outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- among other things, a kinky boot beast Several hours ago, Jessie was putting an entry in here, when all of a sudden, she clicked on a link. *Poof!* the entry was gone. Oh, fuck, said Jessie. My entry is gone. Mm hm, so I realize my entries have been rather snore-tastic lately, and I'm sorry. I don't really know what it's all about, but I sense that it has something to do with feeling inferior. I'm no glamour girl, and I don't lead a super-exciting life. Ha! Not in the least. I'd rather be me than super-exciting, but still, that doesn't excuse me from entertaining the likes of you. My brain has been in a state of utter apathy and atrophy and refuses to lay any claims to creativity. What I need is a more stimulating environment. My brain will never be disciplined enough to self-motivate. In order for it to run, it needs to think it's going to catch that rabbit. Mark my words, I'll be regretting I said that when my electromagnetism class starts on Thursday. My god, make it stop! Will the stimulation never end? Et cetera. I'm officially a kinky boot beast now, my fine fellow f-diarists. I was all skanked up on Saturday night. (that's a LIE; Jessie is anything but skanky) Ok, yeah, there was pain involved in breaking in the kinky boots...in fact, there's pain still...but so long as you can feel like a sexy mofo for a few hours, it's all worth it. And my dignity was only partially minimized at the hands of one or two random mullet men. For future reference: if you're going to go out with a chick you don't know, make sure it's a chick you won't like. Then you'll have more to talk about later with your real friends. For additional future reference: if one of your friends turns into a dancing queen whilst drunk, make sure you have brought her to a place where dancing can occur; aka, Old Drunk People and Crappy Cover Bands Are No Fun. Dearest Melissa: if by chance you are reading this, I would like to inform you that I have forgotten your handle and thus cannot find your place of cyber residence. Be a dear and drop me a note so I can get directions to your place. Shite. I said I'd evaluate twenty spectra before I go home. At the current rate, I'll be home by four o'clock tomorrow morning. (not that I've done the math or anything) 2:29 p.m. - 2002-01-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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