you guys wanna see the dorkiest thing ever? Raymi – the early years.

ok pictures are a litle effed-up again. ah well. karaoke nite was last nite – the most important nite of the week. they let raymi sing 5 songs. i rocked the joint. i teamed-up with this drunken hippie lady to sing Hey Jude and she screamed the JuDeeee Judeeee Judeeeeeee part really loud. it was great. the karaoke lady and gentlemen asked me to be there every thursday. try and stop me from not coming back.

Quote from Raymi’s mom – what she thought about “Cunt Trumpet Music” the article Raymi wrote about Queefs.

“Raymi, I’m not sure this article is something to write home about, I didn’t even know there was such a term, I can’t even type it out…is this what you think about in your spare time? What about all those dance lessons I gave you, and swimming,skating,Brownies,guitar,journalism at Oxford in England…….oh well, anyway some advice for trumpet noises, just giggle, cough, or pretend that it didn’t happen or it may spoil the mood. Love mom oxox.”

uhhh, thanks. i think.

this is what my mum thought about my drunkAsshole piece.

“I started to read your drunkass stuff but didn’t finish it because there was a computer error and I couldn’t get back in, I hope the stuff you wrote is just a joke, you wouldn’t really want to get drunk and make people feel bad about themselves, that would show insecurity on your part, it’s always good to be nice to people Raymi.”

by the way, the drunk asshole piece is on a fancier page now. look at it.

the television paralyzes me. if you were to walk in the room with your hair on fire and i was watching cribs on MTV i would get mad at you for distracting me – that or i wouldn’t even notice. television is very important to me. yesterday i learned about the bermuda triangle and about Las vegas showgirls and the true story about the cosby kids. televison makes me so happy. and lazy. and fat.

today it’s all about futbol. bah. all i care about is the beer and the sausages and the chips. i don’t understand this country’s fascination with a 3 hour long sport. it wouldn’t be so long if you stopped the clock everytime one of those things happened where someone does something and the other team like catches it andthen everyone goes mental then uhh, everyone has to pay close attention to what just happened. it’s retarded. if they’d just throw the fuckin ball, run like hell and maybe punt a few times the game would be over in a matter of minutes. but no. you gotta have all this drama. whatever.

my favorite songs right now are love you madly by cake, billy jean by that weird jackson guy and life on a chain Pete Yorn.

I�m in an ok mood now. I�ve been masturbating and reading all morning long. Well, it�s early afternoon really, but for me the morning isn�t over until I�ve showered and dressed for the day. Two o�clock in the afternoon is 11 am my time. I�m in one of those all-I-want-to-do-is-walk-around-in-my-underwear-and-drink-coffee, moods. It doesn�t occur to me that I haven�t eaten in two days. I guess I�m a bit of a headcase. I realized this not long ago. I am now a fine product of indifference. Nothing phases me. Meh. Whatever. I�ve amped the heat up to 73, I�m walking around hunch-backed in my slippers, messy hair, red t-shirt and underpants. The world is going about its way outside, without me. Good for it. I can get my shit together right here and not move my ass for 8 hours. I did eat a Boston cream donut before getting out of bed. It was brought to me, that is the only reason why I ate it. I�m drinking cold coffee now. It�s bitter and tastes all wrong and I�m loving every gulp. It�s a sunny day out and not very cold. I might take up chain-smoking again just because I can. Wouldn�t that be nice. To abuse one�s body as much as one possibly can. Ahhh. Talk to me in a few hours and I�ll be nice again. I promise.