someone’s been feeding dimes to the crazies again!
I love love love my new little camera! I can make the stupidest little movies and send them out. I sent a hugely unattractive one to Lily yesterday.
So, we were all talking about car accidents. I don’t want to be injured in a car accident, I’d rather die than be disfigured. Now, granted, the Volvo makes a tank of a car that cannot be destroyed, my car has airbags, supplemental airbags, side curtains. Damn thing’s safer than my Saab! Anyway, I still don’t want to be disfigured in an accident.
I figure at the slightest impact I’ll just lose my will to live and die right there. The officers will be confused, but what the hell are you going to do? I don’t want to spend my life speaking at high schools about the day a drunk drive changed my life forever.
Lily and I exchanged videos, mine was my interpretation of me having to speak at a high school assembly. Hers was considerably less distasteful and featured her rocking out, if only for a few short seconds.
Love this camera I tell you.
Okay, the rumors about me being a total pig are true! I went to Evergreen for lunch with Mike. Had the tofu skin salad and the curried rice noodles, Mike had the Mandarin beef. We ate a little less than half and brought the rest home. Mike didn’t like his so I took it.
Came home, hungout with the boy, discovered that i was so impossible hungry and we cracked them open and ate them (I mostly ate the meat as he doesn’t). In 45minutes I’m going to eat chinese food with Dena and Levi! David Fong’s, BABY!
Man, I thought I had been to Evergreen with David. I guess I was wrong. We’ll to go.
Okay, time to put on some pants and go eat with the pals.
Keep your pimp hand strong you batshit crazy motherfucker!

Dear person who decided that it was a very good idea to allow telemarketers to call cell phones.
I sincerely hope that during one of your boring, weekely, predetermined, missionary position love making sessions your partner moves funny and bruises your testicles causing pain and swelling for some reason just won’t get better.
I hope the swelling continues for days. I hope when you check your bank balance after the direct deposit of the check that pays you for the work you do to be the most evil and corrupt human being on the planet your balls throb as they strain against your cheap wool blend slacks.
I pray that every time your phone rings it is at least two half brain dead college kids desperately trying to pay for beer, tuition, weed, rent, pizza and more beer on the sub-minimum wage salary they earn. I hope they keep you on the phone trying to wrangle you in to answering a few questions about your satisfaction with your checking account. Did you know you just won 2 tickets to Cancun?? Did you? All expenses paid! Two tickets to Cancun! They just need your credit card number and your soul. Oh, right, you don’t have a fucking soul.
You will get so many calls that you will go over your alloted cell minutes quickly and then not only will you take it in the ass from all the telemarketers who want to tell you about this fantastic business opportunity but also your cell phone company will want to get in on the action.
It’ll be a financial DP and I hope I’m there to film it. The money shot should be killer.
I hate you.
On the bright side I get to freak out telemarketer kids. I’ve gotten 3 so far (and I’m on the fucking do not call list).