"# negative thoughts about self: hundreds"

[izeveryboyin]

Bridget Jones Inspired Diary Ramblings:
An Experiment in Mid-Thirty British Humor


**I wrote these in a very semi-serious manner, and for those of you who are familiar with Bridget Jones, (most especially if you've read the novels as well like I have) then you might be going, "look at this girl. Is ridiculous that is copying Helen Fielding in such blatant, plagiaristic manner. Will call Scotland Yard, or at least will ring copyright offi-oh hell now I've done it." Don't worry folks; I was doing this on purpose. Sort of as a tribute to Bridget, and to cheer myself up after I had been feeling so depressed about things lately. Most of my journal entries are really morbid, so I figured if I spiced them up with a bit of Bridget Jones comedy, then they could be satirical, and interesting. I wrote them over the course of about 4 days, and it's about 9 pages long when I typed it up on Word, so if you bore easily, don't read it all. Though to read only half and miss the second part or vice versa would be sad because then you'd miss all manner of hilarious inside jokes, etc. (All of which you could probably use against me in a court of law.) At any rate, the bloody thing's long enough so I'll shut up. Enjoy!



27th April 2005 Sex: *scoffs*
Time: 8something PM Weight: *laughs uncontrollably*
Place: Do states of consciousness count? Alcohol Today: Christ, I Wish


Oh hell. I can just tell I've eaten myself into another 3 pounds b/c I can feel the weight bulging against my stomach to burst out over my jeans tomorrow morning. Stomach now looks glossy and overfed. Feel like stuffed rabbit or similar inanimate child's plaything, stuffing calories and saturated fats down my throat like a fiend. Am dreading going to school tomorrow as do not quite feel like parading self in front of judgmental educational figures who'll want to know why I didn't bother attending their classes on Tuesday. At which point I'd undoubtedly have to tell them that I looked at the clock and realized it was time to go, but disregarded. Then I'll affirm, "I'm not a follower, I'm a leader!" Harrumph! Shit, shit. Have just remembered did not call Marshall's re: my possible job and will have to do so at lunch, begging and pleading like a lecherous lover to be let onboard their friendly staff. If had job could pay for a tummy-tuck, or ridiculously over-priced croutons parading around as Caesar salads. Would become spindly aloof fox in Angelina Jolie-manner or similar. As soon as I overcome my addiction to chocolate. Wish could go sit in on AA meeting thereby proving to myself that there are people more pitiful than me; then I'll subsequently be able to take down the noose I'd made for myself to hang from. This idea will probably fail terrifically just because of my ulterior motives, and then my bad sense of direction'll lead me instead to a Sexaholics Anonymous meeting where they're all sex Gods/Goddesses, planning an orgy once group therapy is over. Will continue drowning self in fattening foods until can find something else equally as fulfilling. (Note to self, knitting and/or any such other work do not expunge excessive need to eat. Fucking forget it, kid) At which point will have to write thank-you notes to Hershey and its subsidiaries for all the love and support (and emotional weight gain) it's given me. Wish could be like Farrah Fawcett circa-1975, shaking bouncing curls and flashing a vivacious smile forever immortalized in an over-sized still of me that young boys jack-off to. Success! Have found cherry tootsie roll in-between couch cushions and can now remove paper and enjoy while blubbering to myself. "Oh why so mediocre and unattractive? Why so miserly and slightly overweight? Why so poor and jobless? Why so frightfully prosecuted for boozing it up when I want? Americans are just about the only pricks who've shoved the 21+ drinking laws down the throats of the youth, prohibiting them (in law anyway) from enjoying a little sin juice, and then, when one can finally do such things legally, look down their noses upon them, and immediately want to send them to some group where they have to hug evil, love-scorned ex-housewives and 47-year-olds name Tom. As I think on that, am forced to remember my favorite comedic line from the movie French Kiss: "My ass is twitching. You people my ass twitch."

Never the end of madness
9:39 pm. Have ironically enough just come to the April chapter of Bridget Jones' Diary and am overwhelmed with the temptation of eating fat, expertly wrapped Tootsie Roll. Must give self mantra to repeat that does not include aforementioned chocolate's name as will retrigger temptation. Think will say, "I will purge myself of all over-indulgent sinful pleasures". No. Too religious and extreme. Better say, "I will not continue eating self into fat cow form." Excellent.

9:48 pm. Have eaten last Tootsie Roll. Will go out tomorrow and purchase cow bell with remaining 5 dollars then brand myself with the Tootsie Roll logo. Stupid lout bastard couch potato.

10:08 pm. Cannot stop thinking about Tootsie Pop sucker and at the same time remain repulsed at sight of candy wrappers littering couch cushion beside me. Am terrible, broken person who, even though am surrounded by dieters and celebrity moms "in the best shape of their lives", feel the urge to eat entire contents of refrigerator. Can often be found saying things like, "I'll enjoy my saturated fats, calories, carbohydrates and high metabolism" etc. Knowing full well that that metabolism thing is slowly but surely crapping out, and secretly sneaking glances at the nutrition facts on my bag of gummy bears while groaning in shame. Am miserable, hopeless sloth. What to do?

11:55 pm. Am teetering on the brink of insanity with a feeling of impending doom. Feel miserably sleepy but cannot fall asleep (though have not really tried but feel certain that any attempts at sleep will fail). Am dreading going to school tomorrow and instead wish could jump off cliff while eating a bucket of fried chicken. Have drowned self in pitiful self-loathing again. (Why so poor? Why so unattractive? Why stomach so bulbous? Oh fuck, is that another pimple? Etc.) Am emotional fuckwit who needs to get laid while simultaneously consuming the entire contents of a 40oz bottle of Jack Daniels or similar. *Insert blatantly derogatory statement about self here*




28th April 2005 Sex: absolutely none (not even a phone call)
Time: Once again 8something PM Weight: heinously obese and saturated
with fattening jerk chicken wings
Place: Do states of consciousness count? Alcohol Today: no

# of naps taken 3
# of trips to fridge *mumbles*


Have just called Marshall's back only to be informed that the stupid hiring manager would not be in till fucking Monday after being told only 4 hours ago that the *guy I needed to speak to was interviewing and therefore unavailable. *I have just been told that the hiring manager is "Nicole", therefore obviously not a guy. Am outraged at fact that said hiring manager (possibly hermaphrodite or transgender) is not available when anxious loons like myself are in desperate need of means and money with which to fund their bad habits. Mother has just been frantic at bald spots in younger brother's hair until I finally discovered he'd gotten his hands on a razor in a desperate attempt to give himself a touch-up. Being only 3 years old, he failed parlously, and will now have to waste 30 minutes of everyone's time evening out his ruined uhm... dome. Damn. I was hoping to come up with something more clever than that. Today I consumed 5 more Tootsie Rolls, thereby ensuring my future as a stupid fat cow and have set up a meeting with Old McDonald to join his farm. Must practice my "Moo, moo" and try to find a small chorus of yelling children to scream "E-I-E-I-OOOOOOO!" every time I say it. Hair in hopeless shambles so had to revert back to self-pity mantras (Why so unattractive? Why so poor"). Do people get in trouble for counting degenerative pleadings as mantras? Wonder how much bad karma it brings if so. If self experiences any more bad karma, self will become prostituting trollop nicknamed "Candy" by self's Russian pimp who throws bottles at me while yelling "Get my cigarettes, woman!" in two different languages. Will go practice sticking my head in the toilet for when I become a weasel stealing dope money from my equally shady counterparts.

10:08 pm. Have just finished off two wafer sandwich cookies and am feeling depressed. Wish could call wonderful self proclaimed "punk-queer" friend Ritchie but he's not off for another 30 minutes or so. Will ring him then and whine about current state of life being shit, etc. hope he can come up with some sort of bright optimistic words to counter my solemn mood. On bright side have got couple pairs of jeans from friend of mother so can stop worrying what self will wear tomorrow, though clothes smell faintly of motor oil, as if have been sitting in garage. Never mind. Will spray with perfume and all will be lovely. Have just finished Bridget Jones novel for the second time. Now feel hollow and goalless. I'm such a fucking drama queen.

10:24 pm. Wish cable was on and could watch something funny on TV.

11:03 pm. Hate stupid Ritchie. Not at all helpful and abandoned me because he wants to go home and sleep after being a productive citizen in the world. Even homosexual males blow me off. ("Why so unattractive?" "Why so poor?") Will wallow in misery and watch chick flick. Hope mom doesn't notice I busted into the movie box.




29th April 2005 Sex: Oh God yes please
Time: 12:15 AM Weight: feel ridiculously bloated
Place: Misery and Sexual Frustration Alcohol Today: Too soon to tell

# of times fantasized about Hugh Grant: 10 in 10 seconds
# negative thoughts about self: hundreds


Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck. Am sent into spiraling sex craze and now desperately wish could shove Hugh Grant between my legs. Hate being woman. Wish had penis and 20 dollars so could buy my sexual favors, or at very least have fun pissing on things at a vertical angle. Am hellishly tired of not being able to purge body of this build-up of sexual charge, but cannot bloody find anyone with whom to share my boy-cut shorts. Life invariably shit. Maybe should practice Feng Shui and put a dildo or a box of lubricated condoms or perhaps even just a giant bodhi tree in my love/relationships corner. Wish was dead, or drowning in sexual bliss as deprivation getting better of psyche. Am boorishly tired of middle-aged women getting laid more than me. I am supposed to be a stunning youth and Grade-A sex goddess with queues of men flailing their arms behind me in a pre-coital frenzy! Wish could be attractive in manner of Charlize Theron, leggy and strikingly photogenic, co-starring in smash hits with movie star foxes like Johnny Depp and Keanu Reeves. Fear will never fuck again and that sexual life is over before have turned 30. (It's because of my hair, isn't it? I bet it's because of my hair) Am going MAD with lust and cannot contain self. Will try and fuck next thing that moves.


8:07 pm.Train. Excellent! Have cleverly figured out secret to great life is to own one or more truly great hats so that if by chance you happen to wake up at 7:28 instead of 6:30, you can simply stuff your half-combed locks inside. Equally important is to have a great spring jacket to sport, and always, always have an umbrella in case it rains in productive, Mary Poppins-like way. Will be on time and will not look like shit. Hurrah!

7:02 pm. Fuck. Have just come in through back door and now mother will have undoubtedly seen the dirty dishes in the sink and demand I perform frightening feats of manual labor. Have got stupid pain in neck, am starving (as have only had cheeseburger and cup of coffee) and wish could be back on internet, or perhaps immersed in B[ridget] J[ones'] D[iary] 2, which I pilfered from the bookstore earlier today. Wish was not poor and did not have to pilfer anything, but could instead flash ridiculous amounts of money in front of posh, downtown stores and make everyone think I'm fabulous. Fuck. Do not fucking want to help fucking mom in the kitchen. Want to lie on ass and enjoy being slothful while stuffing things into my mouth. (Why always picked on? It's because of my hair, isn't it? I bet it's because of my hair)

10:08 pm.Computer. Am pissed. Brother acting like fucking sh-no, no musn-AARGH! Fuckin parent. Was interrupted and pointlessly stirred, then could not fucking find pen was using to write so had to get another one, and aforementioned pen apparently sucked back into the time/space continuum. On bright side, did finally catch up with Anna who'd been mysteriously missing for a week. Was in frenzy of depression when no one answered million and 8 calls. ("Why friend not answering? Friend obviously must hate me or think am parlously stupid. It's because of my hair." Etc.) Said had fight with nearly everyone and in turn having shit week so shut herself out from world. Asshole boyfriend of hers is proving himself to be lecherous and her friend Aaron decided will be stupid jerk going, "Oooh look at me, I'm a vegan Jew. I don't smoke or drink or take hallucinogenic drugs. I don't bloody piss before 8-o-clock at night." Felt triumphantly like close friend again and have scheduled urban family tête-à-tête w/she, Ritchie and I for Sunday. Maybe token white friend Ducky if she decides she wants to breakaway from constantly schtupping posh (scenester) new boyfriend whom none of us have met. Will be marvelous Glam party where will stay out all night drinking and being fabulous together. Love friends. Hurrah!

12:08 am. Wish was not so late. Would ring someone. Wish was out enjoying fuckin youth & rocking metaphysical Casabas everywhere like bloody well should be doing. Oh well. At least can go and read a bit.

12:18 am. Sort of boring. Maybe could just ring Ritchie for a moment.

12:21 am. Probably shouldn't bother him. After all, did leave him message about urban family thing. Hmm. Could call Cristian and see if she wants to come. Nah. I'll do it tomorrow. I should just go read like I said.

12:24 am. I could call Daniel. After all we did agree I'd just ring one day and see if I got and answer since he's always so busy. Nah. 'S Friday night. "Daft cunt wouldnae be hoome, likesay".

12:30 am. Should have fuckin went with Alejandro even though did not have money. Fuck all if it wouldn't have been bettern rotting my tits off here.

12:34 am. Success! Have found beloved pen under chair next to computer. Will celebrate by having a cigarette out the window.

12:42 am. Wish was not socially inept and could say alphabet in Taiwanese. Oh well. Should definitely cap it off now. Talk too fuckin much.

12:44 am. Fuck! Have wasted entire contents fucking bottle of favorite perfume in bag.





30th April 2005 Sex: if "vixen dream" comes true
Time: 1:22 PM Weight: (see above)
Place: Utter Disgust...Land Alcohol Today: I hope so


Was woken up from fabulous dream where was sexy vixen being chased by hot men yelling "schtup me! Date me!" Was annoying fucking mother who wanted me to throw on clothes to go see posh new apartment she'd acquired. Threw jeans on and was just going to brush hair so could all fit into cap when fucking brush fell into fucking toilet. Swore loudly at top of lungs and then remembered was with younger brother, and cursed again. Had to disgustingly fish brush out of toilet and run hot water over it while simultaneously doing a blessing of the pope over its bristles. Hands now feel as if contaminated and must now run off and wash them again before can feel clean. Ugh.

1:28 pm. Fuck! Hate having siblings. Wish could move several miles away and lock myself inside a tower with no phone line. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but wish sodding family would leave me alone.

3:17 pm. Christ! One cannot be barraged by mother's insanity over new apartment, nor can one stand to bloody well be annoyed by younger brother who continues to act like spawn of Satan, coloring the windows of my mother's car and throwing rocks at gates. Mother was infuriated at my lack of interest, showing me stupid empty closets and opening doors wherein lied absolutely fucking nothing. Truly wish had job. Then could buy new identity on Russian black market. Stupid Bridget Jones with her posh barrister boyfriend and her TV journalism job. A hundred and 31 pounds indeed. Bridget Jones no longer my hero. Could get away with notion of being heinously overweight in America during 1st novel when did not know what it meant to be 8 stones, 11 pounds and now feel even more like fat cow as weigh 11 freakin pounds more than her and haven't got a boyfriend to schtup away the excess with. Hate Bridget Jones. Hope the fictional Mark Darcy leaves her in the possible third novel.

3:33 pm. Why is it that when all self wants to do is be quiet and read comedic fiction, self's stubborn mother decides to rouse her and make her shove pointless things in boxes. Is nice, cozy Saturday, and only want to fucking lie in bed for a moment, but have psychopath for a mother whose neurotic obsession with moving is counteracting my slothfulness. Hate having parents (unless of course they're lavishing me with gifts, or giving me small sums of money).

8:39 pm. Yes! Yes! Was feeling miserable about lack of substance in day, when realized could watch fulfilling dramas on television while eating tortilla chips and gasping in shock. Love Direct TV. Will just ring Anna first to see if urban family gathering still on for tomorrow, and must also contact Ducky and Ritchie. Hmm. Damn Ritchie has not returned phone call. Understand that had to work today but honestly. What about the several hours beforehand where was presumably free and could have rung me? Maybe he's rung Anna instead. No, she'd have called me. Oh Christ. Have realized arm was jiggling as wrote. (Am definitely fat cow.) Hmm. If friends and I were Bridget Jones characters, who would they be? I suppose Cristian would have to be Shazzer (is addressed by both first and last name, though full name actually Cristian Duckworth, not Cristian Ducky, but close enough, is the most emotionally detached, etc.) though wish self was Shazzer, cool, poised, feminist. Or at the very least fucking Bridget, but grudgingly concede Anna most likely Bridget. Oh Christ. Have realized am Jude, whiney, and neurotically obsessive. Ritchie obviously Tom, though admittedly, Tom probably would not be dating creepy Italian who was exactly same height and nearly twice his age. Humph, wish I was dating creepy Italian, but alas, am fat cow with scary, jiggling arms who smokes, and has an unnatural attachment to TV shows about the lives of glamorous (though fictional) homosexuals. Have suddenly realized maybe do not want to have Urban Family gathering, but would in fact rather be soliciting self to countless strangers who'll turn out to be into S&M and'll want to make a snuff film starring me and a big burly man with a leather mask over his head whose name is "Pit Bull". Suppose will go ahead and ring Anna about gathering as do not want to be sleazy, violent snuff film star or worse-dead after my film debut because I couldn't think of the safety word.

9:01 pm. Kitchen. (Stupid fat cow) Have realized reason why have not got boyfriend is because am not Anna (who does not obsess over her weight, does not smoke, and does not spend most of her day eating things). Have decided to reschedule urban family gathering for Monday as on Sundays, everything closes at fucking 5pm, and afterwards, was all geared up to have marvelous girl talk with Anna, but she was on the other line with Aaron (apparently while still won't piss before 8pm, is irresistible). Felt immediately like hag freak, At least have got "Queer as Folk" to look forward to at 9. Humph. Oh fuck! Have just remembered "Queer as Folk" already started and am not quite sure if spaghetti is done.




1st May 2005 Sex: Oh, what is point?
Time: 2:24 AM Weight: (see above)
Place: Chicago, Il Alcohol Today: probably not


So, Sunday. Wish could be preparing for urban family thingy instead of stuffing things in boxes while obsessive mother hands out orders authoritatively. Suppose postponement all for best, though. Will get everything all packed and shipped off to new residence and can have entire day free (except for, of course, hours when at school). Hate idea of wasting perfectly good Sunday indoors but honestly, what else have self really done on the last million Sundays? Have turned to new page in Johnny Depp calendar mom bought me from California. Hurrah! Is new month. Will start fresh and spend whole of May being fabulous and socialistic. Will cut hair, will go to rallies, and date guys with weird names like Sven. (Will date period.) Will have fabulous all day parties with urban family on weekends. WILL GET FREAKIN NEW JOB IF KILLS ME! Will acquire new socialist friends to hang out with and be marvelous together, May! The epitome of spring. Warm weather, sunny skies, gorgeous men in sexy, boot-cut jeans and my inevitable emergence as lovely, vivacious butterfly (demonstrably not like stupid fat cow was before in April). Must remember to apply for fall semester at Harold Washington (much more affordable and closer than current college) and will petition for all needed tests to be taken on earliest possible date. Hmm, wish had some chips. No, no. Mustn't relapse into hideous pattern of over-eating. Think will take half day at school on Monday so can fill out apps and be all starry-eyed in anticipation before urban family thing. Would be marvelous if had new job. Will give self positive mantra to repeat. Hmm. Think will say, "Enlightenment, Enrichment, Enjoyment". Embodies all goals in general yet conclusive and clever manner. Am wonderful genius and soon will be goddess as well. Excellent.

5:22 pm. Oh God. Have been guilt-tripped into attending my 7-year-old cousin's birthday party at (of all the miserable places) Chuck E. Cheese's. Will now have to waste perfectly good Sunday bombarded by screaming children and ridiculously decorated plates of disgusting pizza. Why is it that adults still feel it necessary to drag unwilling family members to dusty places like this when can see am clearly not under the age of 11 and therefore do not fucking want to watch a weird man in a giant mouse suit dance the Macarena. Is ghastly idea and wish could hang myself or hide inside one of the many boxes my mother is using to move. Am bloody well doomed. DOOMED!

6:05 pm. Car. Do not want to go to scary children's party! Do not! Do Not! Wish could have some chip-no, no. Must remember mantra. "Enlightenment, Enrichment, Enjoyment". Or is it "Enjoyment, Enlightenment, Enrichment"? Fuck.

11:23 pm. Stupid kiddie party bored me senseless. Had to go to Wal-Mart for birthday present, while mom threw around boxes of detergent to better sense the smell. "Oooh, new Gain scent." She's such a middle-aged parent. Went to get journal, but made mistake of letting mom pick it out, and now have got huge bulky one in which to write, but is all floral so self will look like stupid girly-girl when writing in it. (Damn economizing mother). Have eaten everything could get greedy hands on, but cannot really be blamed as could not really remember mantra properly. Okay… can blame self. But I mean honestly, who's going to resist an all you can eat salad bar and a huge piece of chocolate cake… and four packs of Sour Patch Kids… and two Airheads… and some mashed potatoes. Just a little bit of light eating… uhm…. Several times. Of hell, who am I kidding? Month of May off to miserable shit of a start. Self seems farther from state of Goddess-hood than self is from Argentina. Fuck.

[mousey1]

The ebony Bridget Jones.

Izy, your timing sucks! Had you come out with this a few years back you would be now counting your millions 'stead of Helen what's her name. I'd be referring to you as Kayla what's her name....green with envy I might add.

Funny stuff. But it's been done before.....see above!!!!!!

Hee Hee. You've got some good humour going on here. Kinda sad your life is so completely sucky in a hilarious sort of way. Rather reminds me of mine.

"Homosexual males blow you off!" Cool!!!! Kinky!!!! Oh perhaps I'm reading more into this than was intended.

As for me I came to the following conclusion for myself a long time ago and am glad to see that others have this problem as well....

"It's because of my hair, isn't it? I bet it's because of my hair."
Damned straight girl! er....Damned curly girl!
I feel your pain.

Izy, you're a gem!!!!! Thanks for the read and the laugh!

[izeveryboyin]

Thank goddness! I was beginning to think no one wanted to be bothered with this!! I'm glad you liked it... and that it's because of your hair, as well. Yay crappy hair!!


--k

p.s it's curly... annoyingly curly.

[mnaz]

great stuff, ize...

dug it....

oh, the ugly mindtrap spiral of unemployment and introspection.....
It's always so much better when you're assimilated into the machine, the routine....

[izeveryboyin]

thanks! glad you liked it!!!! I was hoping that I wasn't a complete failure at this stuff, and that I was, if not at all humorous, mildly entertaining.


--k

[hester_prynne]

Hah! Well I loved it Iz! Finally had a chance to sit down and read every word...it's really good, a pleasure to read, painfully real, hilariously funny, made me chortle and guffaw.

(I like tootsie pops too. Specially the purple ones. You know, they say that if the Indian shooting the arrow is pictured on the wrapper, it's a sign of good luck!)

Keep up the good prose girl...I want to read more...

H

[Doreen Peri]

ok... this is a prime example of your wit, cleverness, charming style, and unique voice.

I love this piece....

keep on doing this, kayla.... don't stop...

i will keep this one in mind when writing the review...

[izeveryboyin]

yay D!! Yay hest! Yay me!!! Notice only the women commented on this... hmmm. Is it that you all are so in touch with being morbidly addicted to chocolated and rejected even by homosexual males? Or is it that only women are smart enough to get my humor? hahahahaha.... ahahahahaha... hahaha.


--k


p.s thanks for reading guys! i mean it! I know it was REALLY long, so I'm glad you took the time.

[AQuestion]

Ah, yes, the curly hair business...

I can hear that cry loud and clear.

yeah, I think you'd be countin' your millions too...

[jimboloco]

omygawddd
a floral journal
florid
florita
loretta
you never know where it will go
betta an betta

[izeveryboyin]

yay! a male's comment! I've suceeded after all!!! That's for posting as well, AQ!

--k

p.s so... agreed then... curly hair sucks.

[jimboloco]

Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck Oh Fuck. Am sent into spiraling sex craze and now desperately wish could shove Hugh Grant between my legs. Hate being woman. Wish had penis and 20 dollars so could buy my sexual favors, or at very least have fun pissing on things at a vertical angle. Am hellishly tired of not being able to purge body of this build-up of sexual charge, but cannot bloody find anyone with whom to share my boy-cut shorts. Life invariably shit. Maybe should practice Feng Shui and put a dildo or a box of lubricated condoms or perhaps even just a giant bodhi tree in my love/relationships corner. Wish was dead, or drowning in sexual bliss as deprivation getting better of psyche. Am boorishly tired of middle-aged women getting laid more than me. I am supposed to be a stunning youth and Grade-A sex goddess with queues of men flailing their arms behind me in a pre-coital frenzy! Wish could be attractive in manner of Charlize Theron, leggy and strikingly photogenic, co-starring in smash hits with movie star foxes like Johnny Depp and Keanu Reeves. Fear will never fuck again and that sexual life is over before have turned 30. (It's because of my hair, isn't it? I bet it's because of my hair) Am going MAD with lust and cannot contain self. Will try and fuck next thing that moves.

ya can't fool me.
i know you, class act and all.
prime sample of beauty as truth.
more noble words nere writ.
your kundalini crazy soul.

ps i vote you most likely to be famous!

[izeveryboyin]

hehe/ Don't know about fabulous... but if poking fun at myself is going to get me famous, then fuck alll if I won't grow to be the next Oprah! Thanks jimbo. *kisses cheek* You still rock my metaphysical world.

--k

[jimboloco]

OH well I didn't mean like Her!
like i mean well known amongst the meek!

[Trevor]

LMAO....9:48 pm. Have eaten last Tootsie Roll. Will go out tomorrow and purchase cow bell with remaining 5 dollars then brand myself with the Tootsie Roll logo.


Hey JK, really funny stuff! I'd go into more detail about the other great stuff written in this post but damn it, just too nice outside to stay behind the computer all day I think its a good piece not only because it is humorous and witty at times, but also because most people can relate to a lot of what you said. I make a resolution to quit smoking everytime I look at the overfilled ashtray, I resolve myself to quit drinking everytime I see the counter filled with empties, and I promise to start eating more healthy everytime I take off my clothes. Yet here I am, still a drunk, smoking and a chubby man...

Anyways, great post! Thanks for sharing it.