Scrubs, Scrubs

As always when I'm coming off from one of these self-pity jags, I lose my creativity for a while. So I've been thinking about blog topics all weekend long, without any result. Everything that pops up in my head sounds lame and/or used before, and even when I get a semi-good idea, I can't find a way to write it to make it interesting. It will pass, I'm sure, but until then...

Anyways, I spent the weekend either drinking or recovering, but fortunately, this weekend is the first time in a month that I felt good drunk. So Monday and Tuesday night, I drank again, just to make sure that the good feeling wasn't a fluke, and sure enough, I still felt good. The weather today is fairly nice, so I'm gonna try to sleep tonight without imbibing. That, and I made a promise to go out with my buddies tomorrow, and that will inevitably lead to a long night, so I wanna prepare my liver for it, y'know.

Torture Rack

I've been working so much recently, and add the recent streak of bad weather, and my body is physically hurting like crazy. What makes it even worse is that when I'm out I habitually suck my gut in and tighten my facial muscles so that I don't end up looking like a bulldog that swallowed a beach ball and as a result is always very tense when I'm working. So everything from middle of the back down is hurting, even my ass, from all those hours sitting on hardass chairs.

Adding insult to injury, for nearly a month I think I had like four days that I went to bed without consuming at least 100mL of liquor. And there's some more of that on the horizon tonight, due to tonight being a friday night and all.

*SIGH* Gotta go drinking now.

The Last Question

I like watching music videos, so I end up watching VH-1 or MTV alot, on those rare moments they show actual music videos and not some lame countdown program or even lamer shows. Anyways, as I was watching the newest batch of videos, and this question struck me. When the fuck did Sheryl Crowe go from serious, respected musician, singer, and songwriter to eyecandy, shaking her moneymaker on camera? And how come no one told me until I had to find out from watching her video?

Under The Weather

It's been raining here for a week now, no for almost a month, on and off, since there were like 4 tropical storm systems passing us by recently, and something odd's been happening to me. I've been actually feeling under the weather. I mean, I can feel myself being more cranky and mean, and sometimes I feel kinda depressed, and feel a great sadness washing over me for no apparent reason. And it scares me and depresses me even more since this kinda thing never happened to me. I mean, if someone ever said that they were feeling blue because of the weather, I would have been liable of laughing my ass off, pointing. I used to like cloudy, rainy, stormy days, dammit!

I have no idea what the fuck is happening to me now. I think it's a sign that my life is winding down and I will go away soon. And if that is the case, damn. There's stuff I still wanna do and stuff I still wanna see, but if I go, I go. Nothing much I can do about that.

Trojan Horses And All The Sheik's Men

I bought a box of condoms the other day, a box of three. I don't know why I buy it, since I never use them, but if I go out and I don't have any, I get nervous, for some odd reason. My security blanket, perhaps. Anyways, I opened the box (TrojanEnz, Very Sensitive, Lubricated) and inside the box, there were instructions, both in text and pictures. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but if you don't know how to use a condom, perhaps you should not be having sex in the first place. Leave the chick alone, so someone who KNOWS how to use them, like say, me, can go and nail the chick, you retard.

And what's up with the expiration date on condoms, anyways? It's not enough that I still have the same number of condoms I had this month than last month, and feel like eating an assault rifle. Every so often, they gotta make me feel like a pathetic piece of shit by throwing away the whole box of condoms. And nothing makes me feel like a pathetic piece of shit than the knowledge that I didn't get any tail for the entire lifespan of the box of condoms. Why don't you put a hot soldering iron on my blue scrotum while you're at it? Sheesh.

Bulimia And You

Aside from the heavy drinking, I've been watching alot of TV recently, since it seems that being in front of the pooter for too long brings back too much painful memories. Anyways, I saw the new video from Celine Dion, the soundtrack to Stuart Little 2, and oh my god, when I thought she couldn't look any worse... And notice how much CG they did on her face. She looks like the witch from Sleeping Beauty. As if she doesn't look like enough of a cartoon character. And is it just me, or when I look at her, it always makes me think of bulimia? It might be because seeing her face makes me wanna puke.

And I keep making fun of Kelly Osborne, a chick who NEEDS to be bulimic a little, and I figured out why I make fun of her so much. Her arms are too short for her body. Look at her, c'mon. She looks like one of those tumbling dolls with legs.

Me So Ugly

I know this couple, who moved away now, who had two daughters, two years apart from each other. And both of them were crazy about men, ever since they were infants. I mean, they would never be happy in another woman's arms, except for their mother, but if a guy holds them, they would be happier than a Jenny Craig member with a slab of ribs and a big old hunk of cherry pie with cheese and ice cream. That is until they met me. I was already aware of my penchant for babies bawling their eyes out with the power of my face, but the parents had assured me that they really like men, so they gonna like me too. This is a prime examples that parents are mistaken sometimes, too. End result: lots of crying, yelling and gnashing of teeth by the two girls.

And lemme tell you, it really stabs you directly in the shriveled little bean I call a heart when I get rejected even by babies. Potential nymphomaniac babies at that. No wonder chicks flee at the sight of me. I really need some plastic surgery. Really. I think in my case, it's gonna be covered by medicaid, since it's life threatening. Well, at least essential surgery.

In The End

I still don't feel any much better. At least now I can pretend that I'm having a good time, though, when I'm talking to someone else. The thought of doing my self in is still in the back of my head, but it's not really the overwhelming thought anymore. I guess I should be happy with that. I'm to scared of pain to do it, anyways. Although if someone figures out an easy painless method...hehehe.

Anyways, I decided not to blog about this anymore, just push it down and ignore it, pretend it's not there. So I decided I will only blog about positive things, like I did before. Sorry about this, I'm not this emotional usually, but some shit happened in my life that...well, no more of this. Let's get back to the status quo.

Hysterical Laughter

Hahahahahaha. Hehehehehehehe. Heeheeheeheeheehee. Hohohohohohohoh. *snicker*

I Wish

I wish I was better looking. I'm not greedy or anything; I don't really wanna look like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise or anything like that. If I only looked like John Turturro, I'll be happy as a lark. Perhaps then chicks wouldn't keep telling me all my life that they just want to be friends. Heh, to guys, "just friends" is almost as bad as castration, since one way or the other, we can't use our dicks anymore. Anyways, looking at my face in the mirror makes me puke, I can just imagine what effect it has on other people. No wonder I have such rotten luck with chicks. I'm embarassed to be seen with me, so the chick would be even MORE embarassed to be seen with me. And I fully understand. Sometimes, it just hurts though, y'know, even though I have had to deal with it my whole life.

While I'm at it, I wish I was skinner as well. Anything below Chris Farley would be nice. And I wish I had more money too. I don't ask for much, just a few hundred thousand dollars is all I need.

I guess I'm in such a negative mood today since I had this sudden vision today. I thought I was recovering from my funk, when out of the blue I had this vision of me killing myself. And for the life of me, I couldn't think of a reason not too, and that scared the shit out of me. No one's gonna miss me all that much even if I do off myself, except maybe for my brother, and the thought of that just depresses the hell out of me. And it's not strange, since I don't usually think about suicide, but it just happened all of a sudden without any warning. And the way I was feeling before, if I wasn't such a chickenshit about pain, I would have probably hung myself with my dick or something.

I'm not feeling that suicidal now, though. Just very down.

The Moose

Things are not really going too well for me right now. I don't really wanna get into details, but I am really miserable and depressed and sad, and feeling like a pathetic loser. I don't want to bring anyone else down, so I'm hanging a moose on my front door for a while. I'm sorry to say that I'm gonna definitely lie low for a while, and stay off the blog, soapbox, and IM. I will still answer emails if I can bring myself to it, if I can reply without sounding too depressing. Anyways, I will be back if I ever get any better. If I don't get better...I don't really wanna think about THAT.

Sorry For This Entry

After a horrible, horrible weekend, with the whole works going on in my mind-depression, lack of self esteem and/or self worth, pain, suffering, etc., today, I'm feeling a little better, thank God. And here I thought last week was bad, but I think I definitely was in the pits over the weekend. And it's the thought that it's my fault that I'm feeling this way is perhaps dragging me down even more. Anyways, I take it day by day, just hoping that tomorrow will be a brighter day than today. But I think it's kinda unfair for me to inflict myself on other people with the state I'm in, so I'm gonna lay low for a while, stay away from my pooter and such until I'm definitely back to my carefree, happy go-lucky state. So if anyone is worried about me, don't worry. I'm not dead. Yet.

Ugh. To top it all off, my internet is down too. I'm using my friend's "borrowed" connection again. If I wasn't so MANLY, I would have broken down and cried a long time ago. But because of my MANLY-ness, I can't even cry. Phooey.

A Massage From The Swedish Prime Minister

The management apologizes for the unfunniness of the recent entries. Jun has been suffering from a severe depression this week, coupled with sleeplessness, and the moron tried to assuage that by drinking until sunrise. We think he drank over a gallon of 80 proof, sometimes stronger, in a three day period. But he doesn't need any sympathy, it's his own damn fault that he's depressed, that dumbass. That's what he gets for not listening to us. But we managed to kick his ass and make him accept the reality of his life, and we're happy to say that he is getting better. He's still a bit depressed, but he's not actively looking for a Saturday Night Special any more. We're sure Jun will be back to his normal self in a few weeks.

We thank you for your kind understanding.

-The Voices In Jun's Head

Kelly Green

I saw Kelly Osborn's Papa Don't Preach video again, and more I see it, the more it reminds me of Nancy Sinatra's This Boots Are Made For Walking video, especially with the color composition and choreography and stuff. It's fucking amazing, really. There is one difference though. If you screw with Kelly, her dad's probably not gonna take out a contract on your ass with the Families.

He might bite your head off, though. Or at least bite the head off your pet.

Anticlimatic

After all the melodrama of the last entry, the typhoon did a swerve at the last minute and missed us, we only being the beneficiaries of the ass part of the storm. There WAS a blackout, but only for a couple of hours in the morning, and obviously, it's back on now, and the first thing that I did, of course, was turn on the computer. So I didn't end up sitting alone in the dark with a miserable look on my face; I was sitting alone in the gloom (it's still heavily overcast) with a miserable look on my face.

Alone In The Dark

There's a typhoon approaching, and it's forecasted to hit the island later today. It's not supposed to be a very big storm, but still, it's te first typhoon of the millenium, so I'm rather looking forward to it. The only hitch is, though, if the winds hit more than 70 miles per hour, the electricity will go out. So that means, no internet!!!! AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I'll be here, alone in the dark, without any contact with the outside world, with a miserable look on my face.

If only I had a chick here...heh, but if wishes were horses... Hmmm. I don't know the second part to that phrase.

Alien Island

I was amazed and highly amused when I went to the detention center for illegal aliens, because it was even more secure than the prison here. It had a big old padlock at the gate and everything and an officer had to let me in and out, unlike the jail, in which the door is open, and I let myself in and let myself out, much to my amusement. And the immigration guys knew where the key was and everything when they were letting me out, which is very unlike corrections as well. Last time they try to lock the jail up, the only guy with the key was this old, old captain, who has this proclivity of disappearing, probably to jack off to the latest issue of Big 'Uns, and the other guards have to spend like 20 minutes finding his old ass whenever they need to open the gate. So they don't really bother with the padlock on the front gate anymore, unless the old man is off, in which someone more reliable can keep the key. Reliable being a relative term here.