May 20th 12:45 am
Can you believe that I'm gonna update again so soon after that ridiculous barrage of entries earlier today. Or as my mom would say "what da 'ell you got ta say, that's so dang interesting? Eh?" Actually my mom's not that much of a gutter slut, but I really liked starting an entry off with that. Sounds more like an nineteenth century bar wench don't it? Had I been born in the eighteen hundreds... I woulda been a scurvy serving wench no doubt about it. "Glass of ale for ya? You won't be 'aving your dirty way wit me tonight laddie." Ok so I'd be the sluttier of the scurvy serving wenches. Probably have a nickname like "good time Charlene"... god this is scary, make me stop.
GODZILLA COMES OUT TODAY!!!
Ok, so moving on to something less filling yet apparently not a full meal, I now presents today's entry of nonsensical babble from yours truly... TA DA!!!
***Someone hide the stupid pills I'm O'Ding here.***
I know on several occasions I'll read a diary or a journal and certain things make me shake my head and question aloud just what in the hell was going through someone's head when they wrote this or that. I do believe I'm officially in that category now. And I'm telling ya baby, its not good company to be in. :P
I'm trying this again....
May 20th 12:56 am
Ok, here goes. I've been thinking alot the last couple of days about the whole net thing and just how much interaction is too much and how much is not enough. I know that I often wanna (even though I never do) share more with people on my Email list. Several of these people aren't really official friends in that we've never done the obligatory run from the cops after a dash and dine, but I consider them friends regardless. So of course I wonder what they in turn think of me, or just how horrified they would be if I started mailing them repeatedly, etc.
I remember how creepy I felt when I first started this journal and started to respond back to people that would contact me. And I know I was WAY too personal on several occasions. But I held the belief and still do that if you are gonna read my diary and feel the desire <and good taste> to comment on it, then I have the right in turn to ask you incriminating stuff about yourself. How you deal with it is your business.
I know this was going somewhere, hold on.... That's right, I'm manic and thus have no continuous flow of conscious thought so do bear with me today. Basically I want to write about five mails to friends tonight, yet am a bit uncertain as to whether or not I'll do it. I want to share some stuff and ask some stuff as well. I feel a bit uncertain though and don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable... oh god that sounds so pathetic and neurotic. Next topic...
Rachel has an amazing painting on today's journal entry... The Awakening (or is merely Awakening) by Eva Gonzales. I was so intrigued with it I did a search and came up with this URL. I'm a bit partial to the soldier boy painting. I love portraits, especially when the artist leaves you wondering about the subject painted. See mom, reading other's people's diaries has enriched my life... and you thought I was just being nosy.
Tonight we went out for sushi and sake. I could expand on the severity of po' white trash that was there, but it would just make me appear petty and fickle. But I will say that you would think most people would have it figured out that a tank top and a ball cap are not appropriate unless you are eating in a Denny's.
Greg has yet another non English roommate. Yesterday his cousin's cousin showed up with a backpack and a case of beer. He's not impressed, yet he tolerates it. So basically we've had these horrid visions of his apartment becoming an outreach center of sorts for displaced persons. As we were coming home tonight we could hear them all laughing and talking from the time we entered the building and as we progressed up the stairwell we could see billows of black smoke hanging in the air. We both assumed the obvious.. they were cooking, drinking and waxing poetic and let the dinner burn. Wrong. As we got up we could hear them all talking and apparently they were getting ready to head out to a club and the stove spontaneously combusted. Yep, just broke into flames... VS breaking into a rendition of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive".
Greg was just heartsick for the rest of the night. He kept looking around at the art he's been collecting since he was 18 and wondering aloud just how devastated he would've been had he lost it all. Pieces that artists had given him as presents, stuff that he'd made, and the pieces he'd bought. I took him out for a sundae and we sat in the park while the electrical smoke cleared out of the apartment. Poor guy, he was quite upset.
Speaking of being upset... housepest number two has broken a piece of blown glass that is in one of Greg's fixtures (lighting) and has yet to confess. He's biding his time and giving it a few days. If he doesn't confess Greg's gonna go Loreena Bobbitt on him. Greg doesn't care about the money, it's the consideration of saying "OOPS".
Hmmm, what else. Greg and I had a HUGE discussion about the whole Protestant Catholic thing and we were disagreeing bigtime. But then again he's a Catholic. God, everyone I know is Catholic it seems. The group in the kitchen became eerily quiet while I was ranting... they're all Catholic btw. It was funny in that I think that they thought we were actually having a fight. It started out an innocent enough discussion about him not going to heaven due to not being able to finish the seven sacraments. And then I made the brilliant observation of how the church was man's law and not god's. It just when on and on and on... dare I say it was a most dogmatic discussion. Not sure if I won, but I gave it my pagan best I did.
Sounds like the roomie is home... I'm off to hear if Sliding Doors is worth seeing or not. Laters babes...
PS: Can you believe my spellcheck actually suggested Houseguest instead of Housepest... I just don't see the correlation.