Finally out

So I've received loads of emails (more like death threats) from my female readers slagging me off for writing in my previous entry that women aren't capable of killing themselves. Oh, who am I kidding... nobody reads this bloody thing. And if you do read this and you're a woman please send me death threats... I'd really appreciate it. Well, to be honest I'm sorry I wrote that, I don't know what I was thinking... but you can still send me those emails.

I was out all day today with Cal. We went to school (can't believe I still go there... how sad am I?) and then to watch a movie. So now I have stories to tell. Everytime I go out with someone I always get stories... that's why I haven't been writing consistently... I've been home, depressed for those days.

Anyway, when we're getting to school, Cal tells me that he finally bought this book. He tells me that he's been chasing it for a year now... so that gets me thinking. How fast is this book? How does it run? Why does it run? How slow is Calabria? But I can actually see it... this book opening and closing at a rapid speed in order to move forward while Calabria is behind it, dragging himself, trying to reach that nitro-obsessed book. Sad...

Then we're at the movies. I decide I should go pee before the movie starts because if not I'll have to stand up in the middle of the movie, walk down the flight of stairs in the darkness while trying to avoid coke containers and other things thrown at me. So I go out, and I start looking at these poster all over the walls. Then I hear some footsteps; there's someone behind me. I turn and it's the security guard. So no problem there. So I keep on walking and looking at the posters until I go in. Then I see all these stalls but no peeing stalls (if you know what I mean). So I start suspecting that something's wrong, as usually those stalls are at the beginning of the bathroom. And then there's a flush and this woman comes out... I was like "Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!" and I ran out of there before she threw toilet paper at me. And that makes me wonder... why didn't the guard tell me anything? Did he think I wanted to go in the ladies bathroom on purpose? Why would I go there on purpose? Isn't that against the law? That only goes to show how useless the law is here... and if you read the entry on Erc then you'll really know how useless the law is here.

So I'm listening to this show on Virgin Radio, right? And all of a sudden they start commenting on this court case that was heard the day before. It consisted of a woman who went to a tattoo man to get a tattoo (no kidding!) and then the guy pulled out his willy, which just happened to have a tattoo of Snoopy) and told her to play with it. LOL! I know, I know, it's not right, but it's hilarious! Can you imagine the the guy? "How would you like to play with my dog, Snoopy?" and he pulls it out. "wanna pet my dog?" lol. People are so messed up. Who would tattoo their willy? Now that has got to hurt... ouch!

So is this what the tattoo looked like?

On the way back

So I haven't written in a while... again. I've been pissed off, so I haven't exactly felt like writing. Actually, that's not true. I can liberate myself from piss-offed-ness (there you go, new word of the day) by writing, but what will happen is that I'll be really cruel and mean and bitchy and what not and then I'm gonna write something that really offends someone and I'm going to get in trouble. So what do I do instead? I shut up, put on some aggressive music and it's all good after a while. That hasn't worked this time around, so I'm still sort of angry/aggrieviated/whatever you want to call it, but well, I'm good enough to control my fingers.

So I have a rash on my right hand. No, it's not from petting the monster, Tiny and Ed, it's an allergic reaction to something. No, it's not from that, Tiny and Ed. So it has spread all over the top part of my right hand, but not onto my fingers or onto my wrist... just on the hand. Interesting. It's not on my palms either, so it's really weird. I really hope it wasn't a spider (I'm getting shivers as I write that) but I think it might've been some bug that bit me at the club. Bastard.

Anyway, I was watching this old AC/DC concert. It was in 1977, which means that they were popular but not legendary yet (Highway to Hell wasn't even out yet). So well, it's a pretty good concert, you can definitely tell it's AC/DC because of their unique noise. However, what catches my eye is Angus Young (the lead guitarist) coz he's jumping/running/falling/spinning all over the place. I had heard that he did lots of crazy stuff while performing, but I had no clue it was that messed up. It was very entertaining, nonetheless. It shows what a great guitarist the guy is, if he can still play his wicked licks while jumping/running/falling/spinning.

There's a part of the concert where Angus runs up the stairs to the second tier of the audience and plays while running up the steps and while making his way through the crowd. Then he falls on his knees next to this girl and asks for a kiss... and is denied. So he goes to the next one and he's snubbed again. He tried a third time--lucky third time--and he's rejected once again. So he just goes back to doing--whatever it is he was doing--and eventually comes back down to the stage. That got me thinking. If it would've been 1980 (or later) he wouldn't have been able to run though the crowd because all the women would've thrown themselves at him. I'll bet you that those three women attempted suicide for not giving Angus a kiss (I say attempted because they might've failed... you know, being women and all...).

Oh, btw, I found a math equation on women today on the internet(s). I'll share it with you, but by viewing it you are agreeing to not sue me or hate me or not hiring anybody to kill me (actually you can hate me if you want... just don't do the first and the last).