Wednesday, March 23, 2005

i realize that i love stories about love. this would explain a predisposition towards anything written by milan kundera. in fact, i may very well be a complete sap for the concept itself. the part in plato's 'symposium' where aristophenes speaks up can well turn me into a giddy schoolgirl, kneesocks and all. i'm a jerk for romance. i have created romantic scenerios for no one in particular. i have occasionally been known to follow threw on such moments of fancy. these moments usually involve random dancing, sometimes even with the support of street musicians. i even hold a few grand little romantic schemes that i would share, but would like to imagine i will get to execute them on my own someday.

i am, however, terrible at actual love. i'm not particularly good at falling into it, not well equipped to be in it, and certain and painstakingly horrible at falling out of it. it does seem that i may be afraid of the one thing i may actually be any good at, if i could actually get around to doing it right just once. then again, it's likely that i'm hardly the first person to think of themselves like this and thus i should likely put down any good ideas in a little book and try to sell it off as one of those horrible little books that tell people all kinds of incredibly dull romantic ideas to do with their partner. this is an idea. not a very good idea, but an idea nonetheless. otherwise i could begin looking for someone who can accept all of my peculiar faults (requiring someone with immense patience) or someone who would not notice (requiring someone of exceptional obliviosity) or someone who would enjoy them (requiring a slight to moderate mental imbalance, which i may be able to handle. preferably this person would be non-violent and/or medicated and likes to share).

now, i was hoping to write something enlightening and personal. well, i'm not so sure i've succeeded in the latter and am fairly certain i've bombed in the former. that said, i'm going to go read my book and enjoy all the funny little parts about quirky love.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

so a list has been made of the top five internet scams people fall for. except for the first one which involved buying something online and never receiving it, the rest are absolutely fucking ridiculous, and it's hard not to say that people who fall for this kind of shit get what they deserve. my personal favorite, number close attention to the "what you should ask yourself" part:

3. Nigerian 419 Letter
The setup: You receive an e-mail, usually written in screaming capital letters, that starts out like this:
The letter says the scammers are seeking an accomplice who will transfer the funds into their account for a cut of the total--usually around 30 percent. You'll be asked to travel overseas to meet with the scammers and complete the necessary paperwork. But before the transaction can be finalized, you must pay thousands of dollars in "taxes," "attorney costs," "bribes," or other advance fees.
What actually happens: There's no minister and no money--except for the money you put up in advance. Victims who travel overseas may find themselves physically threatened and not allowed to leave until they cough up the cash. (FYI, "419" is named for the section of Nigeria's penal code that the scam violates.)
The risk: Serious financial loss--or worse. Victims of Nigerian letter fraud lose $3000 on average, according to the FBI. Several victims have been killed or gone missing while chasing a 419 scheme.
The question you've gotta ask yourself: Of all the people in the world, why would a corrupt African bureaucrat pick me to be his accomplice?

good fucking question you jibbering slugmonkey grundlesmuggler! go die! here's another fucking question, how the hell did you manage to make the 3,000 bucks to begin with seeing as how you obviously have trouble with breathing and other basic concepts. fucktards!

Monday, March 14, 2005

i've just purchased a new copy of the complete 'hitchhikers guide to the galaxy' trilogy (all six stories). i once owned a copy of the complete 'hitchhikers' from the late 80's or early 90's that had the first 4 stories. considering i finished the series some ten years back (and my old copy of the trilogy went lost sometime in high school) i'm pretty excited. i've decided that unless i'm consistently reading fiction on at a semi-daily basis at the minimum, i'm compeletely and utterly fucking worthless. seriously. i dont think properly, nothing seems proportionate, my imagination goes flat like day old soda. everything begins to taste like bologna. the shower occasionally smells like sewage (this, however, may be a real problem with my building. i smell great! fuckslugs!). so, anyway, i'm happy i'll have something to read for a while now. i dont know how i've read so little fiction in the past two years. i can could the number of books on two hands. still, in one month i managed to read 4 books and still get a paper finished. really though, i wonder why i have the need to read fiction. it's like an addiction. yes. more fiction. gimmie. or, you know, real drugs will do.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

thank you snoop dogg, thank you

and now, a new verizzle of the second to last postizzle:

thus far i have: poisoned me wit absinthe (unda tha influence of which i was driven ta steal bread), threatened mah shot calla wit bodily harm, 'finished' a papa (that is 26 pages n likely needs ta shed some of those), finished 'read'n lolita in tehran' started kundera's 'laughable loves,' discovered thizzat while i may be doom'n me ta a life of solitude i do not have ta be miserable `bout it (-N-to-tha-izzot that i have been, nor have i actually taken any of this seriously cuz its a G thang. so perhaps, in tizzle wizzy i've inadvertantly doomed myself. fuck . Subscribe nigga, get yo issue.! i'm doomed!), decided i need ta git a haircut, written a motherfucka ta one al gore, bizzle saddled wit a broken sippin' machine, decided only ta smoke chronic motherfucka explosions n poison'n, discovered tha joy of mak'n lists, been ta tha beach several times, made shawty heezeeway in try'n ta figure out mah future, managed ta eat less cheese, realized tizzy i am, indeed, tha single mizzost dull person on earth. FUCK . Throw yo guns in the motherfuckin air! well, in thizzat case, i'm off ta see tha aviatizzle!

Saturday, March 05, 2005

thus far i have: poisoned myself with absinthe (under the influence of which i was driven to steal bread),
threatened my printer with bodily harm,
'finished' a paper (that is 26 pages and likely needs to shed some of those),
finished 'reading lolita in tehran' started kundera's 'laughable loves,'
discovered that while i may be dooming myself to a life of solitude i do not have to be miserable about it (not that i have been, nor have i actually taken any of this seriously. so perhaps, in that way, i've inadvertantly doomed myself. fuck! i'm doomed!),
decided i need to get a haircut,
written a letter to one al gore,
been saddled with a broken washing machine,
decided only to smoke cigarettes after explosions and poisoning,
discovered the joy of making lists,
been to the beach several times,
made little headway in trying to figure out my future,
managed to eat less cheese,
realized that i am, indeed, the single most dull person on earth. FUCK! well, in that case, i'm off to see the aviator...again!