she�s my MDMA
2001-10-11 - 10:39 p.m.
Sidenote: This entry is not much more than sidenotes, so I just omitted the �sidenote� warnings.
Lately, I�ve been writing 2do lists on sugar packets. When I don�t think I can do anything more, I tear open the packet and drop the sugar under my tongue to keep me going for just a bit longer.
Spent from 1:30am until 5:30am in Boston, playing loud music and laughing at things that normally wouldn�t have been funny. Got lost, and got lost again once we found ourselves. The party consisted of Mr. Green (reasonably charming and all-around-nice guy), Ayako (who is teaching me bits an pieces of Japanese), Nikki (who is compulsive about complaining about this college five times a day facing Drexel), and Emily (whom is sometimes on my nerves, but is overall fun because we can talk to each other in bad Maine accents)
Not that I really want one, but if I did have a unicycle, I�d get a cute little The Club (TM) to stick in-between the spokes so all the big bad bears wouldn�t steal it away from me while I was taking a leak on the Prudential Building (TM).
I had to sneeze in English (not the language, the class) and convinced myself not to, but ended up sneezing internally...somehow. Now I have allergies. This is werld shackin�. Hopefully it�s only for a day, like the other odd conditions that I seem to pick up (lower=body paralysis, pseudo-conjunctivitis, chronic coughing/choking, etc.) I�m starting to be able to control it now...to put it off like a sneeze. I doubt that is a healthy process, however. This may have something to do with eating that unidentified berry last night, but I doubt it. Maybe I�m just allergic to this college.
Do we err because we are human, or are we human because we err? And either way, can we really blame a person for acting human?
41 pages. That was the length of my psychology midterm. And it was really fun...all my examples referred the reader to consider the effects of Crystal Clear Pepsi and why it is no longer seen on the shelf.
There are holes in the walls. Lots of them...most likely made from one of my drunken suitemates. Erg.
My keyboard has too many keys, considering it only three locks.
Nail polish just isn�t my thing. I even think it�s sorta odd that it�s anybody�s thing, let alone a third of the US population. Bad chemicals go into it and everything. Likewise, pop music is not my thing. The whole idea behind this type of music (and some alternative bands as well) is to be catchy and stick in the listener�s head. But I don�t want to waste my precious brain power replaying songs over and over and over...that�s what CDs are for. I don�t want to waste my life singing someone else�s songs, saying someone else�s lines, thinking the thoughts that someone else thinks are cool.
A bum is one who bums, but does not necessarily have a bum-bum. But if the term is not specific to what is bummed, a bum might be able to bum a bum-bum. I guess the real question is: how much bum-bum could a bum bum, if a bum could bum bum-bums?
Becky. Beautiful as all Hel...blonde hair and blue eyes, but she�s got a tiny scar above her right eye that�s just to die for. She came into my room a few days ago and shared a couple cloves with me, to make the room smell a bit better and say hello and stuff. Redefined the term of �sweetie�. I was starting to forget that such people exist. Spread a couple more cloves around, talked with stoned people, and got homework and laundry done in the interstitial spaces. Wrestled a guy in my suite, but he had 70lbs one me, so it pretty much just dissipated off without a real winner. Spot of rugburn on my left elbow and right triceps; this was my first time wrestling someone who actually knew something about the sport since sophomore year. But damn, if only she were a couple inches shorter...grrrn-rrrr.
A few days ago, I found jesus on the internet. My plan was to keep him in a jar, but my dresser was full of deities-in-jars already, so I just squished him flat and put him onto my computer background. This weekend (unassociated with a trip to the aquarium and watching X-rated hypnosis that has also bee planned) I plan to squish my jesus into three two-dimensional cows with the aid of common everyday toothpicks. Art is amazing stuff.
David. The magician. Anther all-around-nice guy who owns a pair of disappearing doves. I think maybe Nikki and I will get together with him to see X-rated hypnotism or something of that nature.
Sometimes I wonder what it takes to join the Independent Order of Odd Fellows.
