My friend is being stalked by her ex.

And I think it's he funniest shit in the world.

You know when you ask for a massage, and then someone beats the fuck out of you and tears your shoulder muscles to shreds?

Yeah, I like that.

My father and I decided to take a drive today.

Hold on, it gets better.

We were talking about halloween, and all of a sudden we drive past a pumpkin farm. My father and I, both holding a rebellious and ballsy gene, debated on whether we should take a pumpkin. It was a big moral and ethical debate. But, then again, what harm could come from taking a pumpkin, right?

Long story short, we have a free pumpkin, and a 16 dollar dry-cleaning bill.

The pumpkin would've cost us 1.50.

We still rock,

3

I fucking hate so called "suicidals".

Hate, hate, hate, HATE, HATE, FUCKING HATE.

"My boyfriend just wants me for sex. What should I do?"

Dump him, you dumb bitch.

"But what if he rapes me. I'm going to kill myself. D"

Because DYING is a whole fucking lot better than fucking someone you've already fucked before. Right?

I hate weak teenage angst cases that think being "suicidal" is cool, that they'll get sympathy on comforting from me, and even a fucking blowjob on the side. WRONG, YOU CUNTS.

WHY do you think it's cool to get attention from a negative source. HOW can you take yourself seriously by making a mockery of such a serious issuse. The only fucking way you will ever get any fucking sympathy from me is if I ask you what's wrong first, or if you truly, deeply, severely need someone to talk to. [Which means, you aren't telling any and every fucker. I don't like it when people brag about their problems.] Oh yeah, and stop thinking suicide's a logical answer to any kind of relationship problems. You just end up looking like a giant douchebag.

I hope you know you're a fuckhead,

3

Nam, Weasel, Thinker, Lostinmyownmind, you know this isn't to you. Or anyone else on mindsay, for that matter.

But I will dig your left tit out with a rust spoon if any of you start.

It had dawned upon me that I am to be on the radio for four months in four months time. I wanted to have a comedy section, tangled with music.

It has recently hit me that I don't know how to be funny without swearing, or being vulgar.

Fuck.

I cannot be held responsible for my lack of updates. In compensation, however, I will recap my day. At least my lunch, because that's the only time I wasn't completely asleep for.

Because I have yet to get a car of my very own, I suckered my dear friend into chauferring me around town. Well, to a place that he was already going, but I tagged along because I could. You see, I wanted to see my best friend, and unfortunately she now resides somewhere where I do not- therefore my dear friend, the one with the car, agreed to drive me to the establishment in which she does. So, I got into his car, and looked around, and, suffice to say, for a highschool student, it was pretty fucking classy. Winnie-The-Pooh handle grip and all. I think I had wheel envy. Soon, we drove out of our school's parking lot, and we were on our way to Queen Elizabeth's, the institution which my soul-sister is schooled in.

He began with idle chatter, but I must admit I was rather vacant throughout the entire conversation. Not because I was deep in philosphical thought, or day dreaming about the girl I was about to see. No, no, it was because I was too busy yelling

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU, A MANIAC? SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. WHY THE FUCK DON'T YOU HAVE HOLY-SHIT HANDLES? WATCH OUT FOR THE KID."

We arrived at the school in about two minutes - usually a ten minute drive -, and I got my ass out of that car. We went to look for one of our mutual friends first, so that she could lead me to my dearheart. She lead us to her horde first, but alas, my friend was not there. I proptly asked "Where the fuck is that bitch", and they responded, "Pissing"

Fuck. She's always pissing.

So, instead I cuddle-hugged with my other, quite gay friend. He missed me. I know he missed me, because I missed the fuck out of him.

Eventually, my dear stopped pissing, and I proceeded to tackle her and hump her against a wall. I missed her, too. After I had.. Well, finished, we decided ( along with gayfriend and raver chick ) to go for a long walk into the middle of our town's ghetto. We found a small, very run down playground, and we sat, and changed my lovedone's lip ring.

Over the span of thirty minutes.

"What the fuck, you still haven't got that in?"

"FUCK YOU, I HAVE SMALL BALLS, OKAY."

"WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR LIP?"

"YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING CUMSLUT."

We love each other. When she finally got the ring in, it was nearly time for me to leave, and so we headed back to the school, talking to stray cats and ghetto pitbulls on the way.

Oh, yess. Ad I pushed her into traffic.

Soon, I had to hug them all goodbye, with an extra-long hug from my gayboy, and get in the car with Mr I'LLFUCKINGPLOWDOWNASENIOR again.

He said we were late, so we'd have to go twice as fast.

I commenced shitting myself.

Cheers.

It'll be more regular this time, I swear.

3

The almighty t-rex has such little, gay arms. It's like it's in a perpetual state of "Hay boiz. ;)"

Which rests my case that gay people should be running the world. Like the T-rex.

A friend recently asked me why the titles to my entries rarely have any relevance to the entries themselves.

All I could say was: "So how about this weather we've been having?"

You know what I hate?

 . . How many of you guessed everything?

I fucking hate Internet ads. Now, contrary to popular belief, I can deal with pop ups. I even think they're kind of fun. I personally like clicking little x's that companies are probably paying 50 dollars a month for.

But dumbfuck, pop-cultured-out-the-fucking-ass banners piss me off.

"Is Suri Cruise real?"

"Is Brandon Ruth gay? Click here to find out!"

What the fuck do I care if Mr Batshit-Crazy and his rat-toothed wife lied about popping out Batteeth Jr. And I don't fucking care if Superman is banging fucking monkies on the weekend. It's none of my business.

Furthermore, why would I trust a fucking site that can't even spell "Eminem" right with my 'valuable' celebrity news. Sure, you know whether or not he's snorting cocaine off some hooker's balls, but you can't quite decide if its "M&M" or "Emandem".

Fucking assholes.