Kenton Cohick

Insolent thoughts
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2002-11-07 07:02:52 (UTC)

First entry

I guess this is my first journal. I would have signed up at
Live Journal, but they have that whole "code" thing you
have to go through, and I think that's retarded. If I
thought it would solve anything, I'd write them a nasty
letter or something.

I recently bought a watch from my friend Jeff. Well, he got
it from a guy he works with (Mcdonald's). I paid $40 for
it, and apparently it's worth a hell of a lot more than
that. I believe him. It's a nice watch. I don't know if it
suits me though. It looks like something James Bond would
wear to a wedding, which is okay, if you dress like James
Bond. I dress like one of those homeless bag people who
pick up pop bottles. That's a little ditty that I call a
hyperbole. The point is, I don't dress very fancy. I also
don't do my hair. Some people have hair that looks fine
even when they don't do it, but not me. I'm just really
lazy. Then there's the arm hair thing. My arms have an
extraordinary amount of hair on them. I'm not really a
hairy guy, but my arms would convince you to think
otherwise. Again, having hairy arms wouldn't look too bad
if I had 24 inch biceps and looked like a lumberjack. As
you might have guessed, I don't. Anyways, back to the
watch. When I put the watch on, it gets surrounded in hair.
I try to tuck the the hair under the watch, but then that
usually ends up looking like the arm equivalent of a
combover. Despite all this, I've decided to keep wearing
the watch. After all, I did waste 40 fizoles on it. Fizoles
is the word my friend Angelo uses for "dollars". I don't
know if he stole this from a movie, but he sounds hilarious
when he says it.

Jeff is pissing all of us off. Last night, Mike, Felice and
I all went to the post-secondary fair that the school was
holding. We're in grade 12, and it's probably about time we
started thinking about options after high school and all
that other shit they've been pounding into our skulls for
the last few years. Anyways, the three of us decided it
would be really fun to go to the University of Lethbridge.
I live in Calgary, Canada, and Lethbridge is about 3 hours
away. It's a big party place, because it's a small town and
about 60% of the entire population are students at the
University. Felice's uncle says he would pay all the costs
for him, and my parents are willing to go the lengths for
my education. Of course, Mike's the most wishy-washy,
picky, pretty boy I know, so we won't know if he's coming
or not until the day of registration I guess. Anyways,
apparently as soon as Mike got home, he told Jeff about the
idea. Why he would do this, I have no idea, as he and Jeff
are mortal enemies. Of course, Jeff eats up the idea in the
same manner that he eats up everything else. He wants to
come, and he starts taking over the plan. Then Mike says he
doesn't want to come because he doesn't want to share a
dorm with Jeff. WTF? Why the hell would he tell Jeff and
then not expect him to want to come? So last night Mike
tells me he doesn't want to come because the course he
wants to take is offered right here in Calgary, for a
cheaper price. This would be a reasonable explanation, if
he hadn't just picked the course out of the air last night.
It's like he randomly pointed at the booklet and
said "well, I guess it's marketing then." He has NO IDEA
what he has to do, or what this course even offers.

I know I started that paragraph off by saying we were
pissed at Jeff, but I sort of got off-track. He always has
to be such a fucking ass to everybody and their dogs. Even
when he's nice I can't stand him. Let me paint you a
picture of him. Picture a five-foot-eight, 260 pound guy.
Yes, that's pretty fat. He's disgusting. He smells
terrible, and he thinks he's real hot shit. All he does is
yell at people and cut them down. He also has an incredibly
picky taste in women. Felice's girlfriend used to be a
model. A MODEL. Jeff saw her and said "she's not that hot."
I almost smacked him. HE IS NEVER GOING TO GET A
GIRLFRIEND. If he's looking for a centerfold with a fetish
for fat, mean, disgusting men, he's going to be

This entry has turned into more of a outlet for yelling
about my friends. Oh well, it felt good.