Why does my stupid lazy cheap evil whore of a grandmother have to sleep in this house? Why was this sprung on me? I wish they would all die so I can go in there and fix myself a midnight snack and watch ATHF. Motherfuckers.
Categories: Vitriol
I am totally freakin’ exhausted, I helped one of my friends move today. With my amazing 3D Tetris skills, I filled the van to capacity with only one or two things that wouldn’t fit. I also earned a big bit of cash. I amost have $1000 saved up. Woohoo! I feel like it’s time to buy myself a present, but the only things I want are incredibly expensive. I’ll buy myself that CD by The Hacker that I wanted, Rêves Mecaniques on iTunes.
I love this CD! Or at least the first song.
My evil grandmother is here, so I have to painfully type that she is evil instead of doing it via voice.
Lol, when me and the other mover guy were unloading this chair for one of my other coworkers, she was all “You should start your own moving company, you could call it ‘nihilist moving.’” I couldn’t tell whether it was patronizing or not. I’ll just take it as a joke.
My mom called me today, she got back from her trip home unscathed. Cool.
I need to work on stripping the DRM off these mp3s so I can play them on my mp3 player. Well, I should go. When I do voice recognition, the sound card gets all weird it makes my music sound muddy and distorted and I really want to listen to this new album’s unadulterated sound. Hasta.
Categories: Ennui,Meditations on work
Sometimes I just want to tell people that IM me “Go away. I’m watching porn and forgot to change my satus to away.” but people get all weirded about about it because you haven’t talked to them in forever so it would be rude. Evil world.
Categories: Vitriol
Now everyone in my office knows about the Insipid Coworker of Doom’s blog. What would they think if they found mine?
It would be obvious who my crush was on…well, it would be a toss-up between two people. I keep telling myself that it’s only funny that she has a blog because everyone in the office hates her. But the truth is, it’s always easy to laugh at someone else’s thoughts.
Who am I kidding? I don’t talk about anything eloquent. I’m a self-serving idiot just like her. They would laugh at me. They would laugh at my pain. I’m only nineteen. They all have college degrees, even though they’re only three or four years older than me. One of them thought it was funny that I think that “every human endeavour is pointless.” They don’t get my nihilism. They just think it’s teenage rebellion. Maybe I just need to give up and be an optomist. But that would just be doublethink.
I guess I feel insulted that they never hang out with me, even though I know it’s implausible that we would ever do anything since I’m a part-time employee. And I can’t go to bars. We’re just at different stages in our lives, but I feel like I’m so much smarter than them. I know it’s just me being egotistical, but I can’t imagine living my life away in some hellhole like Crescent City. I don’t know. I guess they all have their reasons for being here. No matter how irrational it is, I still feel insulted that they never hang out with me, even though I really made no effort to hang out with them. I feel as excluded as the one that we supposedly all hate. They invited me over to hang out with them one time a long time ago and we drank forties. I’m such a cynic, I can’t force myself to believe that they actually wanted me company and that it wasn’t for laughs. I’ve just been fucked over so many times that I can’t trust anyone. I have no Jesus to forgive me. I should stop trying to make excuses. I should stop trying to talk about this. I feel snubbed by them, but the fact is, if we hung out…I don’t think I would have much to say to them. I know I probably sound incredibly egotistical when I say this, but I’m a book person. More like I’m an idea person. I don’t know. I feel snubbed, but at the same time I realize why we all never really hung out very much. I feel superiority towards them, but I know that I’m just as inept. I guess I feel superiority in my belief that life is pointless and meaningless just as the idiot finds superiority in his world where God is everything.
I should stop trying to debate this. I need to go to sleep. I need to stop caring. To stop this moral masturbation on my blog. To stop having people read this bullshit. I’m depressed because my car is dead, my mom is gone, my best friend is gone, I’m not getting any sex, and I don’t have a boyfriend. So there. I hate myself, blah blah blah. Off to bed.
Categories: Meditations on work
> Miss Kittin and the Hacker – You and Us
> Random Fischerspooner
> Random Peaches
> Random Meat Beat Manifesto
Today sucked. I’m going to owe my Dad $1800. I’m going to have to call the lady at the car repair place tomorrow and tell her that I want the rebuilt transmission with the six-month warranty. I’m going to go to Sacramento and sell it. Pay my dad back. Pocket the difference. Save up for a sweet computer.
I built the computer of my high-end but slightly conservative dreams on alienware.com, and it was around $3500. It had a dual core 3.8GHz processor with hyper threading technology. It supported DDR2, the new hella fast RAM. All sorts of bells and whistles. I can’t afford bells and whistles right now. Although I do have $800 saved up. I talked to my boss today about taking on some more work, and I’m going to do two new tasks, one that I will hate and one that won’t be hard at all. I’m subjecting myself to that task because I want to leave this town so bad.
Hopefully, I will be making about $400 per pay period. That will definitely allow me to move by Nine Inch Nails in September, but I might stay a month or so more just so I can buy myself a Vespa or car or something. Why did this transmission thing have to happen now? Now I effectively don’t have a car. I went to Wal-Mart today got a back pack, a bike lock, and I drink holder for my bike. I’m going to be riding it a lot. My dream is to be able to ride my bike to and from work, even though it is 10 miles each way. I would save about $180 a month, but I’m not sure if I would be able to live like that. I could definitely do it if I lived in town, but I don’t. At least I can blame all my problems on my father for living in this shithole in the middle of nowhere.
Fuck.
My mom left today, she was in hysterics. Well actually, she leaves at 4 a.m. tonight. But since I didn’t have a car, I had to get a ride home with her friend. But at least I am prepared for tomorrow. I’m going to ride my bike home from work tomorrow. I’ve got my backpack and my water bottle holder and my cell phone, so I’m set. I guess.
I saw Joe when I went to Wal-Mart. It’s so depressing to say goodbye to someone for ever and ever. You lie to yourself that you will send e-mails, but you just get so involved in the drama and bullshit of your life that all you can do is complain about yourself on your blog… Or at least that’s what I do. I can’t talk to the people that I love over the Internet because it gets me very depressed. I know that’s a very selfish way to act, but I just can’t handle it. I’m balancing school and work and all of these horrible things keep happening to keep me in this town that I hate so much and around people that I don’t like. I can’t take on the responsibility of being lonely too.
This is my epic battle against Crescent City. I will win or I will die. One or the other. And I know which one it’s going to be. I am going to fucking win. I’m going to beat Paranoia on trick. I am going to get a master’s degree. I am an atom and nothing can break me down. Fuck everyone and everything that gets in my way.
On the good news side of things, I did finish Survivor. I hesitate to say it, but I’m growing tired of Chuck P.’s repetitive writing style. The book was great, but he just can’t break out of that flow. It’s fun for the first hundred pages, but I was just annoyed towards the end. He was just repeating random shit, like graffiti on bathroom stalls. What the fuck was the point?
I feel like a failure because I don’t have my car. I might not be able to take my kitty to Brookings to get his stitches taken out. I might not be able to see Amanda this weekend. Eh, fuck it. I’ll ride my bike out there if I have to…but it’s the ride back that creeps me out. It would be all too stereotypical to get run down by a drunk driver at 2 a.m.
I guess all of this is just fallout from the fact that I actually am deeply sad to see my mom go. Since we had that talk on the way to Bandon, I feel like I can really relate to her.
I’m all she has in this horrible world.
I’m so tawny. I had this raging erection at work today, it would have been so embarrassing had I had to get up. My mind was racing with all the hot guys I’d fucked and the ones I had yet to fuck. It really doesn’t help that I have a huge crush on one of my coworkers and with my brain being filled up with half-remembered scenes from pornos, I half-believe he’ll see my hard-on and just blow me right there in the office. I hate how I’m just a slave to my endocrine system. I hate how with enough sleepdep, porn and reality fuse into one hazy, ersatz peep show. I really want to become a eunuch, but my voice would get all high-pitched…and I heard it’s bad for your health.
But I can’t really think of another thing to take the place of sex in my trinity of passions: technology, sex, and literature.
Nothing really fits into that hole. Gardening? Maybe extreme sports, but then again I am very lazy and get into hysterics when I have injuries. One time I passed out at the sight of my own blood.
I really could feel the message of Survivor. We all have the same collective memory due to the television shows we all watched growing up, so everything we do is preprogrammed. There is no free will. Nothing is exciting anymore. It’s just another plot. More jamais vu. The only mystery left is death.
I haven’t reached that point, but I feel like it’s coming. Thirties perhaps. Maybe forties. That seems to be the age of all of Chuck’s characters.
My face is coated in a permanent layer of oil. I could fry chicken on my face. Billions of bacteria are using my face to fuck. That’s sort of hot, in a very…protozoan way. I think I’ll watch some porn. It will bring me out of this shitty mood and perhaps free me from a repeat of today’s embarrassment.
Categories: jamais vu,Melancholy,Nostalgia
Joe leaves for Portland tomorrow. We hung out tonight. It was kind of sad.
What’s also sad is that I found out today that my transmission is dead. It’s $1800 to replace it.
Categories: Ennui
My mom and I went to Bandon today. It was really nice, we got to have a good long talk about everything. I feel like we’re really close now. Tuesday is her last day here. She’s all sold on the idea of me moving now. I’m happy.
I had to clean up this big mess of shit my cat left me. Not fun at all. Now that room stinks. And I still have to sleep in there. Grr. I might as well go in there and get used to it. Must read Survivor.
But on the good news side, I’m hanging out with Joe tomorrow night and I’m hanging out with Amanda again this weekend. I think we’re going to watch I (heart) Huckabees or Team America.
I was lamenting today that I want an Intel-based Power Mac. I don’t want to wait until 2007! *pouts*.
Categories: Happiness
Okay. I need to write my own posts before I read other people’s entries. On the way home from Misty’s house I also was contemplating death and mortality. Mostly I was concerned about my blog and my web site and I really hope that someone be it my mother or something will keep paying my hosting costs (a paltry $7/month) and maybe blog one last post or something saying that I died and how I died. I would really want that. And put the URL in my obituary!!
And also, for the record… I do not want to be kept alive by artificial means. Keep me on the machine for one or two months or so if I might wake up, then just disconnect me. I don’t really know who would be paying my hospital bills though, so they would probably just unplug me from the start once they realized I didn’t have health insurance.
Oh yeah, I remember one more thing from last night’s get-together:
“Once you’ve seen one penis demon, you’ve seen them all.”
On the way home I started listening to the latest Garbage album Bleed Like Me and it brought back all sorts of memories about Ripley. I just keep wondering… did we actually have something? Was he using me? Does he still like me? If he moved out of his abusive boyfriend’s house, would we go out again? Does he still read my blog? The latter is probably the deciding factor in all the other questions.
I’m just sick of not being happy.
The visit to Misty’s house was not spectacular at all. The first 20 minutes of it she was watching a DVD of this retarded WB show about a doctor in some random Colorado town. The script was about as interesting as the shit I took a few hours ago. Slightly chunky and in two logs, one slightly smaller than the other, the show played on and on and on. The dialogue so contrived, unoriginal and puerile only Misty could find entertaining. So I vigorously made fun of it until the episode was over and I implored her to watch something else. I popped in Big Fish and she fell asleep halfway through it. We had almost nothing to talk about. I was utterly bored. I’m glad I’m home. But at least I have something to blog about.
I’m going to go read/go to sleep. Of course, there is a ubiquitous step that I have omitted. But in the spirit of last night’s two-hour conversation about dildos, I’m going to go jerk off! Woohoo!
At least I learned one thing today. If I really ever do have a bunch of semen on my pants in public, I can just tell people that my cat has this white medication that he got all over me (which was what happened today). Mouhahaha.
Categories: Gossip
> Marilyn Manson – Para-noir
> Placebo – Days Before You Came
> Eurythmics – Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)
> Basement Jaxx – Where’s Your Head At
> Moby – In This World
> Garbage – Temptation Waits
> Scissor Sisters – Tits on the Radio
I got done with work awhile ago, and now I’m bored and cruising MySpace. One me and my cousin’s enemies in Sacramento has now developed a taste for one of my favorite bands (Placebo). She needs to choke on a cock and die. I absolutely loathe cruising MySpace, because I inevitably find the profiles of the people I want to hang out with but they all hang out with my enemies so I know that it would be pointless to ever try to message them because if they hang out with people I don’t like then I know that once I got to know them they wouldn’t be as cool as their MySpace profiles suggest.
I keep feeling like I want to read, but I can’t seem to get out of this chair. I really want to use the Internet, but there is nothing to use it for. None of my friends are online.
I’m so bored and horny. Jeez..horny. That word is so–vulgar. Lol, in finding a synonym for an online, I came across its origin. A horn was once a euphemism for an erect penis. Lol. That is just not sexy at all. Oh yeah…poke me with your horn. That just brings back Rosemary’s Baby flashbacks. Creepy.
Great, Merriam-Webster has no synonyms for the word horny. I am too tired to invent one. I couldn’t help but stare at John when I was at Amanda’s house. But I must not even entertain such a notion. I could have better conversations with a blowup doll than I could have with John. The prospect of a convo with him does not seem enjoyable in the least.
Oh cool! Misty just called me. She said she’s been working a bunch of crazy hours and hasn’t had time to call me back. She wants me to come over, and I agreed. But after hanging out with Amanda and Sarah…
Let’s put it in an analogy. I love analogies! I got all of them correct on my SAT.
Hanging out with Amanda et al is to hanging out with Misty et al as a four-course meal in a French restaurant is to plain, unflavored oatmeal.
That was fun. If you didn’t get that, just give up. Apply at Burger King. Resign yourself to your meaningless, pathetic existence. But for the rest of you, you get double gold stars!
Sidenotes from last night from Amanda’s blog:
How can you not giggle when saying “Spleen”?
I guess I’ll just keep peeing and talking then.
Mank Ind.
We should totally get married.
For someone who has never done drugs, you sure like that carpet a lot.
That’s Gay! – You can’t say ‘thats gay’, thats against the gay rules! – Its MY word! I OWN THAT WORD!!!
Normally I can keep it up a lot longer than this.
Ooh! We can put an LED in there! It will be “Kris 2: Reloaded”
Porn should be free if it doesn’t turn you on!
The buttplug comes with a remote, and a beacon – to find it in the dark. ~what happens if you lose the remote?~ Install the clapper! ~That would be awkward in an operahouse…
Wow! That was a total Mentos Moment!
I love stuff. I love stuff SOOOO much.
Do you think that ceiling fan could be made into a bong?
That wouldn’t even be funny if it weren’t 3 am.
I’m a little manic from all the fun I had last night. I checked on Sukiaki (my cat) when I got home, he seems to be doing fine and he used the litter box (thank the gods). To tell the truth, I really don’t want to hang out with Misty since she ignored me for three weeks. What I really want to do is read Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and Survivor and go to sleep early. But I shouldn’t be so judgmental. I must keep repeating it in my head: Misty is cool. She cut my hair. Maybe it will work.
I should get this insipid chore over with.