The Stoner Chronicles

September 30, 2002

i have to be to work at 7...i have to write two papers before then...i skipped my drawing class to work on my paper...i forgot my book at home...i have no money to call home...i bought lots of fun jewelry, but no one wants to have sex with me or my jewelry...i would be aroused by someone having sex with jewelry...i'm quitting school to pursue a life in the field of death preparation...

September 26, 2002

fucking english majors....

STOP what you're doing...

go read Lorrie Moore's "How"....don't stop until you've had a literary orgasm...

mmm....

Most people don't understand how beneficial the smoking of the ganja can be...

I started writing "the movie" last month, in fact, I think i might refer to it as "the movie" until we start filming...it's better than say "Rich Indian 54 where are you?!"...and everytime someone asks me a question, i'll go back to "the movie"

english professor: i noticed you haven't handed anything in this semester
me: well, "the movie" bitchslapped my hootenanny...i couldn't concentrate

or some such nonsense....

i mean, i've got it all hammered out right now...or at least the main premise, i'm starting to build the web...the web is very important, because...well, it is...


i think that, in the end, Dr. Seuss Bible is the only Kids in the Hall skit that might be funny if someone else was performing it...that's a compliment, by the way...

why do people have to be so fucking mental...

I haven't put together a coherent sentence in six months...why would i want to start now...

Holocaust class in ten...wish me luck...



September 12, 2002

i changed my colors!(yay)

i fucked up my template (boo)

i'll fix it soon...

I don't quite understand my responsiblilities as an English major. We were discussing deconstructive criticism, and I don't see what all the fuss is about. Sometimes, as i sit there, staring out the high ceiling windows, I ponder the point of teaching someone a particular writing style. I've always thought of myself as a writer, of course not in this particular arena, as journals are the hawaiian shirt days of literature, but I digress, that it is not worth it to waste my time in college any longer...

if you'll excuse me, i have class in ten minutes...

god is a bruised man's santa claus...

If they ever change the rules, i'd vote for Clinton in a heartbeat...


September 11, 2002

someone's playing the Charleston on their computer...how lovely

maybe that's a bit insensitive...

i suppose it would be un-patriotic of me to not post something today...

there ya go...

September 10, 2002

You know what i love about college? (raises eyebrow)

well...i'll tell you...

I love that I can complain to anyone not wearing a garbage bag about my tuition bill, as they sit there, nodding graciously, answering rhetorical questions, and adding in the appropriate responses, such as "well, you're still young", and "this is all going to seem easy once you make it in the 'real world'" and "don't eat your beer bottle cap for ANY amount of money". And as soon as I'm done talking off their mundane sweater vest souls, I align myself with the rest of the Jansport toting college sophomores, wait five minutes for the elevator...and when it doesn't come on time...i skip my first two classes, because I shouldn't be paying 20K a year to wait for anything...

If i miss my morning shit, i become agitated all day. This just occured to me over breakfast...that, and my new found respect for "Curb Your Enthusiasm". I'll admit, i'm not a fan of anything even remotely related to Jerry Seinfeld, but it's sort of ridiculous to sit there, an aspiring comedienne, and purposely try to not laugh at something, because it's mysogynistic, or racist, or any other taboo's that aren't coming to me at this point...

That show is fucking hysterical, the man is most definitely a comedic genius.

There are two SUPER DORKS sitting to the right of me, and i still need to take my morning shit...

Oh, and i would like to officially announce...that I am a pothead...yes, i realize this might not be all that much of a suprise to any of you that camp out by your PC's, anticipating my next blog like it's the fucking LOTR sequel...but this is the first time I'VE realized i have a drug problem(and yet...problem is the wrong word?)...

for example:

1. I come home
2. I pass out
3. I wake up
4. I realize my remote is missing...again
5. I realize i'm a stoner and the odds of actually remembering where i put the remote is, shall we say "slim to negative 4"
6. there's nothing interesting on CBC...how the fuck the television gets on CBC everyday remains a mystery
7. the search begins anyway...
8. I come across the scale while looking for the remote and accidentally step on it with one foot...i become elated for nearly 15 seconds, before noticing that my other foot is on the floor...suspended animation, i tell you...
9. I become famished...on my way to the kitchen to retrieve a large bowl of fruit loops, i forget why i'm standing up, and walk back into the living room to take a nap...
10. I wake up to the Royal Canadian Air Farce...repeat sequence...

I smoke up, every single night now...not because i want to, of course...most days i find myself on the porch with the rest of the stoners, and the bowl just, finds it's way into my mouth...and it's not like anyone i know would be interesting if they weren't creating sculptures out of candle wax, consistently talking with their mouths full, perfecting their old school rap moves, or having SERIOUS discussions about escape routes off the porch if 'wicked' unicorns were to take over Buffalo...(or just the west side, i mean, technically speaking, what sort of resources would a wicked unicorn want from the west side of buffalo?... unless it was a peaceful wicked unicorn invasion,but that would be highly inconceivable...ha, giggle, snork...)

there are a plethora of reasons for me to stop smoking the ganja...but i keep forgetting them...