nuclear_volante

Every time I think in my head that "I got dumped for a fat chick," I can't help but laugh. It's not even an insult to me because when comparing yours truly to a Hungry Hungry Hippo with more than two teeth, it just has to make one feel pretty goddamn good, doesn't it? Even Tony Curtis at his current state is more attractive than a hippopotamus; however, separated by a very thin line. It sounds like the type of shit that happens in a ridiculously funny teen/young folk movie or some kind of a sitcom. Every time that either Tyler or I says it out loud, shit is just hilarious. The phrase "I got dumped for a fat chick" just rolls off the tongue with a silly ring to it. It still beats me how somebody would choose to fuck a pot roast with a pulse over an asian of hot commodity in terms of modern times and the popular "yellow fever" running amock in our generation. I have no mercy for the obese. Give me a chance or the right opportunity and I will rip them a new one right in front of their face - because it's all true; aside from those with thyroid problems because you can't help that shit. I'm sorry but I like to be able to walk on a sidewalk without having to step onto the street for eight or ten feet just to be able to pass one human being that closely resembles Jabba the Hut on a wheelbarrow. Shit shouldn't work that way. If you think that ordering a salad at TGI Friday's with a Diet Coke and four mini desserts is considered as a diet, then I may as well throw in the towel and join a convent and hump lawn displays for the rest of my life. Jesus fucking Christ. And take a motherfucking bath, for Christ's sake - no matter how many adjustable handle brushes you have to use just to scrub your crotch. Just don't walk around smelling like cottage cheese and foot odor.

Gone With the Wind (1939)
I honestly watched this film because not only was I looking for some nice Clark Gable eye candy to glorify at for four goddamn hours, but I figured it would take me an entire day, or weekend - to finish; being that I take plenty of bathroom and Facebook breaks. It took me a total of six hours to complete viewing the movie. Did I like it? Yes, I enjoyed it. What did I think of it? Overrated. Granted, it is good, but it didn't make me soil my panties like it did to pretty much the entire rest of the world's population for the past seventy years - perhaps because it isn't exactly for my tastes. I never took an interest to the Civil War era, Scarlett O'Hara is a bitch, yadda yadda yadda. What I enjoyed the most out of this film was how it was spectacularly made for its time - the cinematography, the Technicolor, the musical score, the acting, and of course the ensemble cast. One more time - I dig Clark Gable's ass. No wonder he had the authority to be a womanizer. A Clark Gable rant is in store for the future. Please remind me to do so.

I still want to go home very badly. Even though, I actually could leave right now. I pissed off my mother so much at a restaurant the other day that she said she wasn't going to stop me if I left early. The only thing is, I'm more broke than New Jersey politics. Buuuurn! So I'm stuck flying with my original three-fucking-week ticket.

When I get home, I know exactly who I am going to call. Three weeks is a long time, not gonna lie.

My parents took me with them to go to their friend's house to pick up some kind of food. While I was waiting for them to finish their fucking small talk and was tampering with my phone, I felt a tickle going down my left hand on the arm rest of a large chair that I was sitting on. Ants were crawling on me. I brushed them off and immediately jumped from my seat. This is an omen telling me to get the fuck out of California. All of these fucking ants.

It was strange, because that house was larger than that of my parents' therefore that family is wealthier than us. And to think that a wealthier house should be ant-free. But then again, and as I have said, it could just be my dirty, scummy ass.

I am extremely bored. California is so goddamned anti-everything. Many public places or residential areas don't allow skating or bicycling, nor smoking. Smoking is so looked down upon that they only designate smoking areas the size of a child's asshole in some far, far corner up somebody's asshole in theme parks, parks, schools, buildings, et cetera. San Francisco, as much as I love that city, is all about going green and using biodegradable materials and all of that bullshit. They're horrible with smokers as well. I think they should stop spending money on prohibiting such activities that are relatively harmless to the general population if used properly, and start saving up funds to fix this fucking state's broke ass. But that's just me - I'm selfish.

I really don't understand the LiveJournal culture. I mean, I don't understand how certain people's journals are so popular yet their material is not all that interesting. Just because somebody chooses to actually pay money from out of their wallet just to maintain an online fucking journal, just to be able to personalize it to your own stupid fucking taste, and then add some bland, typical, user-friendly anecdote about their happy-go-lucky life onto it and all of a sudden the whole world loves your unknown-online-stranger ass. Yeah, makes perfect sense.

Is it just me, or does Starbucks coffee especially make you get the shits moreso than any other coffee? I don't mind the extra boost in metabolism and the emptying of the previous night's dinner, but damn, son. Every time, and I swear, every goddamn time that I drink a small (not tall) coffee from Starbucks, no more than thirty minutes later I have to take a mondo dump. Granted, it feels great - but it's kind of odd and it makes me feel like a poop machine because of the perfect timing.

So after walking out of my friend's house today with a contact high after hanging out with her, her boyfriend, his several roommates and a guy from school, I discovered a scratch on the back of my car. Some asshole in the parking deck back on campus dinged my black Nissan Maxima with their fucking white car. Yeah thanks, shitbag. Next time you decide to drive into somebody's car, make sure that your car is the same color as theirs.

I now understand why guys pretend to do that yawn and "smoothly" stretch their arm to put it around a girl's shoulders as both are sitting on a sofa or whatnot. It's so that they have the girl's head in a death lock in order to push her head down into his crotch. I think it would be best not to ask me how I just recently discovered that today. It's not as bad as you think it is.

I believe that it is not relatively typical of me, but lately this week I have just been in the most pissed off damn mood. I guess it began with a pretty rough start. Mind you, Superbowl Sunday was great, however - went to the bar, $35 open-bar that included food, got hammered beyond belief, puked a couple of times, got home, passed out, and then was still smashed five hours later upon waking up for school enough to even forget how to wash my hair. I drink like a goddamn dude. No joke, hard liquor and beer is the only way to drink, son.

But anyway, I digress. The next night after Superbowl Sunday, I think, I was very exhausted from both not having gotten enough rest the night before, and school always busts me the fuck out. Now here is the ultimate ball-buster: my mom's friend who has been crashing at our house, who lives in the other room adjacent to my basement pad, snores like a fucking tugboat on Percasec. Add that bullshit on top of me still being able to hear my father snoring on the floor above me in his room. And what highly irritated me even more is that since I have been out doing so much shit out of the house, the exhaustion that derives from it allows me to fall asleep without the aid of pills and other various candies of that sort, therefore finally breaking my insomnia, is fucking ruined. Instead of just plain old insomnia not letting me sleep, it's external sources now that are not allowing me to sleep - and this happens when I am able to fall asleep by myself. But these assholes won't allow me. External sources are harder to control than just myself being an asshole. Fucking A.

The idea of quitting the habit of ingesting caffeine has been lingering in my mind lately. It all started with yesterday when I began to stop drinking it, and it ended today. Anybody ever tell you that I don't have the tendency for addiction? Part of the reason of which I am willing to part with coffee is that even if I stop drinking coffee for just one day, it is a hell of a fucking lot more painful than quitting smoking, I can tell you that! But true indeed, there are many paradoxes in this paragraph but I just thought that I would waste your and my time - just because I could.