanks!" I said. I later told them that I threw it away and just said I ate it to be nice.
I tried it, and it was actually really damned good. Suprisingly good in fact, which prompted me to eat another. They were all stuck together on the plate, so you had to kinda break pieces off, but they were still good. The girls, Dennis, and Ryan made a trip to the porn store downtown, and they came back with squirt guns resembling penises, which they immediately began shooting at my face. They found these make-believe cockshooters so exciting it made me wonder if they weren't living out some sort of repressed homosexual fantasy with these new toys.
Well the girls eventually left, and Dennis and Kevin and I were up sitting around talking about Spring Break and things like that. I never really realized it was so late until about two o'clock, but by then I really couldn't sleep anyway. Hungry, I cleaned the plate of cookies. In doing so, I caught a queer glance from Dennis.
They went to bed, and I ended up staying up til around 5 editing pictures on Paintshop Pro and listening to music. My first class today was at 8, then I had one at 9:30, and then another at 11. I decided it was probably a good night to contract the flu from Dennis or Ryan. I'd send an email to my professors, I thought, and explain that our practice of kissing eachother goodnight finally came back to haunt us. They'd understand.
1:02 PM
Sunday, January 26, 2003
Two Conversations With People.
A gay conversation with Jake.
jake - Jake.
love will keep us apart - Me.
love will keep us apart says:
Nate says, "What are you doing?"
jake says:
nothing
jake says:
what is "Nate" doing?
love will keep us apart says:
"Ask him if he wants to come over."
jake says:
ok
love will keep us apart says:
"For some lovin'."
love will keep us apart says:
I think he wants you to keep him warm.
love will keep us apart says:
(winking emoticon)
jake says:
eeee....
love will keep us apart says:
He says he'll 'meat' you in his room.
jake says:
ha
jake says:
that is funny because of how it is spelled
love will keep us apart says:
It's a HOMOnym.
love will keep us apart says:
Haha... oh, that's rich.
jake says:
yes, yes it is.
jake says:
that is the snappiest retort i can come up with.
love will keep us apart says:
Snappy!
My screenname is a clever combination of Joy Division's 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' and The Smith's 'Love Will Keep Us Together.' I like the fact that both bands have songs devoted to such different messages, yet I can combine the two and retain all the negativity of the Joy Division song. Marilyn Manson is a fag. The Smiths are sweet.
Talking to Chaos on SoulSeek.
four50mizou - Matthew Reese.
gee76 - Me.
[four50mizou] you talked to a poster though
[gee76] I did?
[gee76] Who?
[gee76] What?
[gee76] Does that mean I'm drunk?
[gee76] Does that mean I'm stupid?
[gee76] Does that mean I'm a failure?
[four50mizou] nah , it just means hey man you talked to a poster
[gee76] Does that mean all of the above and anything I might add?
[four50mizou] you know how it is
[gee76] Yeah, I know the score.
[gee76] I'm down 28-3 at halftime.
[gee76] I should consider myself lucky I'm not getting shut out.
[four50mizou] thats true
[four50mizou] maybe you ll pull through in the end
[gee76] Not a chance, Lance!
[gee76] No such luck, Puck!
[gee76] No dice, Tice!
[gee76] I'm fucked, Steve!
[four50mizou] tice? whos tice
[four50mizou] hahaha
He's a cool guy.
11:44 PM
Sorry. I don't know anything about love. Let us never speak of it again.
10:31 PM
Saturday, January 25, 2003
I'd like to take a moment to brag.
The other night (Tuesday, to be exact) I was sitting around with some friends at their house talking and making jokes about eachother. It was Doug's 21st birthday so while he was on his barcrawl, the rest of us non-twenty-oners sat and waited for his drunk ass to stumble in the door and vomit all over us. It was a long wait, and it wasn't really worth it in the end.
Anyway. While we're sitting there talking, somebody said something to someone about that someone, and the someone in turn denied it. Eventually it turned into a case of somebody saying that the said someone said something that said someone claims they in fact did not say. So. It might have gone something like this:
Somebody: Hey Nate(We'll use Nate because he's funny), you're a big queer.
Nate: Hey! I'm not a big queer.
Somebody: Oh yeah? Well then why did you just say, "Hey! I'm a big queer!"? (This is a strong comeback.)
Nate: Hey! I didn't just say, "Hey! I'm a big queer!"!
Right about then, I say, "Oh yeah? Well how about we ask our little stenographer over here?" I motion over to the corner of the room where a piece of table furniture sat, and did an impression of a stenographer. "Yes," I said, "it was quiet, and then the red headed man there jumped to his feet and shouted, 'Hey! I'm a big queer!' That is all he said."
"Thank you," I tell the stenographer, and we then began to discuss the possibilities of actually having a personal stenographer, and envisioning scenarios in which owning a stenographer would prove humorous. We all shared a good laugh and eventually the subject drifted back and forth from the popular topics of shoes and partial birth abortion .
Then, the next night (that would be Wednesday) we sat around the television for the debut of Dave Chapelle's new show, Chapelle's Show. Clever title. I had been eagerly awaiting this show, and it proved to be just as hilarious as I'd anticipated. The final sketch, depicting a white supremacist author who is blind and is not aware that he is fact black walking around spouting every racist remark in the book, was fucking fantastic. It's too bad there aren't more people with the balls like Chapelle to put something like that on TV.
But It was another sketch that's got me excited. It started out as a simple husband and wife disagreement. Husband didn't do the dishes, wife was fucking one of her bosses, the kids were smoking crack. Something like that. Anyway, the argument turns into a who said what you said that oh no I did not say that oh yes you did oh no I did not yes you did you Goddamn bum Bitch I did not say anything of the sort I'm leaving you and taking the kids sort of disagreement. Finally the wife turns to (her own home stenographer (Hah!) and asks her who in fact said what (Yes!). The stenographer solves the argument and the bitch wife says (of course), 'I told you so.' The sketch then continued to explore funny situations dealing with home stenographers, such as a 'Travel Stenographer,' a midget who rides on a backpack so he's always there when you need him.
So the point is this: I thought up, independently, something that was used in a sketch (one that was funny) on prime time television. This means that I might just have the creativity to take me somewhere in life!
6:51 PM
Thursday, January 23, 2003
Emails recieved today:
Sender.............................Subject
Hollie Hartmann................Pete thinks Martha likes massive men.
Elvira Solis........................Katy wants to see you grow Tanya thinks.
Jeannie Chambers............Mary knows, Terry tingles at big ones.
Jane Bruno.......................Nadine thinks Delta digs the big dongs.
I think they're trying to tell me something. I didn't read them though.
5:46 PM
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Type Of Person # 48
The Guy You Know But Not Really And You Also Don't Want To Know Him At All.
This is the dude you met at that party the other night. The only thing you have in common with this guy is the fact that you were both at the same party the other night. This guy will say things like, "What's up dude?" or "What are you doin' this weekend man?" even though he might have forgotten your name. You're forced to carry on a conversation with this idiot for upwards of three or four minutes, all the while talking about bullshit you couldn't care less about. "There were some pretty hot girls there." he will say, while all you can think to yourself is 'Damn, I should have acted like I didn't recognize him. Goddamn. Next time I'm going to class by a different route.'
3:14 PM
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
I'm somewhat worried that I have a piece of glass stuck in my right eyelid. Not a huge chunk(although that's a funny mental image, me going to class with a giant piece of bottle sticking out of my eye), just a tiny shard. It hurts to touch, but I can't decide if that's because it's cut or what. I think I might let it heal and if it continues to annoy me I'll just have the entire eye removed. It'd be for the best. An eyepatch could only help in the ladies department, I'd assume.
Anyway there is also the chance that it's just a cut from contact with fiberglass. At one point on Saturday night we were tossing the remains of one of our manequins up and down the stairs at eachother and I impressed everyone by catching one of its legs with my face. Oh, the tricks I can do when I'm drunk!
12:06 AM
Monday, January 20, 2003
Last night on PFMS, Derek and I made a great thread. You can find the link here. Considering how much the board sucks lately, I'm quite proud of how it turned out.
6:57 PM
Weekend was pretty fun. We had some people over on Saturday. Bottles got broken. I surfed down the stairs on half a manequin. Good times.
6:54 PM
Saturday, January 18, 2003
OK, this happened yesterday...
I'm sitting in on some auditions for a couple shows that they're casting here at the university. Small stuff, nothing main stage. My acting prof is one of the directors, and he invited me to sit in with him.
I've seen about 5 or 6 people come in and do their monologues, and then in walk these two nicely dressed Mexican dudes. The lady in charge of bringing people in informs us that this is Miguel and his friend Don, or whatever the fuck his name was, and that Don will be videotaping Miguel's audition. Don sits in front of me and gets out his camera, and Miguel stands infront of the directors, not quite sure what to do.
First thing I notice is Don's hair. It was fuckin' awesome. He had short hair, like a crew cut or something, but in the front his hair was much longer, and he'd styled it up into a point of sorts. It was really Goddamn goofy, and he looked sorta like John Turturro. He turned and looked at me and gave me a toothy grin, and I told him I loved his hair. Miguel was starting.
"I'm going to tell you a story from my country, and a friend of mine write it down for me, and now I tell it." This was obviously not a prepared monologue. He spoke in a very thick accent.
"So there I am, sitting at my home. My family is around me. I look around and I see my family, and I'm happy. I have all that I could need. I am a happy, and I have everything I wanted. Then, I have my girlfriend. She is so beautiful, I love her very much. She is all that make me happy." He continues to rave about his girlfriend for a while, pretty much repeating how beautiful she is and how happy he is. He's happy.
"Then, I decide I must to go on a business trip for a few weeks. I go to this trip, and I am not afraid that something will happen to my girlfriend. I love her very much, and I know she love me too. But then, I come home from my trip, and what do I find?? SHE IS IN THE ARMS OF ANOTHER MAN! They are hugging and doing the kissing and they are very much in love and I can not believe this, I am no longer happy!" Then, he falls to his knees, arches his head back and throws his fists in the air.
"WHY?!? WHY MUST IT HAPPEN?!! WHY MUST IT A HAPPEN??!?" I'm fuckin' speechless. Then he quickly gets back to his feet and regains his composure.
"But, I learn my lesson well. Now I see my friends, and the same thing has happened to them, I decide to help them. I will be there for them, for I know it is a terrible thing what has become! This way we will show the girls who are wrong!" He concludes his last point by stabbing his finger in the air triumphantly.
"Thank you for this opportunity," he said to the directors, taking a bow. Don packed up his shit and I gave him a couple thumbs up as he and Miguel walked out of the room. I just sat there with my mouth open. That was the coolest fucking thing ever.
I couldn't stop talking about it to this girl that was sitting next to me who is also in my class. The best part about the whole thing is that you know Miguel is going to send that tape to the fuckin' bitch that ripped his heart out. Man, that was so awesome.
4:43 PM
Almost three weeks into the new year and my resolution is already laughable. Last night went over to Nob Hill and then to the Monkey Card house. Nob Hill gives our house free beer because they're suckers, but we did let them use our tap. It's always funny when this situation comes up, because we go over fully expecting free beer, and then we have to face Kip, Shauna's boyfriend. Kip doesn't really like us that much. It's great because the girls always have to talk him into letting us drink free, and he's always standing there sorta supervising the whole free cup arrangement. We're usually able to talk them out of at least another free cup for a friend.
After Nob Hill, I caught a ride with Tab over to the Monkey Card. I was pretty drunk by now, but I mingled and said hello to everybody there. Those guys are pretty fuckin' cool. I played a few games of P & A, and actually won one round, which is pretty fuckin' amazing considering how intoximacated I was. Then I got this great idea. I went over to one of the couches in the living room and laid down.
I wake up to this kid from my honors english class last year sticking some liquor bottle down my throat. I was sobering up, so I sorta sat up straight and said hello to some of the people still there. My ride and most everybody had left, and it was pretty late. I go to scratch my head, and feel this thing up there. It comes off, and turns out to be a piece of bread which at first I thought was covered with butter but was later informed that it was actually mayonnaise. I removed another piece that was slabbed onto my hair and went to wash myself up. What a creative prank!
I hung out for a little bit more, and then managed to call 475-RIDE. I was using some phone on the coffee table and for almost half an hour I couldn't figure out the right number. I kept dailing 472 instead of 475 for some reason. Finally I ask Adam who's sleeping across the table, "What the fuck is the number for 475-RIDE?" He kinda mumbled something but then I realized what a fuckin' idiot I was and got my cab ride home.
Tonight we've discussed having a party for Ryan's birthday. Hmmm. Maybe we can get a keg of O'Doul's...
8:39 AM
Friday, January 17, 2003
I skipped my second class today because I kinda felt sick and wanted to come home and sleep. Of course, I always tell myself that I'm coming home to sleep, but I always end up doing something other than sleeping. Anyway, I luckily caught the bus just as it was leaving the Temple building, and I was the only person on. The bus takes me to the main pick up/drop off point on campus, 14th and Vine, and a whole shitload of other students crawl onboard. I usually try not to sit by other people and make attempts to discourage them from sitting next to me, but for reasons I'll never know this hot chick sat next to me so I didn't really mind. It might have had something to do with the fact that it was the last available seat.
So, the bus is pretty full. I just stare out the window and listen to some song in my head that's been stuck there all morning. This bitch a few seats behind me won't shut up.
"Did you know there is actually a town named Friend? I mean, Friend?! That's gotta be the crappiest name for a town ever!"
"Oh why oh why does it have to snow? I don't get it. We always get all the snow. My cousin and his family never get snow."
I looked back to see who she was talking to and to find out if she was hot or not. I think she was talking to some Asian boy but I couldn't tell because there were a couple people in my way. She was blonde, dressed nicely, attractive enough.
"Aren't you excited that it's the weekend? I just don't know what I'm going to do with all the time!"
"Blah blah blah I'm an annoying bitch punch me punch me punch me punch me punch me punch me punch me..."
Then finally, she starts talking about weird people she knows.
"Oh God, that guy was so weird! What did he say to us that was so weird? I can't believe that I've forgotten it; it was so weird!"
"I swear, this school is full of psychos and schizos. My roommate's friend is a total psycho! She was talking about carpools or something last night. God, she's a psycho."
"There is the strangest boy in my Chem E class! We were trying to find the formula that we needed to mix this and that and something else and this guy just starts saying '4.3.' And he keeps repeating it over and over again! Then he's pretty much yelling at us saying '4.3! 4.3! 4.3!' I was like 'What a total schizo!' I said to myself, 'Nope, definitely not sitting by that boy again.' God, what a schizo!"
Finally, I just turned around and said, "You don't even know the meaning of the word, so shut the fuck up." and turned back around. The girl next to me was looking at me, frightened sort of, and nobody said anything. I just kept looking out the window. Finally she started talking again, but softer, probably to the same Asian guy. When I got off the bus everybody was looking at me through the windows as it drove away.
The best part about it was that I told her to shut up while we were still on campus, and for the most part nobody said anything for the next few minutes until we came to my stop. It was quite a satisfying feeling to say that. One of the best things I've ever done, probably.
11:46 AM
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
You might have noticed that I've updated. Does this mean I might update more often now? Keep posted and find out.
10:34 PM
Times are tough. Nothing seems to be going my way. Yesterday I paid $750+ in overdraft fees and bounced checks to my bank. My schedule of classes is fucked all to shit. Nothing seems to be going right. Then, tonight, I hit a new low. At first, it seemed like a beacon of hope. 'You have recieved an email from (unnamed good friend)' it popped up. Oh! I excitedly clicked on the window. Then I began to read.
Is this some kind of a sick game you have been playing with me....... I have been waiting by my computer for an e-mail from you.. just one would be nice.. i think i expressed myself very clearly in my last e-mail to you. you dirty fuck....... well you have lost me.. i am gone.. FOREVER!!!!!!! i am sick and tired of playing you stupid games with my heart... fuck you.. and you fuck your stupid beard,. and you ugly jewish nose........ fuck it all.... I am sitting here with a bottle of everclear in one hand and my penis in the other.. dreaming about you... and you can't even write me a damn hello e-mail... or maybe even a couple fucking forwards now and again. or maybe you had any kind of descence in your worthless fucking heart you could mention me on crummy dumbass, no-name,, peice of shit,,low life.. web fucking page.... you think you so cool.. "oh look at me I have a web page, and a beard," well you ships come in buddy... and where sitting here ready at the harbor....
fuck you forever
Your lost Friend
(name)
So that's it. This is the first time this friend has ever emailed me out of his own free will, not in response to an email I've sent. I just don't understand.
Oh God, why was I made to suffer so?
10:32 PM
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