I can post anything I damn well please.

I was talking to someone about always making sure you get what you pay for just now.



Because they'll still want their money.

No title for this post, maybe the next one.

My history professor tells me South Carolina is the strangest state in the union, and I have to agree as I just got back from a road trip there.

...

I keep getting interrupted by the emergency exit alarms in the building going off.


You see, some people in college can't read.



EMERGENCY EXIT
Alarm will sound.


The staff have taken to taping messages on the doors pointing to the sign that says that right beside the door.


Read sign before touching door --------->

EMERGENCY EXIT
Alarm will sound.


So hard to understand.

Of course, in these people's defense, this building's layout is also really stupid.

There are stairwells at each corner of the building, and one in the center. However, the doors to the ones in the corners will set off the alarm when opened, so you can only used the central stairwell or the elevators, which are the slowest I've ever experienced.



Ex-roomate is a very good DJ and an all around cool guy.

I wish I'd got to know him better before he moved out, but we were both too busy.

That thought isn't going to go anywhere.


But this one will:

Some of my friends have livejournals, xangas, etc. I sometimes read, but never comments.

They're all intelligent people with depth and subtleties, but I



Delicacy


I feel that the style and content of their writing completely fails to reflect this fact.


jackass jackass jackass




Inferiority complex: I'll stoop to any level to bolster my self-esteem.

Maybe not, I think that there's two different points of view: I used it as a means to express myself and they use it as a tool. Different ways of thinking. Unless it's not, and they just don't write well.

It's not a sin. But using a/b for about and things like that are.

Of course, there are a lot of juries still out on whether or not I myself write in a way that could be called "good".


Wait, what am I going on about?

Express myself indeed...that thought's dead ending as well.



I had Bacardi 151 for the first time Friday.

Because each step in my descent into alcoholism must be carefully noted and logged so I can read it twenty years down the road when I'm wondering why I'm homeless and a junkie and say to myself:

I TOLD YOU SO


The first sip was alright, but the second nearly ended me. The next night, however, I was able to tolerate pulls from a flask with only a moderate amount of effort. It was a semi-formal banquet/dance type function (in South Carolina, that was the road trip [and ex-roomate djed, that's were that comes from]), and I ended up supplying all the people who came with me (7, six of whom were girls) from my flask.

It was great, I got to go in the girls' bathroom with them so I could pass it around.

That was the second time in my post 3 year old life I've been in a girls bathroom, the first time was on the day I graduated high school, everyone was making preparations for the walk and I decided to take one last stroll around the school in my cap and robes. I passed by the girls bathroom, noticed all the lights were off, shrugged to myself and went in.

Stall, stall, stall: nothing special, just like the speech I made at graduation.

Although someone told me I have a wonderful speaking voice.


151 produces an easier buzz for me to dance to, I shall have to remember that. There were only 6 people on the dance floor at one point, and I was one of them.

That never happens, I sit through entire dances and sessions at da club without participating.


Must have been the booze.

Also: friends.


I think one of them wants to not be my friend and instead be my girlfriend.

This is unfortunate.



That sounds harsh.




I used to be a tremendous flirt, but I've toned it down a great deal, so much so that it is actually shocking to people when I indulge myself. It's fun to give people lap dances when I'm drunk, but I don't really strip that much.

I'm trying to figure out a way to get her uninterested in me. An easier and more effective way than a simple I-think-of-you-as-a-sister is to sour the grapes.

Make her not want you and she won't want you anymore.


For example: make out with her, but very very badly. If she likes you because you're sweet, bite her hard when you kiss, just make sure she doesn't like it. Call her by someone else's name, be gross, whatever.

Subtle? It might not work for females, but it'll work for me.

I'm very good at maintaining the status quo.


It's in her best interest, I like her but only as a friend, and any pretension otherwise would only be neediness on my part, and it would probably last for a long time and then end very badly.

I still feel like an ass. If I just act like I don't know what's going on she might get annoyed and move on. Girls do that.

Souring the grapes is too risky to use on someone I actually care about.


I'm making it look like I'm a experienced heart-breaker, what with the turning phrases into verbs and all.

I'm not, I just run things over a lot in my mind. I'm worried and I, once again, feel like an ass.


I'm making drama.

It's about midnight, I have to stop this post.

HILARIOUS

I have to be the only person who laughs during the middle of tests.

I think questions I don't know the answer to are funny.


"What is phalloidin used for in cell biology?"

Mischief?

SO WITTY

-------------------------------------------

It was the middle of the day and I was bored, so I decided to break into a trailer.

I had to carefully thread my way through the remains of the fallen tree, and then negotiate the half-rotted steps leading to the door.

This trailer is abandoned, and in my back yard. I live in a neighborhood where you can have abandoned trailers in your backyard. I'm breaking the law, but not really.


I try the door, which is of course locked.

I know how a lock works, so theoretically I should be able to rig up a way to pick it even though I've never done it before.


Not really.

I lean in and shade my eyes to peer in through the window on the door, but it's the kind of glass that's textured so you can't see through it.

Defeated, I move to retreat and notice the top window pane is out.






I never noticed that in six damn months. It didn't look recent, either.

So I reach in and unlock the door.

It's musty and not very interesting, but as a token I snag an old postcard of the refridgerator and make my way back home.


They keep black mold in places like that, it'll make you go retarded.

--------------------------

This is my month to feel like an asshole, the best explanation for which is that I am in fact being an asshole, but is it true?

Probably, there are specific instances I remember, enough of which probably aren't just my imagination retroactively coloring me jackass to constitute a definate deviation towards acting like a true bastard.

I'm going to keep that sentence there, as a warning to me.



I had a concert a couple of nights ago, and my dad came to see it.

My dad and I don't really get along, but we're polite.

I neglected once again to tell him I now have a female as a roomate. I pussied out, and that's going to bite me on the ass.


I write better than this, dammit.

I feel really dull.

-------------------------------

I have put a bunch of random pictures on my door, of random mundane things and a couple of pets. Roomate tells me I should find a decent camera and see if I'm any good.

I could have a hobby, finally.


But cameras are expensive.

I want to start drawing again, I'd like to design things like Shepard Fairey's faux-propaganda prints or the artwork on some labels for libations. They have a super complexity I like and desperately want to imitate.

------------------------------------

I've been run ragged by school. That doesn't happen too often, and I don't like it.

No respite this weekend or the next week either, and it's getting to be March Madness soon.


No rest for the jackass.

-----------------------------------

I'm in a reletively neutral mood, so the words won't come out.


They only come out when I'm being whiny. Then they come out like puke.

----------------------------------

I finally went back for jazz night at a local pub. It was excellent.

I took my dad there too, and it appeared like this girl was checking me out regardless. Probably because I was the only male there in the same age group.

Dad didn't care for the waitress, so he didn't leave a tip.


I, however, left an outrageous tip, so it worked out.




I saw the same waitress again today, she's a student.

----------------------------------

I've linked to a page of those omnipresent online tests and took just about all of them.

My brain is half-female and my love number is 4. I am the ideal seductor and I'm the United Kingdom. I'm McDonald's Burger Gray and my cock's name is Beefy McManstick.

The names for the first girl I ever had a real crush on's tits is Dixie and Daisy. If she had a cock it would be called Harry and the Hendersons. Her actual sex organs, however, would be called Easy Bake Oven.

Zing?

My pussy's name is Little Sister. That's kinda off.

What's-her-face's glorious, mysterious, and divine womanhood's name is Passion Flower. Her perfect exquisitly small breasts would be called Abercrombie & Fitch. Her satiny, lusterous hair, her sumptuously smooth pale skin and her gorgeous, tender, mischievous smile they have no names for.

Proto-Bridget's boobs would be Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Bridget's are Bert & Ernie.


Bert & Ernie?

That's also the name of Ex's tits. In fact, Ex's and Bridget's primary erogenous zones all share the same names, which I find disturbing.

Ex's sex would be called Venus Fly Trap, which I find appropriate.

Bridget's cock would be called Anaconda (So would Ex's, but let's speak no more of her).

I guess I'm using this as a device to introduce some of the aliases I plan to use when referring to real people. I use Bridget's real name because she is not. She is a primary character in a book I'm not writing, so she can't be stalked.

I've decided to call the girl who's just destined to be the next what's-her-face Inamorata.

Because I'm stupid.


Her naughty bits are called Silk & Satin and The Flaming Lips.

Because she's perfect.






le sigh...




If Inamorata had a cock, it'd be called Godzilla.


Absolutely perfect.


----------------------------------

MANDATORY POSTSSSSSSSSSSSS

I once thought to myself that if I made myself post on my journal(s) at least once a day, it would somehow someday turn out for the better.

But really, I'd end up just making a lot of posts like this here.

I'm going to go see the Machinist.

I feel loads better.


It's also colder out today.


This whole pseudo-Seasonal Affective Disorder thing gets old. I get all kinds of down in the spring, that's just simply bass-ackwards.

I think I have an apartment for the next term.



It has an upper and a lower level, and a view of the river.

That makes me giddy. How girly.


I'm paying more right now for a shitty house in a bad neighborhood. Too bad my lease is only half up, I want to move out.

At least I didn't wait until July to get lodging for August again.

3rd Post

I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do with this page.

It's silly to have two blogs at once.



I guess I'll find something to do with this, maybe it can be the page people that know me can see.

I'm so stupid.





I should also be doing my homework

OH WELL

Ooh

I can't do that at the White Space.

But this page lacks incredibly ugly starkness.

I love them both, I couldn't possibly choose.


Maybe I'll do quick little updates here, and the hardcore bitching and whining at Diaryland.

Diaryland's a more emo sounding name anyways.


I've decided.

That class I'm supposed to be doing homework for?

I am going to skip it. Problem = SOLV'D.


I'm going to hell.

oh dear

I guess my alky binge really did hurt me.

I'm shivering.

I'm inside, it's room temperature, and I'm not cold.

But I'm shivering.



That's simply no good.

The White Space = CLON'D

Hello.

The original White Space is still around, but I've put it in a coma for now.



It's better there.