...my debut into the real world...well, A real world

i have to hide my tracks as i enter the corporate work force...but i can't just delete the blog for fear of losing the memories i no longer have. *sigh*

so to keep the integrity of my blog, i'm copy and pasting my title and description that will no longer be found as hits via search engine. sorry to everyone who will be missing out on "totally free porn" (which is the most common search description that finds my site).

good bye. and if god allows, we will meet again.

XXX FREE KINKY PORN XXX
if you found my site through a search engine, i say: "welcome, pervert!" if you found my site through me, i'd still say the same thing, sicko.

R.I.P.

bull dog days and days dog bull

"WINE ME! DINE ME! 2009 ME!" --Rumpus--

this monday was, among other things, bull dog days! included in the "among other things" of that last sentence happened to be my lab practical that i practically failed. i have officially decided that i hate physics and fucking physics lab. there's something particularly annoying about physics, and that's all the human error involved. when working, say, in the bio lab, you either get what you want or you don't. there's none of this error propagation business that you get when you jump on the bandwagon to physics land.

so, i sucked at physics lab practical...but on the upside, i did super duper well on my diff eq midterm! yay. looks like i way always become a differential equationologist.

bulldog days was rather uneventful, especially since i went over to SAE (read: S-Gay-E) only to find that, at 11:45 pm, it was being broken up by the cops. due to the fact that my phone calls to multiple other people were ignored, i ended up coming back to the room, only to crash on the couch with my lame self.

the previous weekend, including thursday and friday, was pretty fun. thursday night, bonks had an englishman stay from Oxford who was with his singing group (<--so gay, right?). any whore, i had a good time partying it up with the english folk and showing them the true beauties of american frat houses...and the drunken glory of big, angry, white people.

happy last week of classes! i finished up most of my work...so my week is practically over with. i booked my flight to london...snipered a couple of people while on harkness tower...and managed to finish my micro and macro!! go me.

i'm bored.

pop ups and porn searches

you know. a lot has gone down since i last addressed your existence, blog.

the weather the past few days have been unnaturally good: sunshine that creates heat (and not just bleak sunshine that usually means more cold), breezes and not freezing chills, green grass and not white powder (...referring to snow, of course), white powder and not green grass. flowers are blooming, yale girls are breaking out summer wear (good thing or bad thing, i will not say...), people are playing out in the courtyards...tour groups are inadvertently misled to thinking that yale is really this cool. news flash: it isn't. usually, the people and things to do are about as cold and unapproachable as the sick new haven winters.

during review session for my diff eq midterm on thursday, i was doing my own thing before noticing that my friend was busy sliding something off the top of her book with a disgruntled look.

**re-enactment**
"what are you doing" i asked.
"wiping off the mess the slugs made."
"slugs?"
"yea. three slugs were on my book by the time i came back when i left it outside."

a light bulb immediately went off in some metaphysical sense, and i immediately delved into questions in order to find out the details. i mean, any time three slugs end up on your book-- there must be more reason than some unnatural occurrence: it's a sign.

"'four times it stalled
before the gateway, at the very threshold;
four times the arms clashed loud inside its belly.
Nevertheless, heedless, blinded by frenzy,
we pressed right on and set the inauspicious
monster inside the sacred fortress.'"
The Aeneid, Book II

signs like these are too easily taken for granted. see what happened to the fucking trojans? needless to say, the three slugs ended up being a bad omen. she died the next day.

just kidding. we just assessed all the bad things that had happened to her in the past few days (e.g. getting last pick in the housing draw...every time, etc. etc.)...

speaking of housing draw. i'm wondering who got first pick single for the rising junior class...hm...

I DID, BITCHES! next year, i'll be m-bating and proclamating all over my brand new, one-of-a-kind single.

and, in other news, i feel pretty good about my diff eq midterm...as if that's the last thing that most people would care about.

i'd like to give a big thanks to all the supporters of my blog: namely, all the sick fucks who add points to my counter because they look up shit like "rhinorrhea porn" "xxx rachel dratch" "xxx hand to hand pink pussy porn" "pixie pillow porn" "how to tell if gf in orgy" and end up getting referred to my website from some search engine. thanks for adding to the community and making me feel better that more than 90% of the hits to my blog are from fucks looking to rub one out.

well, bitches, i really should be off and into bed. i could recount the tales of my weekend for you (magic princesses, green gnomes, lingerie fashion shows, and animal planet sagas)...but, alas, out of interest and self respect for, well, my self...i shall refrain.

tokin and mokin

the weekend, to say the least, was uneventful, as far as my sex life goes. still-- i ponder, day in and day out, as chaste as the first day god let me out into this beautiful world...

*snicker*

a few highlights: chillin with some M.I.A., new order, color changing candles, and google montage with my main man--JB (you know who you are)--, feeling ill after smoking a cigarette, psi up's first mixer of the year, my first mixer in my pants, and, of course, my wife's a capella concert.

can i just take a moment to say that I HATE A CAPELLA. I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE, OR HOW MANY FENDI PURSES YOU OWN-- A CAPELLA SUCKS. and i don't say this out of spite (because, as you all know, i have quite a beautiful singing voice and quite the perfect perfect pitch...and it is but my modesty that keeps me from attaining the fame that truly belongs to me). while i spent (read: wasted) hours of my life, not only at the annual "jams", but the annual "fresmen recruitment shows" aka "singing desserts" and "parents' weekend concerts". lordy lordy! only god knows what i could've done with all the time i ended up spending on a capella concerts...hrm...i could've finished up some homework...or adopted a child from "feed the children" or at least watched "a night in paris" starring Paris Hilton for the 31st time...hell- i might have even saved 15% or less on car insurance! jesus! where are my priorities?

in other news, i can't help but complain that the hits to my blog are slowly slowly disappearing...as i realize that people have lost interest in my life with the same amount of direct correlation as i have lost interest in my own life. damn you sophomore year! i had thought you up to be so much more than you ever were. my life this weekend has resorted to eating exorbitant amounts of food, including 4 packs of easy mac, 2 bags of Combos (cheese filled), butter-lovers popcorn...um...the rest of the list is currently residing on my thighs, as i have gained...well...NOTHING from all that food eating (kudos to my members of the "Metabolizers"...where ever you are...). fuck all of you people who have underactive metabolisms and get fat whenever you eat the things i eat. i laugh at you with a hint of pity.

and finally, to the loverly commentator who left the quote:
Performance Fleece: when i google 'old navy' this site keeps on coming up...what is going on?!?!?
i have one thing to say to you: just because you don't have enough of an eye to dress in colors other than black...and just because you buy expensive clothes (that end up looking cheap when you wear them)...and just because you grew up on Long Island, but we all know you were really born in a trailer in jersey...and just because your last name is actually Hernandez...and just because you talking about purging as if you are even attempting to battle your obvious obesity issues...DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN FREELY INSULT MY BLOG HOWEVER YOU LIKE. call it trashy-- or call it "jersey-esque"-- but don't ever call reference it to performance fleece...or old navy for that matter. next time you want to deal with issues regarding the multiple XXXL performance fleeces you receive every chanukkah from your family and extended family, call a therapist.

on that note, who's up for some gossip? can you figure these out:
*disclaimer. i actually wrote down a bunch of gossip, but realized i could get in a lot of trouble for it. e-mail me if you want the "page six" version of my blog*

so...um...well, we can play the game where i will have four sentences...only one of the sentences is true. which one is it? you'll have to be the judge.

This weekend, i was paid $5 to lick someone's nipple.
This weekend, i tripped while walking to the lunch table with my tray.
This weekend, i destroyed someone's self esteem.
This weekend, i finished all of my homework.

fast food songs

this whole new wave of fast food songs, with special guest appearances from C-list celebs, such as Brooke Burke, for Burger King has really caught/got me off guard...emphasis on the "got me off" portion.

it reminds me, of course, to the good ol' days of fast food marketing songs. for example:
"to all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun." to those of you who can't internally hear the "jingle" of sorts in your head-- i promise you, it's a song. i mean, it's really just a listing of ingredients, but some brilliant man (or woman) managed to doodle up a diddy for it. probably the same brilliant man who writes all of Ashlee Simpson's songs...

but wait. thereshmore! howabout this one:
"hold the pickles, hold the lettuces, special orders don't upset, all we ask is that you let us have it your way...have it your way...have it your way..." this is a burger king song, circa 1997 (i believe)...in fact, i really just made up a date because i wanted to use the word "circa." it seems as though using songs to market your product, particularly fast food, is coming back into the spot light.

in other news, i'm so fucking glad that its fucking thursday...as it officially marks the beginning of my weekend.

and in other, other news, i've been very unimpressed with my hits to the blog. i think i'll need to change the title soon, as i have lost many-a-hit because the search engines have probably realized that my site is not, in fact, XXX free kinky porn XXX. damn you, google...damn you...

you know...i've always depended on the kindness of strangers

to not recount the glorious tales of saturday night would be sacriligious-- but alas! i must...for there is far too much to recount (and it has been far too long since that evening). i do remember staring at my new color changing candle and hitting up Sig Ep for a last hurrah of sorts--since i don't expect to be going out that much from now on.

ha.

sunday, however, was good fun. MMX and i went on the BR trip to NYC to see "A Streetcar Named Desire" starring John C. Reilly ("cellophane man" in the big screen version of Chicago), Natasha Richardson (The Parent Trap, starring L. Lohan before she became Busty Hohan), and John Bauer (you know...the perve in The Devil's Advocate...o yes-- and the perve in 8MM...his repertoire is far too predictable). anywhore, i never saw the movie version, though my mother tells me it was one of my grandparents favoritest movies-- sweet, huh?

but let's be honest. compare John C. Reilly and Marlon Brando in his 20s...is there really much comparison? apparently, the plot is that much more intense when the lead male is hot. but in this case, i missed out on a lot of that intensity. i did, however, catch a lot of the literary symbolism...o~ Tennessee Williams--such poetry...such fluidity! hmm...yes~ *sips glass of red wine*. i left the play feeling very unsettled.

so i drank some jack daniels as soon as i got back.

ha~ no. not really...though i probably should have.

i got back on my running schedule, though i was heaving and ho-ing by the 2nd mile...sucks huh? looks like it'll be a while before i get back to my consistent mileage and i finally get that Anna Nicole Smith body i've been wanting for so long. i'm trying to win the TrimSpaX competition...you know..."because i wanna a hot body...i wanna look like her...i wanna win a ferrari--i want some money!"

in regards to this most classy of comments left on my classy wall:
bitch: why don't you go and suck bianca's tits until they leach shit out of them ..then stick ur cock up her ass and do her lwhile she cums all over u

that is quite disgusting. next time you try to come up with something dirty, at least make it hot and kinky. i mean, bianca's tits don't even "leach" shit out of them-- no matter how hard i suck...and she has hemorrhoids...so sticking my cock up her ass is unfeasible. now that you have greatly embarassed her, PLEASE apologize and take back what you just said.

its time for me to finish my laundry and get some ZZZs.

post-purim depression

phewie! this week has been quite the kadoozie.

what's a kadoozie?

NO! itsakadoozie.

get it? (that was just an excerpt from an early 90s commercial for "Itsakadoozie", which were large, foot-long, twisted popsicles (...or, as Courney Shane ala Jawbreaker would call it: Big Stick) with green, orange, and red stripes. i will admit that i did have my father buy them for our freezer, and i will admit, too, that i was never able to finish the entire box. that was always my deal, you know; telling my dad to buy cereals, chips, ice cream, etc. that i wanted to eat, but i never finished them. yay!)

anywhore, my midterm on wednesday for physics was gang raped by me and my friends as i pummelled the shit out of it. there were no donkey punches or danza slaps (things that i would've preferred), but--alas--i will not be ungrateful! speaking of donkey punches and danza slaps...and strawberry shortcakes and many other ways to disrespect women in the sack...i remember telling these terms at the camp fire while on Harvest, and i really offended our Harvest leader. leave it to Tactless Joe to get the good times goin'!

thursday night was effing wildness...i can't go into too much detail. but i caught an episode of "PoweR Girls", went over to the 12-pack to do my duties (a few notes: A) Don't ask me to help you buy a camera when i am drunk, and get angry when i am unable to answer questions on european addresses B) When you do one line of mint snuff in a nostril, you must have a second line ready for your other nostril-- or it will get jealous C) if i roll a j, i prefer to have some, too, since--you know--i'm kinda the one that rolled it. D) dead mothers--not funny. other than that, 12 pack did exceedingly well for a thursday night--i was suprised that many people showed up to celebrate your birthday, loser. and, suprise suprise, SAE late nite was also a fucking shit show...that included me, not only getting stepped on, but getting poured on, dripped on, among other things. o college! it just wouldn't be the same if i didn't come back home smelling like the Flower Lady! afterwards, i made a gourmet run with some buds, talked about skiing and tokyo, then loafed at home watching: "The Most XXX-Treme" on Animal Planet before going to bed.

friday night was not as much effing wildness, as i had to do a lot more walking. (Happy Greek Independence Day and Happy B-day to Mr. X-tos!) hrm...around 9:30, i made my way down to give a few hellos, smoke a cig, have some champagne and eat some delicious choco cake with nilla icing. dropped by BR Entryway N to say happy b-day to my peeps, Jojo and tuckster. went back to the room to have some paris hilton cocktails (aka Sugar Free Red Bull y Viking Fjord Vodka--the kitsch-est vodka ever!). after getting lost in Silliman, i went with a bunch of peeps including the girls to SY entryway O, where i felt visually molested by too many, scary drama people. needless to say, we left in a heartbeat. bonks and i made our way to the persian party, where i was ditched my british meena (biatch!)...not to mention the fact that the bar was already closed...and over to SAE, which was quite hopping. i had to go back to Silliman, however, to re-check out Prom 2005--where i must give a big shout out to Lars Young, for being the greatest corsage-ist ever! just wait until you start covering them in swarofsky crystals! then you'll be making the real dough! but, as all things end, we all ended up going back to SAE, which was amazingly crowded and doing well for a "Mexican Themed" party. i mean, SAE isn't supposed to be that cool...and it was the second night in a row that people were packing the place. o dingy frat houses-- what more can i say? of course, i made a gor heave run before heading back home to watch Jawbreaker with all the loser sluts still left over in my room...

...and that brings me to today. i've got some diff eq to do, but i must must MUST take a shower first...as that will allow me to procrastinate even more. yay! peace out, bitches.

you put the kitsch in avant garde

hm...the hum drum of sophomore year lulls...

bad news of the day: i had 9 am class and i have a midterm on wednesday
good news of the day: last night, i got to the part in "Memoirs of a Geisha" when Sayuri's mizage is finally sold! yay for softcore literary porn. i will admit, however, that it certainly wasn't as well written as Anne Rice's The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, which, i might add, was a part of my literary canon at the ripe age of 7th grade (i know...that's not an age). who says 13 year olds are too young for brass anal beads and effing a coma-ed fairy tale characters?

it's probably the reason i ended up this way. *sigh*

life this week isn't as much as it is boring. problem sets here...problem sets there...sections...escorting...midterms. i'm just glad i only have 2 more midterms for which i need to study before my finals. see?? see how lame my life has become?? it's dwindled down to me blogging about my academic career.

speaking of which, i find out if i get my job in NYC tomorrow. i'm crossing my fingers, though i am modestly humble (<--is that overkill) about getting in...i'm assuming the worst, as all things i have applied to via Yale have been, well, unfruitful. worst comes to worst, i go back to nashvegas and make money at home in the lab. best comes to best, i go to NYC to stay in (ugh) Morningside Heights and enjoy the conveniences of the city...and closer access to clientel.

my new revelation for the day has been: NO MORE GOSSIPING. i get in way too much unsubstantiated trouble, for it is either A) i am too careless with my mouth (this is always unintentional) B) i just get in trouble because i am me C) i tell someone who is just too untrustworthy and outs me. too many times have i been blamed for something i didn't do, and when i explain myself and my alibi, i end up getting someone else/others in trouble instead. it's quite the double edged sword. i have limited my colloquial tongue from saying: "I heard" or "He/She/Heshe/Bitch said". i will, of course, use my own discretion...but gossip was soo 2004. i'm totally over it. besides, gossip itself is so much better when you can revel in it by yourself. and, shout out to lizzy g: i know...i need to get started on Gossip Girls II. does any one have Gossip Girls I?

and with that, bitches, i'm out like trout.

back in action with a tan

got back from crazy cape coral florida with the bonkster. her house on the canal was good fun, and we had our fair share of unprotected hot tub sex (since EVERYONE knows you can't get pregnant if you have sex in a hot tub...DUH!), sun bathing, cum fiestas, late night boat rides, and lunch rendezvous on "picnic island." a few highlights: A) me and my luck with (why god?!) always getting the plane seat next to some crazy person. B) bonkster's real, faux aunt and uncle C) watching unscary scary movies (beware of "Saw" y "The Forgotten"...bonks did notice that the lead in "Saw," who was a horrible actor at that, was, in fact, my fave fairy tale hero of all time: Wesley from The Princess Bride--a title name that i still don'e quite understand) D) talking a lot about the same people E) sitting on the dock and eating klon-dyke bars.

i had tons of fun-- and, bonks, don't worry. i just got tested and i don't have anything, so the clap came from you.

i leave for school on saturday and, for the first time, i'm really not that psyched to go back. i have a midterm on monday and muchos homework to finish up, but i must admit that, thanks to neenee, i have a new band fave to bring back to the Have with me. particularly, SMOOSH: the Seattle-based two girl band, ages 9 and 11 respectively; one on the keyboard + one on the drums + both on vocals = sunshine and happiness in my sad sad life. no kidding-- as soon as they started singing their first song, i started to see blue birds and was tempted to buy a big sunflower costume so that i could frollick and be gay and dainty. the music is kind of like the music you would think you would hear in a very fucked up, edward scissor hands meets nightmare before christmas meets every other Tim Burton Movie nightmare. check Smoosh out on iTunes...or, pirate the music from your local music-sharing neighbor.

excerpts from one of their songs, titled: "The Quack"

The quack is back
The bones are here
I know that you is not a quack
Ah-oo
*strange noise i cannot imitate via typing*
The bone daddy's back
*more strange noise*
The quack is back
The bones are here
I know that you are quack
Ah-oo
*strange noise again*
The bone daddy's back
*...and finally more strange noise*
He's back!

Smoosh taught me one very important lesson: you don't need acid to trip; all you need is a little Smoosh and a lot of hash.

hrm...i'm also getting my haircut today at four (in 20 minutes to be more specific), and i also know that with my luck, i will get there late and my hair-doer will have been waiting...as opposed to every other time i get there on time, and she makes me wait for like 15 minutes (dumb bia~). i just got a brazilian bikini wax/haircut at Rimage a month ago, but i figure that i should prevent the shaginess from leaking its way back into my life so that i can live out the rest of my sophomore year as sexy as possible. did you hear that? the rest of my sophomore year?! how depressing. what wouldn't i give to be a freshmen/virgin again~ woe!

lame

so. for lack of sounding lame, i haven't been updating (not that anyone noticed) because, well, my spring break has lacked some luster. my schedule for the past few days has been A) wake up B) poison small children C) eat some fruits and vegetables i find around the house D) purge E) purge F) purge G) go to the library (yes. the vanderbilt library has been my new hot spot of the week) where i've been studying up on physics (and getting physical...) H) grab dinner with the bro I) purge J) come back home K) through X) watch TV Y) brush my teeth Z) sleep.

i know it wasn't absolutely necessary for me to go through the entire alphabet, but it has significantly raised my self esteem. does it make me look busy? and i counted purging more than once in a row, because, well, sometimes one time just isn't enough.

tomorrow, i'm going to my god mother's house for a chinese new years cum fiesta. ew. i know that was really gross, but i couldn't resist. it's just a bash that is thrown so my mother can labor over cooking food for large amounts of white people...and its under the guise of "chinese new year" so my mother can't sue for labor rights violations.

on a good note, i'm understanding all of my physics...in fact, i'm kind of getting off on it. i mean, we're on electricity and magnetism, and i'm really fascinated by how the two are connected. in laymens terms, a changing electric field creates a magnetic field and a changing magnetic field creates an electric field. isn't that fucking fucked up? it's like a conundrum wrapped in an enigma...or an enigma wrapped in a conundrum (i forget how the saying goes). damn nature and all of its secrets!

on another good note, i'm leaving on monday for Cape Coral, FL to sunbathe with bookie cookie and enjoy the ethereal delights of boat rides back to cuba, pool side make out sessions, hot tubs and white wine, pissing in neighbors' mail boxes, and...well...pissing in neighbors' mail boxes. normally when i go beaching, i lather on the sunblock so i don't look so hispanic. considering the fact, however, that i'll only be in FL for a few days and the tan will have to last me well into May, i'm going to risk a little skin disease and go balls to the walls with my sun bathing.

my life is so dry. peace, bitches.

AHHHH. I WAS SOOO CLOSE.

so. i went to my brother's house for dinner, and upon finishing our meals, his roommate walks in. she babbles along, somewhere dropping a line referring to "the simple life 3" being filmed "in nashville" and immediately a light bulb went off in my head.

i jumped out of the couch to interrogate her "too good to be true" claims. ALAS! i confirmed her allegations via google...which told me that production for "the simple life 3" closed up on monday (today's wednesday...wah!). anywhore, the bitches, Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, were in the area interning as wedding planners and dentists assistants. me, being the sad person that i am, drove to elmington park, where (according to my brother's roommate) production was staying.

and yes, i did drive there-- but only because it's like 5 mins from my house-- seriously.

it was sort of a scattering of trailers in this miniature parking lot, full of nice vehicles and bright lights. unfortunately, the girls were not there, as filming had already wrapped up. however, i had one lingering question on my mind:

HOW THE FUCK DID I NOT KNOW THAT FUCKING PARIS HILTON AND FUCKING NICOLE RICHIE WERE GOING TO BE IN FUCKING NASHVILLE FUCKING TENNESSEE??!?!?!

woe...woe...woe is me.

i called bapple to see if he was aware of this news, and even that podunk bastard knew what was going on in the real world of celebutantes. he informed me that they were staying at some girl's house who (by way of multiple "he saids she saids") he technically knew in Franklin...in addition to the fact that his mother could not get into Green Hills Mall (...soo close to my house) because they had shut down the place on Saturday to let the girls go shopping.

needless to say, i yelled at bapple multiple times, asking: "who do you think you are? who are you? how could you not have told me?!?!" because i got into fucking town on Saturday...i might have had a chance to recreate a run in with the two Hottie McHotsters. my life has lost all meaning.

so, after calling multiple people about the news of grandeur (shout out to sportscenter, ahaves, $, meimei, and all the other whores i called), i moped back into my house...only to find out that my mother-- MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD-- over heard my talk of Paris and Nicole and mentioned that the house of her colleague, who works at the desk behind her and whose family is in the music bizz, was offered as a "sacrifical lamb," if you will, to let Paris and Nicole live in during production. the insane man TURNED DOWN THE OFFER! what the fuck. what the fuck. yes. i repeated it twice becasue A) he turned down the offer and B) my mother knew all about this without telling me.

my life has been a lie. my mother not only knew of dragostea din tei before me...she also knew that Paris and Nicole were but a few miles away from my grasp...and she did not let me know. lies upon more lies upon more lies! i need a therapist.

O NASHVILLE-- if only we had a few more paparazzi, i would've known of my lovers' whereabouts and staged a kidnapping.

N.B. ...um...most of the drama recreated in this post are for, well, dramatic purposes. i really don't care about paris and nicole that much-- all i wanted was a drop blood and a lock of hair. is that really too much to ask? i guess i'm back to square 1, that is, i guess i'll have to go back to my original plan of starting a new line of Designer Doggy Toothpaste that i'll launch next year for Tinkerbell (watch out, bitches-- i've already had it copyrighted).

to google-advertise or not to google-advertise-- that is the question

so. i have been propositioned with quite a proposition (and no, this wasn't like that time i tried to get my grade changed...the "unofficial" way):

as i was trying to log into blogger so that i could ramble on about life, i noticed a little tab that said: "make money." i, naturally, immediately clicked the button without notice of the fact that it said: "make money off your blog with google ads." thank god i could make money without the expense of my family honor. i was pleasantly suprised to see yet another genius brain child of the Great Google God...you see, with google ads, i could get paid every time someone clicks a google ad bar that i would have placed on the right side of my page if i decided to sign up.

unfortunately for me, as i was signing up, the program asked for my social security number...as i would be getting paid (N.B. escort services, however, do NOT, and i repeat DO NOT require SSN's). then i realized the great big caveat with me making money off my blog is that...well, my parents don't really know about it...and if they did, i would mildly uncomfortably (and yet slightly titillated) by knowing that they would read the shit their child manifests every once in a blue moon.

i mean, there are really far too many sexual double entendres, references to drugs and orgies, and free animal porn for my parent's poor poor eyes to come across. i kid you not: my mother's eyes would bleed from the exposure.

then again...the extra income would be really nice. then again...that's what i said before i got chlamydia.

anywhore, i am in desparate need as of yet for some play things. i always forget that the down side to spring break in nashvegas is being bored. i know- that sounds lame, and i'm hoping that all the cool people who take the time to read my shitty ass blog don't think me uncool all of a sudden (even though i am), but nashville kind of totally sucks (...did you catch it? hehe). so, i spend most of my days eating foods and watching television and planning what i SHOULD do as my brain slowly shrinks in size, along with my testicles and self esteem. alas! what wouldn't i give for some mind altering play things to pass my days and help me gain weight (if you get my drift). let's think of what i have to offer. well, there is my virginity, but i technically lost that when i went to 'nam. i could give my dignity, but there isn't very much of it left since, well, i went to 'nam. i have my soul--i'll have it until i die at least, because i promised it to good ol' POD when i got into Yale. and i am completely out of any shame. damn! i am so worthless.

**dammit. every time i hear a pattering of feet in the house coming towards my room, i have to minimize my screen. i used to not worry about it since, let's be honest, all i am doing is writing in a blog. but one time, my mother came in, i closed the the page that was actually my blog (and left my posting page up) thinking to myself "phew! that was close. i'd hate for her to see XXX FREE KINKY PORN XXX in bright blue letters as a website that i was looking at." after talking, she left. and i realized the title of my blog, "XXX FREE KINKY PORN XXX" blatantly sat at the top of my window. *sigh* this situation kind of reminds me of the time i was at a friend's house, and it was at that age that boobies were still funny. so he turned the TV to some softcore yabbos, and immediately his mother opened the door. the two shared a few blank stares before she turned around, as if to ignore what she just saw.

punch line of the story: as soon as i left, he told me that his mother asked him about that, and he blamed the entire fiasco on me-- saying that i was the one who put the TV on that channel. excuse me? me? at that age watching soft core? PUH-LEASE. if it had been me, she would've walked in on us watching the smurfs...having hardcore, unprotected, kinky XXX orgies.

i wish i had some profound thoughts for the day, but i don't. i did come up with a funny line though. i sent someone a link to check out this loverly link. as with most people who don't trust links i give to them, i imed him saying:
"...and no, it is gay porn." i'd like to think it was a funny line.

does anyone know where i get can some cheap plastic surgery?

ciao, bitches. on that note, check out lindsay lohan's (aka busty hohan) message on paris hilton's sidekick. i don't think its busty hohan because the content is a bit ridic, but it does sound quite like that cokehead skank pot.

THANK GOD MARTHA'S BACK!!

this really is martha's best week ever! (i've probably watched about 8 hours of television...and by 8 hours, i really mean 12...but honesty n this case will make me look a lot lamer than i am. television i have watched includes: crank yankers, the inferno II, Dr. 90210 (love!), martha living, Once You Go Black, You Never Go Back, amongst many other softcore films).

i'm so glad that the bitch is back and better than ever. she's on the style channel right now gluing miniature pine cones to a wooden frame~ the point of this, i know not...nor do i know why i have kept the television on the channel for the "welcome home, martha: marathon." i'm a sick person.

i don't get the big deal with martha's sentence-- i mean, bitch tried to get away with insider trading that amounted to 100 grand-- BIG FUCKING DEAL! that's a pretty penny for her. so, if you look at it from her point of view, it really wasn't that much money. i mean, for the rest of us plebians, would you do a little insider trading to save you a thousand? i know i would becasue, damn, that 1000 bucks could buy me half a shoe-- that's if i didn't get caught, of course. and if i got caught, it wouldn't be so bad...i mean, bitch got even more publicity and a sky rocketing stock price. damn. she's gotta write a book so i can pretend like i read it. let's think about the good things martha has done for the world. 1) she has further domesticated females and homosexuals. enough said. without her, men would be going home to wives that don't even know how to julliene pears or make stylish hats out of dead pigeons (*news flash* she's gluing plastic animals to picture frames now~ o martha! what more could i ask for?). she's a bitch who made her way to the top in a world ruled by men. my hat and mirkin go off to her.

everyone waited for her to crash and burn...and, well, she did. but now, there's no shame for Martha Stewartenitzbergenstein. if loving martha is wrong, then i don't wanna be right!

i'm about to eat my 3rd blood orange for the day. my biggest pet peeve: peeling them myself. the orange oils get all over my fingers and that bothers me.

in other news, i revamped my ipod with the new ipod case i got (thanks xtos). it's a hot pink plastic case that's about as kinky as gummy bear porn. i decided to completely delete everything off my ipod and just add the music i wanted. i had too much music on my ipod for show-- aka "look at me and how much cool and trendy music i have on my ipod!" we all know that when it comes down to it, all i want to listen to is peaches, M.I.A., O-zone, and kelis.

anyway, welcome back, martha. you, my dear, are a good thing.

when i grow up, can i be dr. 90210's Dr. Rey...well, minus the karate...and hispanic blood.