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[08 Sep 2006|09:08pm] |
If you want to follow me, please add ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8) ghostofbminor. If not, peace.
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[08 Sep 2006|08:44am] |
My Personality
| | Neuroticism | | Extraversion | | Openness To Experience | | Agreeableness | | Conscientiousness | |
view my full report.
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[05 Sep 2006|11:29am] |
( personal )
honesty kills.
I`d say that you`ll wake up one day cold and alone. But you won`t. You`ll most likely end up next to a cold-hearted warm body, maybe even an std, or with an empty bottle, and empty memory-- an empty heart. Feel free-- you`ve been cold to me for a while now. I know what it`s like to wake up next to a beyond-cold and verging on empty-hearted warm body. I`m glad I don`t have to be best friends with that corpse for the rest of my life. I`ve been holding in these words every time you do this to me, but I can`t anymore. I have given you second chances. I have given you thirds, fourths, fifths. I have always done the work-- the driving, the calling, and most of the paying. I`m finished. I`m as done with you as you`ve been with yourself since your accident (which, by the way, is no longer a valid excuse). And if it is-- I don`t want to be best friends with a walking excuse. You`d think that with all of your imperfections on the outside because of your accident, you`d want to be a more beautiful person on the inside. Good luck with that. Peace.
ps. facebook sucks hardcore now.
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[04 Sep 2006|08:36pm] |
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The story of the weeping willow penis. I told Mathieu today. Well, it started with a weeping willow penis. He was always weeping and bent over, limp, and sad. One day, a girl told him he was pretty. He stood up straight. His father saw this and got quite angry. He said, "Weeping willow, I want you to sit up straight, but no more girls. From now on, I want you to weep into my butt." And so he did.
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[04 Sep 2006|08:23pm] |
NEW BERN.
So Matt picks me up last night, we drive to New Bern, get there at 3am, wake up this morning, and go have a New Bern adventure.
( pictures? )
And you know there had to be a graveyard invovled in all of this...
( Innapropriate, most definitely. )
I feel so guilty about having so much fun that I`m actually doing homework for the next two days. I`m such a perfectionistic over-achiever. Oh, and Matt and I are going to another graveyard tomorrow!
J`adore ce garcon, c`est vrai.
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[03 Sep 2006|04:38pm] |
Once upon a time, there was no way to measure height. No rulers, no yardsticks, nil. A very intelligent, tall man wanted to know the height of others`. While he didn`t care much for his own height, he decided to concoct a way to measure others`. He discovered the inch. Using the space between his thumb knuckle and the end of his thumbnail, he defined this distance `the inch`. He went around measuring people, inch by inch, and documenting height. Soon, height became a big deal. You had to be a certain height to ride roller coasters. You had to marry someone taller than you as a female to a male. Many things were decided on height. Even Napoleon syndrome became a factor for short men at this point. One day, a man with Napoleon syndrome (as if you didn`t know, this is when short men must prove they are just as good as regular men, just shorter, by showing off and acting as general asses-- also known as overcompensation) became fed up with this inch and this banter and importance of height. He knew that the very intelligent, tall man was the only man with the perfect inch in his thumb. What did this Napoleon syndrome sufferer do? Cut off his thumb. Both of them. Ate them, and refused to stop until they were completely digested after many times of them coming out in his feces (yes, he ate them until there were no more signs of the inch thumbs). (He was quite a disciplined man-- much liken to a ninja). Height was put to a halt. Napoleon syndrome man had victory! The end.
Feel dumber for reading this? It`s okay-- I read your Myspace bulletins, so the least you can do is read my stories.
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