August 18, 2002 :: 6:12 p.m.
spandex helps to calm the raging beast
Another day, another entry written on a computer that isn't my own. How sad. I miss my little black love child already, and it's only been out of commision for three days. Hopefully it'll be fixed soon, and the all-night orgies can begin again.
Google hits: "creed my sacrifice rare," and a German search for "girl fucking an eel." Ahem. Let's just move right along before I start sharing the horrible mental pictures that I'm having. Like the lead singer from Creed sacrificing a girl to Christ by fucking her with an electric eel. Mmm, a tasty, crispy offering for Jesus. What's that? Oh, right. Sorry. Wasn't supposed to share.
Adam's home, which makes me happy. We're going to hang out for a bit tonight, which will be a fun time. I've spent today reading and... well... reading. That's pretty much it. I made the mistake of putting a metal bowl in the microwave, but thankfully it didn't put on a snap-crackle-and-pop light show like the CDs did. Many thanks to Adam for telling me to do that, it was most entertaining. However, my parents weren't pleased when it somehow destroyed our microwave and we had to get a new one. Heh. Heh heh. I didn't know that would happen, I swear.
Umm... what to say? God, this has been boring lately. I have nothing to write about because I haven't been doing anything. It doesn't bother me, really, because I don't feel like doing much. But still. Having a life is sort of necessary if you want to have an interesting diary. So maybe I'll just start making things up. Like yesterday, when I went to the zoo and rode an escaped tiger along the side of the highway until a cop/poacher shot it with a tranquilizer gun and supposedly dragged it back to the zoo. I think he took it home, though, and made its various parts into a rug and a wallpiece. I protested, but dammit, no one ever listens to me. Especially when I'm wearing a garbage bag as a dress and attempting to steer the tiger onward, to glory, to fame, to Hollywood (!) where we'll upstage those European guys with their fancy-shmancy white tigers and make a name for ourselved. Yeah. Authority figures tend to look down on that kind of thing.
So how was that for some made-up fun times? More later/tomorrow, hopefully of the "that's actually happened in sane reality" variety.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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