| oo2 |
[Aug. 18th, 2008|08:41 am] |
For the love of all that is holy, how am I going to survive getting up at 8am? That's usually my bedtime. What sort of lame ass computer dude scheduled a requirement course this early!? Yeah, I said it! Lame-ass. An ass who is lame. I'm callin' you out boy. Fo'rizzle.
When classes start, I'm going to have to live on No-Doz. At the moment, I'm just tucking in to bed, but that's going to change in a week or so. I'll be Osmond Wray--Super Morning Man. Duh-duh-duhduh! It is very, very uncool. My super powers will be bed-head, morning breath, and grumpiness of doom. DOOM! |
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| oo1. |
[Aug. 12th, 2008|12:09 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  awake | ] |
Is it physically possible to die from Funyun overdose? I just look down at my feet and there are like--5 empty minibags of Funyun paradise down there. I'm like a mindless, ravenous zombie, only I eat crispy nibbles rather than human flesh. I think I'm going to write a poem about that. Who knew zombies and crispy nibbles could be so poetic. It's philosophical, yos.
Death and Funyuns aside, Grandma Agnes called yesterday. Apparently she's coming out to visit the clan in Washington. I get the sneaking suspicion that this woman doesn't like me. I'm not sure if it relates back to the whole adopted thing, or if it has something to do with my general unstudly nature. Sure, I'm a manly man in my own special little ways, but I think Grandma Agnes is looking for a lumberjack for a grandson. I'm anti-lumberjack.
Right, so I'm gonna go back to trying to get screen captures of Smash Bros. Brawl characters in creepy sexual positions. Hey-ooo. |
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