Shakespeare is a fake.

Nothing. Just "Shakespeare is a fake." And a whore. Shakespeare is a fake and a whore.

These rats.

I have these big, black rats in my head right now. Their feet and snouts are made of splintered glass and they've mistaken the various areas of my brain as rat food. They've been scurrying and stabbing around in my head for a few days now, carving bloody channels in the soft, gray substance between my ears. I'm afraid to go to a doctor because, if you were a doctor and I walked in and said, Hey, doc, what's going on. I got these rats..."? Needless to say the pain caused by these rats makes it hard to live. Yesterday I bent over to pick something up and all the rats pulled out switchblades and started running up the sides of my skull, so I left the thing on the floor where I dropped it. If I really need to get it, I'll pick it up with my feet. Tylenol, which usually does the trick is doing no such trick this time. Quite frankly, I'm in hell. Pretty soon these rats are going to start gnawing at the backs of my eyeballs and I have class in 13 minuets. Fuck.

Malcontent anyone?

So it appears at this time I don't like more things/people/places than I do like. If that doesn't change, it's your fault.

People and Places and Things I Don't Like (in NO order whatsoever)

From A Buick 8 (I love Stephen King's books, but this one just sucked ass cock), this apocalyptic pall that's fallen over the world (fuck Iraq, fuck war, let's go get pizza), censorship (I had a great joke in my most recent character bio and thanks to CENSORSHIP no one will know just how clever and disdainful I was about Trojan Women's director), wastes of time (I mean, I only have a few years left, I don't want to spend them on line at the Post Office or waiting for a fat person to order the most fattening thing on the menu at some fast food joint), low-hanging things (BECAUSE I BANG MY FUCKING HEAD ON THEM!), people who get angry at my height (Wow. Go fuck yourselves. Jealous ass pug-fuglies), not having money to buy cool shit (because life is less cool without cool shit), not having a job (because without a job, I can't get money for cool shit...duh), being a lazy fuck (because...eh), Fred Durst and all the musical atrocities he has helped to create (BURN IN HELL YOU PUNK ASS BITCH MOTHERFUCKER! If I had the ability to kill one person throughout history, it would be this spot of cock grease. Never before have people SERIOUSLY worshipped such a talentless dick cheese.), the people that SERIOUSLY worship Fred Durst (What's worse than being Hitler? Being a Nazi.), music in general today (every time I turn on the radio I want to stick infected penises in my ears so I won't have to endure the shit flying over the airwaves. Yes, I said it, I'd rather have diseased semen in my ears than listen to the radio), my school's cafeteria (since when is a sub-standard chicken wrap $7? You money-grubbing bastards.), the Olsen twins (their feces is worth than my life...seriously), consequences and laws (if there were neither, we could all be who we really are underneath the social constraints and trappings that TV and school and our churches and our parents have buried us. The REAL you is a terrible person, think about it...), people who use drugs and alcohol as excuses for idiotic behavior (if you're old enough to drink or old enough to score off some greasy burn out dealer then you're fucking old enough to take responsibility for your actions, fuckhead.), these reality shows-- American Idol, Married By America, the numerous dating shows (I would gladly kill each and every asshole participating on these shows. These GODDAMN divas in the making on American Idol, these poor, desperate morons on Married by America and each and every one of the sluts-- male and female--dead in a heartbeat and I wouldn't even TRY to give a shit. Oh and lest I forget, Man vs. Beast. A Japanese man versus a bear in a hot dog eating contest? Why don't terrorists ever attack these fucks? The state of television today is just like the radio except for the Simpsons.), itchy balls (no way to do THAT politely)

People and Places and Things I Like (in NO order whatsoever)

Prince (he's lovesexy), They Might Be Giants (they make me feel smarter than a lot of people), being damn tall (aside from the occasional blows to the head provided by low-hanging things, it's awesome. I can intimidate 90% of the world- the other 9% are big, black men and then there's that one percent consisting of random white people that I cannot intimidate/ intimidate me, these people include BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO: Christopher Walken, Willem DaFoe, John Malkovich, Crispin Hellion Glover and a few others), pizza (it's bread, cheese and tomato sauce, but how awesome is it?), Christina (cause she just rubbed my head and made my leg twitch), Resident Evil/Silent Hill type video games (because it's so hard to be frightened in life without worrying about real bodily harm), acting (because I bore myself sometimes), Nine Inch Nails (because they make music today suck in comparison), Marilyn Manson (because people really think he's the anti-christ), ejaculation (such a release), James Bond (because you know that by the end of the movie he will have had sex with AT LEAST three different women), Cake (their lead singer seems to really loathe all their fans, but his fans still exist...do we hate ourselves or what?), Depeche Mode on heroin (Songs of Faith and Devotion is an amazing album...thanks to Dave Gahan was chasing the dragon), gay priests (you gotta love the paradox they embody), the G.I. Joe psa's over at Lumpen.com (very seldom do I cry with laughter), New York City (especially in juxtaposition with, oh...I don't know...Longwood, Florida), Moxy Fruvous (for having THE DORKIEST FANS I HAVE EVER SEEN. These fucking Fruheads must NEVER get ass unless they rely on their respective household pets), The Simpsons (because it's all that is good and right in the world), large, open-ended lists that can be continued whenever...(because...well...)

Oh yeah baby, sex me up

There we go. My journal no longer looks like something the fucking Olsen twins would write their secret crushes in...
"Dear Diary, Today Comet licked us and it made us feel weird...but good...Like when Uncle Jesse does it...or Dave...or Daddy...or Cousin Balki...or Steve Urkel...or the rest of the TGIF Family...please help us, we're constantly being molested by older, untalented actors....someone kill us."

That's fucking talent...

Wow, my girlfriend is really fucking talented. Let's see...what can I do...uh...well...I can't find an apartment in the city...I can't find a job that I want to do AND that will have me...uh....I...can...bore people with my journal? And...uh...hm. Oh wait! I know! I CAN SUCK MY OWN DICK! HA! TAKE THAT, ROSS PEROT!

WHAT THE SHIT

All right. This is the LAST first entry I am making. My original entry (I Have A Journal) WAS deleted, but then apparently posted. I commented on the fact that it was deleted in the third entry (third in position, not in chronological order) and then I saw that the original first entry WAS NOT deleted so I made a third comment (which appears second for some fucking stupid reason I can never begin to comprehend) on that fact. There. So this is it. I will NEVER shop at this store again. But still, FUCK THE PO-LEESE!

What a terrible foot to get off on

Ok...this is messing with my head. Although the first entry (I Have A Journal) WAS deleted...I checked my Journal (which looks very 8th grade chic...) and it appeared to NOT have been deleted. Uh...well...FUCK THE PO-LEESE!

What a terrible foot to get off on

FUCK YOU INTERNET! I had my first fucking entry all typed up and ready to rock but the WHORES that control this fascist regime fucked it completely up. Well, if I never post again, it'll be because of you, you slut bags!

I have a journal

Event? What does that mean? Am I supposed to have a reason for writing this? Well EAT ME! You can't make me have a reason for ANYTHING! Ha. Sucka. Okay...so this will probably go the way of my fucking web site that get approximately 4 hits per ever so why am I bothering? Oh yes, because it sounded really cool at the time. Meh. I suppose I don't really need a journal for purgative purposes since anything I need to talk about I talk to friends and anything I wouldn't tell my close friends I am certainly not going to put on the Internet. Granted, the concept of the Internet is wonderful: This sea of anonimity that one can just cast off their personal and emotional falderal into, but, come on, we've all seen the Matrix. God I'm even boring myself.