daydream disbeliever

Mad Ramblings From a Blithering Idiot
2001-11-13 06:28:15 (UTC)


I am bored so I am going to do nothing but type my
musings Larry King style for the next while or so. Here

J didn't work tonight. I'm kind of glad, after the
disturbing incident yesterday. I still don't know whether
he was secretly scoping me out or a potential member of the
five finger discount club. I haven't told anyone about
this, and I don't think I will, unless it's S. But she's
in the photo lab now so I don't talk to her much, even
though we're in neighbouring departments.

Why doesn't anyone send me any messages/feedback? I
made my journal public so someone could help me reassure
myself that I'm not completely fucked up. I've gotten a
grand total of two, but that was ages ago. Oh, well, I'm
not here to tally messages and run a circus side show. I'm
here for therapy and self-realization.

Wal-Mart radio has played Christmas carols since the
day after Halloween. It makes me sick. I think every
holiday should have its place in the sun. Why have a damn
holiday if people refuse to celebrate it properly? Oh,
yeah, I forgot. We're all whores to capitalism, being
pimped by the government and our own corrupt greed.

I watched "Snatch" after work this evening. Very
good, but seriously whacked out. Need I mention that Brad
Pitt and Benicio del Toro looked veeeerrry nice? The plot
wasn't half bad, either. Heh. I'd like to see "Lock,
Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels" now. Guy Ritchie should
make more movies.

I went through a brief Brian withdrawal period the
other day. I wrote to L while in the throes of it:
Lisa, what is my problem? Brian was
online...the first time I've seen him on since THAT DAY.
He didn't message me, just as I expected, and of course I
didn't message him, either. Just seeing a sign of him made
me want to experience it all over again. Not him, but the
feelings he evoked. What he made me feel is like a drug
that I'm addicted to but I can't seem to get another hit
and I'm suffering withdrawals. I'm like a crackhead or a
heroin addict. Keep in mind that I don't miss HIM, per se,
just how he made me feel. If I could meet someone that
made me seem to be more Kerry than I ever was before, I'd
be ecstatic.

Was I ever feeling sad that day. He came online and
my heart jumped up to my throat and my stomach suddenly
felt like a vast pit. I long to message him and ask him
just why he is such a bastard. However, I won't call him
or message him. Ever. I am not a clingy little girl. I
just miss feeling wanted and loved, is all. Enough about
that and on to...

M will be sixteen in just a few weeks. That is so
difficult to believe and I feel ancient. I don't think
I'll get her anything, though, because she gets to go to
France in March and I do not. Nah, I'll get her a big old
hug. It's free and it's the gift that keeps on giving, heh.

I can't find Kid A or Amnesiac anywhere. Jbug claims
that she hasn't seen them but I think she's lying. I want
to find them-I need my Radiohead fix every now and then.
They're releasing a live cd soon and I think I'll buy it,
since I'll probably never see them in concert.

Speaking of concerts, I hope I can get tickets to see
Weezer and Tenacious D on December 5. I've never been to a
real concert before. I know that's pathetic-nineteen years
old and she's never seen a concert-but I can't help it.
That's right. Fuck you, and your snickers too.

I need to lose weight. That little plan I dreamed up
a couple months ago fizzled on the first day. I just need
to take those Metabolife pills again, then my problem will
be solved, almost.

I like my glasses. Mom says they make me look
younger. I now look 15 instead of 16, heh. With my
contacts and a faceful of makeup I still look like a
sophomore in high school. I suppose I'll be grateful for
this trait someday, but it's pretty annoying when someone
always mistakes you for someone much younger. For
instance, when I was nearly fifteen someone thought I was
eleven. Yep, that's right folks, eleven. I still like my
glasses, however. Wearing them will help alleviate the
scratches in my corneas. Or is it corneae? Hell, I don't

It's time to go. It's been fun, but I'll get you next
time, Gadget. Until then I remain the one with the fistful
of air as you artfully dodge my clenched, shaking hand