I don't know what's going on.
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Thursday, February 27, 2003
I recently recieved a spam email from a mailer named 'Funny Junk.' The subject of the email? 'Little girl dies in car wreck... MUST READ!'
11:07 PM
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
When I auditioned yesterday, there was a section on the sign-up sheet that asked me if I had any special talents, like dancing or singing or eating glass. I wrote, "I can fake cry really well if somebody hits me on the head with a hammer a couple of times first."
10:18 PM
Monday, February 24, 2003
Today kicked off National Eating Disorders Week here at UNL. They're having seminars, body bazaars, and booths in the Union. At one of the booths, they calculate what a real life Barbie would look like given hip size, etc.
Barbie in real life would be hot as shit.
Imagine 9 feet 7 inches of pure woman; her head three times the size of a normal head, neck twice as long, and her feet an adorable children's size three. Lack of ribs and stomach prevent her from menstruating, leaving her barren (and fellas, you know what that means!). To top it all of, her breasts would be so disproportionate to the rest of her body that she would be forced to crawl on her hands an knees.
Add that all up, and it spells HOTT.
I was walking through the booths with Lori whom I happened to run into while waiting on Nate for our lunch date, and this lady at a booth offered me a sucker. "No thanks," I said apologetically, "I can't eat candy." She smiled and responded, "Of course you can eat candy." Lori was laughing. "No really," I nervously answered, "I'd just have to throw it up anyway so there's really no point."
If I wasn't so busy with theatre shit I'd take time to make a shirt with a funny saying on it, and wear it to one of the seminars or 'body bazaars.' I'm thinking something along the lines of 'Anorexia Is A Conspiricy Invented By Fat People' or 'I Fuck On The First Date.' The latter really doesn't have anything to do with eating disorders, but it's a shirt that I'd really like to have.
10:43 PM
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
You know, most people don't like getting kicked while they're down, but I tend to enjoy it because it means that somebody out there is thinking of me.
Times are tough, and nothing seems to be working in my favor. I'm not really enjoying my classes, and I think I've lost all confidence in my ability as an actor. Frustrated, I check my email in the vain hopes that someone I know has sent me something that doesn't pertain to enlarging my genitilia. I don't expect much, but... wait! What is this? An email from Ross Anderson? 'Wanna be friends??' he asks. I'm excited!
From : Ross Anderson
To : broncosfan51@hotmail.com
Subject : Wanna be friends ??
Date : Tue,18 Feb 2003 21:21:16 PM
Attachment : MyProfile.scr (45k)
Hello,
I just came across your email ID while searching in the Yahoo profiles.
Actually I want a true friend 4 life with whom I can share my everything.
So if you are interested in being my friend 4 life then mail me.
If you wanna know about me, attached is my profile along with some of my
pics. You can check and if you like it then do mail me.
I will be waiting for your mail.
Best Wishes,
Your Friend.
A true friend 4 life! Something I've dreamt of ever since I saw that movie Stand By Me. Finally my prayers have been answered! I hurredly click on the profile, anxiously awaiting the pictures and facts about my new best friend. But then...
The file is infected with a virus, please choose from the following options.
Oh fuck! Oh no! W32/Yaha.k Virus Found? Fuck! Fuck email! Fuck new friends! Fuck you! Fuck everybody! I don't need anything from any of you! Don't offer me help! I don't want your Goddamn viruses. I'm fine by myself; I don't need some bullshit 'friend 4 life.' Just fucking leave me alone, I was doing just fine before you emailed me.
9:57 PM
Friday, February 14, 2003
It's been raining all day.
5:07 PM
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
The Custody Battle Game.
With all the recent hype about Joe Millionaire and nonsense talk about how reality programming is ruining television, I figure it's as good a time as any to jump on the bandwagon. So I thought up this game show.
The premise is pretty simple: a man and wife currently in the process of getting divorced compete to decide the custody of their children. It'd be like Dismissed, only instead of two jerks trying to snag some hooker it'd be two desperate parents using every trick in the book to try and win their children's favor. The winner would recieve an all expenses paid vacation to Disneyworld, cementing them as the #1 parent in the minds of their sons and/or daughters. The loser might get a microwave. Occasionally, social services would step in and put the kids in a foster get up, leaving both mom and dad sad and empty handed. This would add an element of risk to the game, as well as save money by not having to fly anyone to Florida.
It'd work because you just know there are tens of hundreds of families that would jump at a chance to be part of it.
Excited man: "You mean not only do I get to show up that cheating whore of a wife and take my kids from her, but I get to do it on national TV? Where do I sign? Disneyworld here we come!"
Angry woman: "I'll show that cocksucker. I show him in front of the whole damn world. I'll cut off his fucking balls right in front the kids. See if he tries to get fired again, that nutless, no job having little faggot."
Wife: "Honey, I just don't know... I think we could try to make it work."
Husband: "Peg, we've been through this. Part of me wants to believe you're right, but it's over."
Kids: "Let's go to Disneyworld! Yaaa!"
The show would be a hit, I just know it.
3:09 PM
Monday, February 10, 2003
Type Of Person # 17
The Captain Of The Loud Table.
This is the bitch with the voice like a loudspeaker. She eats at the same dining hall or restaurant as you, and regardless if she's way on the other side of the room or two tables away, it always seems like she's sitting right beside you, vomiting her ridiculously stupid shit right into your ear. She talks forever about a guy she used to think was "cute" until she saw his room. "Oh, he's such a slob! He's so slobby!" She thinks that just because she sits with more idiots that laugh at what she says, she needs to say it loud enough for you to hear. Then she'll start to argue that not only is he a slob, but he's also, yeah, get this... gay! "Now look," she'll say, "I know that gay guys just aren't sloppy, but he really is gay!" They won't believe her though, so naturally she'll have to increase the volume of her voice, because talking loud always makes you right about things. "I swear to God!" she might repeat, "He's gay with Eric! They moved in together." You wonder why they don't believe her, as loud as she's speaking. "I'm telling you guys, he's a slob and he's gay. When I looked at his bathroom, there were cumstains all over the place!" It's always great to hear the word 'cumstain' as you eat your Whopper. "Gay guys jerk off a lot. They do, I swear it. He jerks off all the time, I mean, look at the cumstains!" You only wish you could. "But now he's dating that one girl, whatshername. The fat one. The one that gave him a blowjob in that back room of the party two weeks ago." Mmmmmm.... cumstains, fat girls, gay guys, and now blowjobs. Burger King never tasted so good. "It wasn't a blowjob," reminds her friend, "it was a handjob." Oh, even better! "Blowjob, handjob, what's the difference? The point is that he's dating a fat chick, and everybody knows that gay guys date fat chicks." You didn't know that before you sat down, but you do now. Good thing she was speaking so loud, otherwise you might not have heard her!
4:05 PM
Sunday, February 09, 2003
Whenever people say, "There's more to life than money" or, "Money is the root of all evil" or, "Money can't buy me love," I just laugh, because they're all wrong.
3:09 PM
Valentine's Day Stalk Off: Day 1.
So we went to the mall yesterday. Ryan and Dennis turned out pretty much as expected: all talk. Dennis decided that he was content to get his creep on all by himself on a bench next to Spencer's Gifts, and although Ryan tried to stick it out in the end, he failed to select a prospective date. I think I might try and convince him to give it a second shot, but the outlook doesn't look so good.
I decided on a cute employee from The Buckle. She has short black hair and a small stud in her nose, if any of you might know who I'm referring to. After gathering the gumption to engage in conversation, I don't think I really made the creepiest impression, what with her giggling the whole time. At one point, Nate called and asked if I was "doing it right now." I told him that he'd "interrupted us" to which she responded with a laugh, probably because she was deathly afraid for her life. I tried in vain to get her name, but for the time being I'm going to have to refer to her as 'Buckle.' All the employees' name tags simply say 'Buckle', and when I asked her if she was the president of the store's daughter or relation, she answered, "Yeah, he's my dad. My name's Buckle."
More news as it comes in.
9:05 AM
Saturday, February 08, 2003
Paycheck time! I'm gonna go out and blow it all on shoes.
GROSS EARNINGS.
__Current: 20.43
__Year to Date: 61.29
Less Deductions
__Social Security: 1.27
__Medicare: 0.30
Retirement:
__Basic Plan 0.00
__Suppl SRA 403(b) 0.00
__457(b) Addtnl 0.00
__Fed Civil Srv 0.00
Other Deductions
__Bad Attitude 1.45
__Poor Appearance 3.18
__Stealing 0.76
NET PAY: 18.86
Man, what a fucking joke my job is. I work three hour shifts, maybe twice a week. I only really work about an hour of that shift, towards the end. The first two hours are spent reading, listening to music, and fantasizing about getting off work. Don't get me wrong, it's a great way to make easy part time money, but I need more than easy part time money. I think the problem with the job is that I just can't take it seriously. I'm a fucking parking lot attendant, for Christ's sake. It's like when you take those tests in high school that tell you what you'll be when you grow up. You fill out the questions and then use those fancy magic pens to highlight your future occupation. Parking lot attendant is what you get if you turn the test in blank.
1:19 PM
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
Women: You can't live with them, and you can't fit 'em in a sack.
10:15 PM
Monday, February 03, 2003
Tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of my life.
1:14 AM
Sunday, February 02, 2003
I've decided to subject myself to further ridicule and registered at a place called mockoutclub. I guess it's a spin off of makeoutclub, only the point is to make fun of the pictures other people post. So if you register you can call me gay and I can tell you to get a haircut.
10:29 PM
Saturday, February 01, 2003
The First Annual Valentine Stalk-Off.
Today is the first of Febuary, and that leaves exactly two weeks until the 14th (providing that my arithmetic is correct). Most everybody knows that the 14th is Valentine's Day, a day when annoyed husbands, foolish romantics, and guys trying to get a piece are forced to buy flowers, chocolates, condoms, and other worthless shit for their respective partners. It's a reminder to the kid in class who nobody likes that the only reason he's getting cards in his box is because the teacher said everyone had to give everyone else cards if they were going to give cards at all.
So here is my idea: On Friday the 7th, exactly a week from Valentine's Day, my roommates and I (along with anyone else who wants a part of the action) will go to the mall and each pick out a girl that we've never met before to be our 'Valentine.' We aren't allowed to leave the mall until everyone has at least one lead or piece of information about his girl. Then, we stalk. We stalk, and then we stalk some more. The person who's gotten the farthest by the 14th wins something special, like a gift certificate. By 'getting the farthest' I don't mean running the bases, but rather any sort of progress made in interest of stalking the Valentine. This could be a late night phone call to her house followed by heavy breathing, mail from her mailbox, photographs of her sleeping, articles of clothing from her closet, what have you.
Email me if you're interested. It's going to be great, providing I can convince my roommates to participate. I'd hate to have to go to the mall all by myself again this year.
3:35 PM
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