just before we watched it, tim called and he said that it was a crappy movie and it made him extremely mad whilst watching it so this got me worried that the next 2 hours would be lackluster but they weren’t so tim can take his opinion and shove it up his anus because he is hyper-critical about everything.
we spent a good hour making fun of me at the horseshoe btw, aimee was loving it.
ok back to godsend.
i say rent it because there are four alternate endings to it and you will have a lot of fun playing asshole commentator the whole way thru and there is also one part where the bully kid dies yes! and the one who plays his mum who cries theatrically is fil’s cousin. random.
it’s not like the number one movie ever but there isn’t much to be renting these days so it is adequately scarey enough plus de niro is a jerkbag selfish doctor and you are like i hate that guy when you watch it.
i was suppose to go get interviewed for this talking about sex panel tv show thing on the life network late last week but i totally spaced out when the girl called and forgot to call back and set up an interview until just now i remembered about it and i am allowed to bring all other loudmouth opinionated persons along for it as well because the show was renewed 39 new episodes. i will call this woman tomorrow.
i’m listening to the recording we did during band practise yesterday and it makes me cringe, jump-out-of-a-window styles listening to myself sing though some parts i think wow i invented singing!
my favorite is the in-between parts of songs where there are little mistakes and me burping.
the zoom recorder was being a bitch and kept turning off and it took us forever to realise that it sounded like total ass only out of the PA but via the headphones, it was kind of professional.
the general concensus is psychotic insecurity so no one is allowed to hear the “test” yet which sucks. i was like DAD YO THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE IS GOING TO HEAR THIS! and he is like LIKE HELL THEY ARE!
he lectures me a lot about being a big rockstar/showboat who doesn’t have the right to be bragging ‘cos not like they’re that good a singer and it’s funny because i don’t ever brag about singing, i rarely talk about it, he just gets worried about my saying that a trillion people will be into it for novelty’s sake and he will die of embarassment if we are mediocre and i keep telling him you know, people in bars and pubs are dumb and don’t notice fuck ups or anything, i could be clanging on a metal garbage can and singing backwards and it would be good enough.
the only thing that it wouldn’t be good enough for would be snotty asshole blog comment hacks. this is what matthew good told me, more or less. he used the word snotty and asses to describe high-standard music critics gone web. personally, i equate them with the comic book store owner on the simpsons.
funny yet annoying and mean.
ok, take away the funny part.
i think my dad is just playing the recording to crack the whip so i will actually practise and maybe smoke less and talk less, i dunno.
the instruments sound fine to me, it’s just my voice that is bothering me.
i’m sick of hearing me and everytime we practise i start to think that they’re all getting sick of it too so i feel like i am being rude when i am singing my part.
which is silly i know but i still can’t help feeling that way.
i think i drank away all of my self-esteem.
humble is fine i suppose.
perhaps i missed the upper-management material boat?
matthew good said i should be a sea captain.
hmm.
i’ll probably just draw retarded forever until i make a picasso or something.
once it turns dark, the i want a beer bug rears its head.
could be worse. it could be weed again. that was more of a 24/7 type thing. giving up on life type thing. and not to say that drinking everyday isn’t any better, because in many ways it is much worse.
my memory is garbage.
i never thought that would happen, could happen, to me, never.
i mean, i still remember a lot of things, things other people do not. details. descriptions. random things. abstract. who cares.
though, it’s like a huge blurry block of time and space of the last three or four months or whatever feels like the same nite, day, week, over and over and over again in my mind.
drinking is a way to stay in the same place, safely.
it’s something to look forward to and something to forget and something to wish away and something to ignore completely.
for me it was a safety crutch to begin with. to drown out all the scarey thoughts i had and i worry a little bit if they will all come back to haunt me once i sober up. if mania will happen all over again once summer is here and i completely lose it and this time around have a heart attack. i dunno.
i wanted to slow down my mind so i did.
and i didn’t write any of this to hear lectures or advice so don’t bother.
some posts are buzzkills.
anyhow, let’s discuss my hang over. it wouldn’t be much of a hang over if i had been able to sleep properly and if all the stupidity what is my life past/present didn’t weigh on my conscience so much or if i had the capacity to stop the cycle.
sometimes this planet is not big enough.
this hang over is more like a fuzzy heaviness on the back of my neck and head and if i am lucky, perhaps the feeling will last.
nevermind.
this is what my future will be like if i keep up this nonsense.
i got to be a witness to the lesbo wedding and have my signature on an official lesbo document and i got to hold a lesbo ring. LESBO! total photo frenzy. i’ll put it up later for now i am just writing before i forget things. anyhow, there were these cute brazil fags signing up to be married next month and they kissed for us and it was beautiful to see because it was real and not like annoying drunk guys who turn into homos because there are 40 people watching them at a party.
me and jamie and aimee wondered if three people could marry each other. that would be a great thing to say at parties i think for when people get boring you can be like yo, you see that girl over there and you see that guy over in the kitchen, i am married to both of them, and we aren’t even dating and that guy doesn’t even live in our same area code, can you believe it!?
novelty is THE BEST.
then after the marriage we split over to magic pony and i exchanged a t-shirt and then we ate pizza – me jamie brooke aimee.
tim called me right after the wedding and we got him to meet us at the horseshoe and later his lady came too and before she got there i was telling tim that i wasn’t going to like her and tim said that i was going to like her and i fiercely disagreed and then she showed up and i liked her.
she said that she wasn’t planning on liking me either and i was fine with that.
she’s moving in with my ex boyfriend, tim said i wasn’t going to like that, not because i am jealous though, only because he is THE SCUM OF THE EARTH and i still have SCREAMING AT HIM fantasies and feel nauceous when i picture him in my mind and so on and tim told him if he pulls any sleazy shit on his girl he will go ballistic on him and other things and i was like YAAAAAAAAAH!
DO IT!
tim is the best story teller ever.
when he arrived he said a lot of stuff real fast and then went right to the bar and i said to jamie, wow, that was a lot of information and i was trying to think of interesting things to say that were better but i used up all my clever quota so all i could do after that was repeat the only parts of the napoleon dynamite dance that i could remember.
the best part was when the drunk/drugged guy from copenhagen came by to hang with us and he was all hanging off of tim and he looked like the legolas guy from lord of the rings so i was calling him legolas and asked if he had a positive outlook and stuff and then when he said that he was a feminist i told him to just shut up and fuck off i think and he was all hurt but then i fake apologized and then out of nowhere he got all racist so we all crowded around him laughing and taking advantage of his foreign-ness and general obliviousness of the motley crew he was dealing with so this carried on for ten minutes or so and then we left him and on the ride back i said that i missed legolas and wished he was in the back of jamie’s jeep, just a little bit at least.
and then me and brooke danced our mother fucking asses off and completely ruined the nite of roughly forty, 40+ year old kept/divorced women by not stopping the rock. everytime i made eye-contact with the room it was just a sea of i-hate-you scowls and squinty burn-up-and-die looks which of course made me throw myself around more and punch brooke’s ass over and over and over again in-time to the music.
then this short fucker during the goodbyes to brooke and jamie said he remembered me this other nite singing and said that i was bad and i made the airhead shocked facial reaction and knew it was because the amazon blond sent him over as evil messenger to say that because the world is against me.
the cat thinks he owns fil and two nites ago during trying to sleep time the cat fell into the paper shopping bag on my side of the bed and it made that crinkly paper bag sound and it made me laugh inside my head even though we were suppose to be grumpy because it was 6 in the morning and that dang eavesdrop thing was clanging against the wall of the building so fil couldn’t take it anymore so he got a bunch of birthday ribbons and tied them together and went outside and tied the thing to the wall somehow and then by 9 in the morning i was finally falling asleep buuut the landlord schmucks show up and were making all this noise in the alley and shovelling up debris and ice and tore the whole thing off the building so now it’s not there anymore and i guess once it ice rains inevitably it will pour right into fil’s bedroom onto my face and i will like that a lot.
