You bitches have been running wild for too long. It's about time I came back and laid down the law.
......
Just kidding. It'll take a few more months of regular posting before I reach that level of egotism. But reach it I shall, because that is what regular blogging does to a person and I'm ready to navel-gaze and self-obsess via cyber space for an anonymous audience once more.
However, I AM MOVING. Yep. Brand new user name, but one I'm not disclosing publicly because, seriously, I've kept pretty cool about certain stalkers over the years but unless you're whackin' it to my page looking like this:
You probably need to take a hike. If, however, you do meet that requirement, you have but one final hurdle: Trace my location and show up at my house dressed as any of the following:
a) college professor b) Capone-era gangster c) Catholic priest [photo visual!] d) vampire e) shirtless cowboy f) greasy mechanic
And we'll talk. And by talk I mean [censored because I am belatedly trying to clean up my image.]
Anyway, I'm already in the process of alerting and friending people off of my list, but if you want a link, msg me and I'll gladly share it should you pass my litmus test of sanity. And if I, the ultimate of creepers, find you too creepy to divulge my new identity to, then ... shit, son. I don't really know what to tell you. Um, good luck with the human taxidermy? Make sure to wipe your prints.
... jk! I actually have certain criteria in mind (that only affect a small population of people) that I can't really announce because then you'll know what it is so I have to be sneaky about it. So don't be offended. Much.
So, moving on, I figured one last post for old times' sake. Ahh, Melliemee. Dear old page. In going back to clear out most of my old entries, I skimmed a lot of the content, and things I observed:
1. As a teenager, I was rather retarded. And vapid. And insipid. Who knew? At least I had a tight ass.
2. There were actually ENTIRE entries devoted to nothing more than posting up recent pictures. Jesus. No wonder blogs/photo/networking communities attract more sex offenders than ... well, anything else. It's a virtual mailing catalog and you never even have to leave your sex dungeon basement.
3. Oh, wait. I still have entries like that now. Never mind.
4. My baffling fondness for improperly placed ellipses probably explains why my punctuation skills are shot to hell now. Damn it, Xanga.
5. I filled out a lot of surveys and took "What style of kisser are you?" and "What kind of Asian chick are you?" quizzes and used an exorbitant amount of smilies and seemed wholly preoccupied with becoming some sort of teen import model. Again, Jesus. How I'm not "engaged" to some tatted-up, wife-beater wearing AZN ex-drug dealer and hauling our gold and jade Buddha-wearing 2 yr. old around Little Saigon now is beyond me.
6. However, I was generally a happier person, I think. I had friends that I actually saw and hung out with regularly -- totally foreign concept, I know. And I just seemed more upbeat and positive. Then again, it might just be all of the excessive "LOLzzzz!" and crazed smilies. Those can really trick a person, y'know. Maybe they masked my super emo teen pain. Yes. That must be it. Because clearly I am so well-adjusted now.
Ahh, okay. Beautiful walk down memory lane. All right everyone, it's been real. See ya!
This is the most bitching song I've heard in a long time and I wanted to pop in and share it with you fine folk. Every time I hear a new song I really like, I tend to play it on loop, non-stop, for days until I never want to hear the damn thing again. I'm currently in overdose mode right now and figured I'd spread the love:
Normally, I try to avoid watching music videos as much as humanly possible, (they distort my perception of the song), but someone put together a fan video for this using clips from Schindler's List. It's pretty haunting, if you're interested (but listen to the first video first!) :
And okay, since we're sharing, I'm absolutely dying to see this movie and I have no idea when (or if) it'll get released in the DC metro area. Aaaargh! Perfect Halloween flick (creepy, not outright scary). Which reminds me, I gotta get working on my costume. This is my favorite holiday, after all. I know, you're completely shocked, .
P.S. I'm feeling open. Got any music/movie recommendations? Shoot 'em my way, cowboy.
Steal. Steal plentifully and indiscriminately. Then gorge myself on Dippin' Dots. Then wonder if my predicament was caused by a zombie invasion coming to town, because seriously, why else would you be trapped in a mall?
Sometimes I hear stories about people living out of their cars with
nothing but a guitar, a few changes of clothes, and wild, unadulterated
inspiration and hope and I think, "Fuck. I want that to be me."
Is that sick?
P.S. You know that feeling you get when you're awake at like, 4 in the
morning and you swear that you're the last person on Earth? I love that.
You
think they're your friend. Something to carry your belongings, put your penises in, sharpen your pencils (not to be confused with the previous), or... turn ordinary sheets into
a ghettolicious Halloween costumes.
But sometimes, sometimes, holes can turn on you. Like when they appear in your tires,
condoms, or perfectly good pairs of pantyhose. But it doesn't stop there -- their potential for evil can reach even further. For instance:
.
![[photo visual!]](http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o274/jensens_gurl/11256348_l.jpg){kind=link}