.unclarity.
10:37 p.m. || 2005-02-22
[mood: shited. 
]
Imagine a cold metal baton forcing its way up your virginal ass.
Yeah, parents again.
I will probably won't be allowed to work until it's too late to be working. I wouldn't call my parents twats, but yeah, I think I'll settle for batons in the meantime.
There are 72 pop-ups that are being blocked on the laptop. I don't like this big number because it has more than one digit and 72 is alot of fecking pop-ups. Consider me mad.
I told Jas about the amazing world of animal mating rituals. I found the info in the local issue of Maxim, where I was disappointed to find how artificial Eva Longoria's breasts are. The more I look at them, the more they look silicone-pumped, so I stopped.
I'm frustrated that I can't seem to pay attention to CSI. I want to absorb every bit of coolness there is on that 21" screen, but I can't. My mind draws a fat blank and my head is pounding. Call it a moodswing. But I'll warn you that I never liked that word.
Friday is dreadful. I keep thinking of it. I'll keep having short periods of useless adrenaline self-injections and I will always have a floaty head until Friday. I used to like Fridays, but everyday feels like the same day, and the week feels like one long day altogether where I take countless naps and daydream of millions of colours and scenarios and let my movie/film-like mind splay all the images in widescreen 2.0 format.
The fact that no one can stay over is also very shit-ted. I can't say depressing because I'd be exaggerating if I used it.
I'm running out of money. No work, no permit to work, no nothing. I can't go out as much because my mom thinks that people with vendettas will come along and put a knife to my throat just because my maid is in the dead centre of a family-related feud. How ridiculous and petty some people can be. The fact that I'm being kept in meaningless confinement just because my maid can't not be a busybody is just fecking unfair.
Life was never made to be fair, but really, time out for a bit here.
Guess I'll be having the movie marathons by myself then.
I'm feeling so half-raged that whenever I see the White Noise trailer, instead of being characteristically shit-scared, I would just beat the dead daylights out of those unrested spirits myself if they would just stop bothering the living with their EVP shit. By the way, EVP is known to be a method whereby the dead communicate with the living, through the static of the television or the unclear transmissions of the radio. Seriously, if I could, I would just pull a Constantine and break dead necks.
Guess I'll just settle for typing out fanfiction goodness.
Not fair, but have to live with it. :/.
You are 'Gregg shorthand'. Originally designed to
enable people to write faster, it is also very
useful for writing things which one does not
want other people to read, inasmuch as almost
no one knows shorthand any more.
You know how important it is to do things
efficiently and on time. You also value your
privacy, and (unlike some people) you do not
pretend to be friends with just everyone; that
would be ridiculous. When you do make friends,
you take them seriously, and faithfully keep
what they confide in you to yourself.
Unfortunately, the work which you do (which is
very important, of course) sometimes keeps you
away from social activities, and you are often
lonely. Your problem is that Gregg shorthand
has been obsolete for a long time.
What obsolete skill are you?
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No. A person doesn't just wake up and stop loving somebody! ~Buffy, "I Only Have Eyes For You"
