justnick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There's a weapon of mass seduction hidden in my pants BGM: "1998" - Rancid My hands are cold. My hands stop working when they get cold. I hate having gimpy hands. It's humiliating. I'm tired. I want to get a good night's sleep for once. I was looking at this girl's bum today, and when she turned around she was like 15. It made me feel really dirty. Girls that young shouldn't be allowed to dress in low rise tight ass-jeans. It's just not fair. I want someone to come restring my guitar for me, because I'm too lazy. La Boom tonight is going to suck, but I'm gonna go anyway. Hey! A dollar! OK, so life isn't that bad. So here's my plan for the night, kiddies, because I know you wanted to ask. I'm going to have a few drinks with the possee (my possee has been reduced to one person tonight, apparently. I'm just that cool) and then go dance the night away. You know what bothers me? Those guys who think it makes you gay if you like dancing, not just grinding. Like, I can dance with a guy if a song is good. Really doesn't bother me. I mean, if they think that makes me gay, what does it make me when I dance with my mother? Hey, what? I'm entitled. Aah, screw all of yaz. Facists. OK, now I need your opinions, silent masses. For My New Years shindig, do I charge at the door and then do open bar inside, or do I set up a bar? I don't intend on turning a profit or anything, (heaven forfend) I just want to break even. There's a first time for everything, after all. You know what's an awesome word? Honky-tonk. Say it. Isn't that great? Excelsior. 7:03 p.m. - 2003-11-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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