hotshotrobot set

someone told me i have a 'rockstar smirk'
then an old man yelled at me.

i'm going to be a rockstar.
my first song is going to be about edmund kemper. it's called 'kemper doesn't want to fuck my head'

what does that say?

i think the 'creep' tattoo is a magnet

any girls going to smithsbooks in the scotia square mall. avoid a man named eric (tall, with graying hair and glasses). if he approaches you, simply say:

'hey! aren't you that [married] weirdo who got my friend amy's number off of a form she filled out in your store? and didn't you call her and ask her on a date? that's pretty gross.'

amy v, the celebrity

photographers and tabloid magazine journalists wait for the famous amy v. as her car pulls up, they are ready with their cameras and questions

amy's car pulls up to curb and stops. the door swings open and amy is hit with the light of hundreds of camera flashes. the first journalist runs up to her to ask his important questions

'amy! amy! right here! where is your favorite place to watch shows in the city!?'

'oh that's an easy question! definetly the grawood! it's SUCH a great venue!'

amy pulls a pair of chanel glasses out of her balancegia handbag, adorns them, and poses for a few pictures before heading into the grawood, her favorite bar in the city of halifax

house of total bullshit

(start of scene)

gordan-hey jamie, what happened to that sheet that we put on the couch?

jamie-well, i've been sleeping on a bare mattress for about a month, so i thought i'd put it back on my bed. and by 'we put it on the couch' you mean you put it on the couch, right?

gordan-well, it was just sitting on the couch. if it's yours you should put it in your room. this is the common room, everything in it is the whole household's possession.

jamie-it wasn't sitting on the couch, it was hanging to dry, because nothing dries properly in my room. and when you say everything in the kitchen is the household's possession, that's bullshit.

(marley and ryan enter the kitchen)
ryan-oh man, what's jamie freaking out about now?

jamie-nothing! i just think you guys shouldn't be pissed when i want my bedsheet back to put on my bed.

marley-well, it shouldn't have been in the kitchen in the kitchen in the first place.

ryan-yeah jamie, god forbid you give something up to better the look of the kitchen.

jamie-i would if it wasn't the only fucking bedsheet i have!

marley-oh that is such a lie. you have more than one bedsheet!

jamie-no! i really don't

marley-jamie, don't be so stupid

(jamie starts to get really upset)

jamie-i'm not lying! it's all i have!

gordan-whatever jamie

ryan-yeah jamie, geez

(an assholish laugh is shared between ryan and gordan. in the background, marley surveys a can of food with a dent in it.)

marley-hey guys, if a can has a concave dent in it, is it alright to eat? because i know cans with convex dents can contain bacteria.

(jamie speaks up, trying to avoid the previous subject)

jamie-i've eaten food from cans with concave dents. it's been fine. i'm pretty sure it's alright to eat anyway.

marley-well yeah, i'm not surprised you ate it. you'd eat anything. hey, gordan. what do you think?

gordan-well, i'd have to say whatever the opposite of what jamie said is the truth. jamie's pretty stupid. and a cokehead. well, that's what i told my mom anyway. hahaha my mom hates you jamie!

(jamie starts to cry)

ryan-jamie, stop being so fucking pathetic

gordan-yeah jamie! jeez, you know we're just kidding.

marley-most of the time we're kidding. sometimes you are pretty stupid.

ryan/gordan/marley-POUND THAT!!

(the boys thrust their fists together, as if they've accomplished something great. jamie goes downstairs, angry, but a lot more sad.)

annnnnndddd...... SCENE!!!!

that's another play i think i'm going to write. it's about a girl named jamie who's 3 male room mates alienate her to the point of depression. her male room mates (gordan, the 'hip' one, ryan, the 'rock star' and marley, the 'genius') seem to get kicks out of making her feel terrible. i don't know how it will end.

yes. this is KIND OF a hyperbole of what happens in my household. not all of it is exagerrated however. some of the things in this fantastic play have actually taken place. sure, the male room mates arn't AS terrible in real life. but they come pretty damn close.

i may not know how jamie will get out of the terrible place she is living in, but i do know how MY hellish arrangement at 1332 dresden row is going to end. as soon as the lease is up (come on july) i will most likely live by myself (well, edie sedgwick will come with me) wherever i can afford to. and i will most likely never associate with any of my awful room mates ever again. i think that will be quite nice.

mohhhhawwwwk

today has been an interesting day

it started with my hair turning gray.
well, that was my fault

then jen and i had a huge dinner at the great wall.

then i got a mohawk.

my mom is going to hate my guts

zoodles are pretty awesome

this morning, was not a good morning.

but this afternoon was ok. lil played 4 of the 8 mixes of a song we all did a few weeks ago. we had to critique them without knowing who's was who's. all of them definetly needed some improvments, but everyone agreed the fourth mix was the best.
turns out mine was the fourth mix. it was kind of funny that some people seemed surprised. lil gave me a little wink. it was funny, and definetly a confidence booster.

i want their lovelives to begin

i've started writing what i think could be words to songs.
it's mostly stuff i've written about sexual frustration, being an asshole, and the role that star magazine plays in my life.
some people say i'm not really an asshole.
but if you could see the thoughts that my brain creates, you would think i'm the biggest asshole in the world.
well, maybe 'asshole' isn't a great term. 'selfish bitch' fits the bill much better. i'm really a huge friggin' jerk. it's just none of you suckers get to see it.

i'd be horrible in band though. no one would ever come see me play. i'm like bob/joe version 2.0 in the play i want to write. i've got zero charisma. all i've got going for me is a big set of eyes. well, i've got big sets of other things. i guess people pay more attention to those than anything else.

the comfortable with mediocrity i get, the more disgusted i become. which is weird. i don't really know how it works, but the more uninteresting i get, the more i imagine being outstanding. it's kind of like a messed up supply/demand type thing.

i learned a lot about supply/demand in entrepreneurship class, which makes me wish i was back in the days of being the 'one step above highschool dropout' kid. those were good times. i was pretty cool. i wasn't very funny though, just 'talented'

there are a few people in the world who i wouldn't really care about if they died really terrible deaths. like the guy my dad shot, who was responsible for me losing every inch of innocence.
and the guy that did whatever he did to my mom. (i haven't though about this in awhile, but alcohol brings it all out)
i think i'd like that guy to die the most painful, horrible death in the world. i think that would be GREAT!

see, i told you, i'm a huge asshole. who else, besides an asshole, would wish such horrible things upon someone else? (even if they did ruin other peoples' lives with their actions.)

someone do me a favor, and the next time they see me, give me a swift kick in the temple. put me in a coma for a few days. that would probably help me write about more interesting stuff, other than star magazine.
although star magazine is a huge void-filler for me.

could things get anymore ridiculously stupid? let me know. maybe you'll replace star magazine. i think everyone who reads this is of great importance to me. rip the star magazine out of my hands and make me read about murders instead. or something else. i really don't care.