2001-09-26 - 11:13 a.m.

***

Hello? Is this thing on?

God damn this crap.

I'm sitting here, feeling miserable because I think I got food poisoning from the oh-so-delectable (and very healthy....) food here. This is the kind of food that starving prisoners wince at in prison. Yes that bad.

And then I sign on to write in the diary again, since my computer has consistantly shit the bed every day this week so far and I get this stupid "Rate your Last Kiss" banner glaring out at me.

It's shit like this that makes me hate writing in this diary. I should find somewhere that doesn't have cuddly animals everywhere or looks like a Pre-Kindergarden classroom.

Ah, fuck it. Where's the Pepto?

You want to know what makes me laugh a lot? I wrote probably the single most asshole thing ever for my last entry. I guess no one reads this thing anymore, because I got absolutely no feedback from it. When I wrote it, I almost didn't post it, because shit, if making fun of N*Sync gets me 23 hate emails, then telling everyone a World Trade Center joke would flood my mailbox and I didn't want that. It wasn't a matter insulting anyone, because frankly I don't give a damn. It needed to be said. It's just that I didn't want to hear about it and I flinched as I clicked on that "done!" button I've hit all those times.

I open my mail today. Porno, porno, scam mail, a letter from Blue, porno porno, your order from grandroyal is on hold...

Nothing.

The guestbook? Placid as a lobotomy patient.

What the hell does that mean? Well, like I said, either no one has bothered to read this or people get more pissed off about defamation of those stupid N*Sync puppets than if I'm cracking a joke about America getting attacked.

Blue, you're right. There is no god.

So, now I sit back clutching my stomach like a wounded animal and hope to god that one day soon, I'll wake up in a world that makes even the slightest bit of sense.

By the way, Backstreet Boys suck too. They can all fuck off.

I hope at least that got somebody's attention.

BMC

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