Leave me a Note, Damn It!
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2003-02-05 - 1:17 a.m.


***

In case you ain't knowin, in case you ain't herd....

There's been nothing here for a while. Not because nothing has happened, because a lot has. Oh so much has. Hell, just 3 hours ago, I was cut down at the knees by someone I used to love and fucking told I'm more or less a complete waste of life. My house is in shitty condition, one of the toilets refuses to work among other things, I owe crazy money and on top of all of it, I have to do homework.

Now I don't want to hear "Oh well get used to it" or "welcome to real life, buddy". In all fucking actuality, its the fact that someone "got used to it" that it became their "reality". Everything you sit and stew in now is from your own doing (unless of course, a bunch of circumstances turns your world fucking upside down). Nope, I don't WANT to accept getting shit on. As a matter of fact, I'd like to do the exact opposite and absolutely be pissed off and bitch about it. Of course, it's not my right to blast page after page, listing off thing after thing, delving as deeply as possible into every crevice of every wrinkle of every piece of shit that has been put on a plate for me. It would be rewarding to me and it might even be comical. Hell, it might even be eye opening, revolutionary work that somehow, in some secret and dark way, contributes to the cure of all disease, plague, ailment, tension, fighting, harrassing, burning feelings, achy feelings, ouchy feelings, all other upset feelings and herpes. I could figure out a way using spy technology, like cutting holes in a piece of paper in the shape of Mr. Potato Head and putting them up to the screen to circle choice words that have some hidden meaning and who also, when the paper is flipped upside down, circle the greatest potato salad recipe ever.

OR maybe I could bitch about jsut being downright miserable right now and a bunch of people think I'm a whiny idiot who needs to get in touch with reality and stop bitching about stupid trivial horseshit, which are mostly feelings and emotions - things charged on an upset in your chemical structure that attempt to right you as a being by throwing you deep into a dark hole of one side of the spectrum and then force your body to pump the exact opposite reacting chemical so that you go back and forth like a metronome.

I read a poem that used a metronome as a powerful image. I wrote all over it when we had to read it for Advanced Poetry Class, which is a fucking lie. It's the same class as last time, only I get to be called "advanced" because I was already there 2 semesters ago. I also called my teacher an asshole and plan on telling him that his comment about my beard today was uncalled for, considering I have more hair on the bottom of my chin than he does on the top of his head.

His nose hair however beats my moustache any day of the week. You could braid them.

His comment?

PROF. SHITHEAD: "Mr. Belmonte, you appear to have something dangling between your ears
stupid asshole smirk shoots across because you have to wind up for a punchline of this magnitude of asinine immaturity that even kindergardeners laugh at the first time and ignore when they move on to grades whose curriculums don't include "nap time" and "let's all eat the paste in front of construction paper and glitter on the table"
Oh that's your beard."
BELMO(MR. BELMONTE IF YO NASTY): _ _ _ _

Yes I said absolutely nothing to the man. He's not worth my time. Crap, man's damn near dead, I figured outliving the fuck was revenge enough. If I realy wanted to hold a grudge, I could always find a way to get him buried upside down.

Seanbaby.com updated ONCE the other day and I laughed hard at it. Go look at it. NO I didn't make the shit a hyperlink. REMEMBER TYPING? IT'S THAT THING YOU DO WITH THE THING. FORGET THAT THE MOUSE CAN DO ALL THE THINKING FOR YOU. STOP JACKING OFF TO PORN ON THE INTERNET AND ACTUALLY TYPE SOMETHING. Also, to get back on topic, type it in your address bar your own goddamn self. I have to, it's not like I have it any easier than you do. Also, to get off the topic, boobies.

I bought shampoo and conditioner at Aldi's, which is about one half step up from a completely government run welfare supermarket. They cost me 69 cents and are "SHIQUE" brand thingys.

Or is that "thingies"? Seeing as it's a nonsense word, I think the correct spelling is I don't give a fuck.

But do I trust a bottle that can't spell words right and cost me less than a lottery ticket or a bus station handjob?

Stay tuned to find out

BMC

PS: the answer is yes

PPS: BMC

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