How many days are left here? To be honest, in my head it makes survival a little harder when counting is involved-unless I'm counting down, of course. I can't wait for school to start. Why? Let's sum it up in a very confusing post.

Religion: Worse than being pulled in four directions toward a meat grinder. Sweeter than anything you've ever tasted (diabetic coma sweet). It's all in the root of the reason, methinks.

Take my godmother. The born-again, "hallelujah", "Take this Book and read it" kind of woman. When she was named godmother at my baptism, she didn't even know what a pew looked like, but she got the job because she was at my birth while my dad was watching the Bears game (the lovable douchebag). With me, there's a 'push it and I'll pull away' mentality, so as soon as she got 'saved', I started looking for anything to believe in other than having to go to monotheistic mafia-run storefront churches that held no weight in religious fulfillment. My problem was my father's-our belief was that anything is real if you believe in it strongly enough. I like to call it the 'Peter Pan Complex'.

I avoid calling the godmother because as soon as the reciever's picked up, she denounces my homosexuality although she knows nothing of it. The religious types-they have interesting Spidey sense. She also denounces the dragon's pendant around my neck, calling it evil witchcraft. Then she goes off into this 20 minute prayer service on the phone denouncing everything else except my underwear, so I take the opportunity to listen in and zone out. It all started in 8th grade when I bought this snazzy poster, which was also the first poster traded for my currency. It was psychedelic, which complimented the obscene hippie stage of my life before I fell into the emotional 3 years of high school. It had tye-dye swirling around it almost like an accidental optical illusion. In the center were two tigers designed to fit the symbol of Yin and Yang. White and black, dominant submissive, good and evil, ect. The godmother visited our modest little apartment and toured my room while I screwed around with my gigapet (it was a Little Mermaid one. It ate seaweed crackers and played with a beachball. I loved her dearly). While I was busy feeding and playing away with Ariel the Warrior Mermaid, my attention was detoured when the godmother asked me about it and I explained it to her. Before I even finished, she went off into this sweet-talking tyraid about how I was indulging in Satan and I need to rebuke the liar. In the same sentence, she kind of pissed my dad off, denouncing (there's that word again) our belief in the existence of hell. After that day, anything I pretty much did was evil, but she still loves me, and I love her respectively. I just never want to say a word to her anymore, cause I'll probably go to hell for it. :P

starting to involuntarily bond with my parents now that there's only three of us. Amidst the endless card games with my mother and listening to my father playfully mock me for being more 'old school' than he is, I'm gaining a spark of assurance that everything will be alright in the long run. Of course, the criticisms from my mother are always there (ie: "lose weight, grow up, find a boyfriend, get some black friends", yadayadayada), but I'm beginning to think that she can't help it. She has a fair amount of obsession with her appearance and everyone else's. The father and I are on the same length for about 90% of it-we don't care. I think I planned out my sophomore year. Everything I want comes later. Everything I really want comes first. What do I really want? Simple-I want in that damned English Honors Society. So I'll be working toward that and a job first. Too many things at once will definitely screw me up

Relationships-Hm. I assume I've never really pondered over it at all this summer. Indifference is good in this area for now. People go crazy in love, and I'm already half-off the deep end in life. I'll leave this area alone and see what happens. Yeah. We're seriously going to go through with the foster care! I'm excited, especially since the rules speculate that the kids that will be coming need actual rooms. With that said, I'll be kicked into the basement (which is where I've wanted to live since we moved in this house). Plus, I want to be able to have a sibling relationship with a kid to make up for the one I never had with my sister or brothers. I'm also excited about the background check we're getting to be able to house the children. It's all CSI-like.

Plymouth Rock took its time on me.
I would assume that it was waiting
for some sign of life to spout out
from my mouth while I rambled
nonsensical nonsense
and had deep discussions
with my own little bottle of fermented
potatoes.
After awhile, my dialated pupils
realized that the rest of the room
was souless and the shells
of the party guests had trotted away
to tend to their own affairs.
That's just like the rest of the world
to leave me here alone.

Yeah copyrights! I'm quite proud of this one...

For the most part, I'm lucky I've never really gone through this before. What is it? I'm getting there.

A few days ago, another (and be glad you don't know about the other ones) confrontation broke out at The Underground, which is a little hangout in this modest college town. For the past two weeks, it's seemed like every time I go down there, something happens. Those two days ago were no different. A friend of ours called another friend a child and a spaz.

Now, I know what you're thinking. No big deal, right?

Well, it was to her. She looked up to the guy, and for him to knock her down like that so vehemently was...ignorant, especially since she has symptoms of A.D.D. that we're planning on following up on along with her at a doctor's office in Chicago.

For the past two days, she's been crying, and myself plus a few other friends couldn't take it anymore, so we've been pretty much demanding an apology from him on her behalf. But he won't do it because he stands behind what he says and he's "Tired of being Politically Correct"

Don't come to me with that bullshit.

To stand there and not apologize while at the same time calling my friends immature makes you even younger in your actions than the rest of us combined. I'm sorry if I have some empathy and can't stand to see someone hurt over something that obviously hurt her-especially since it came from you. All we asked for was an apology.

He won't do it.

I see no reason to continue any sort of friendship with him then.

And that's what hurts the most.

Hearts and roses and kisses galore...
What the hell is all that shit for?
People get mushy and start acting queer
It is definitely the most annoying day of the year
This day needs to get the hell over with and pass
Before I shove a dozen roses up Cupid's ass
I'll spend the day so drunk I can't speak
And wear all black for the rest of the week
Guys act all sweet, but it soon will fade
For all they are doing is trying to get laid
The arrow Cupid shot at me must not have hit
Because I think love is a crock of shit
So there's the story...what else can I say?
Love bites my ass...Fuck Valentines Day!

I've got time to waste, so I'll make a quick journal, then get obsessive and garner into deeper topics *Le gasp*

Let's see...This weekend, I'm dorm-hopping, whilst the roommate has some high school acquaintances over.

I've found a site that I may want to give my virginity to. It's that good.

radioblogclub.com Yeah!

I have a speech due, and anxiety kills me, but today is a kickass day!

That is all (for now)

Peace!

Yeah, I pledged, and no I'm not on crack. I don't know what came over me. Alpha Xi Delta seems like the anti-sorority sorority. I feel like I'm on the same level with those girls, especially since they all seem really cool, so I decided to give the informal rush a shot. Today was the last day, where stuff happened and we dressed up. It was pretty neat, and I felt like I was a part of something. That's always a good thing to feel, especially in this society where you're lucky you can afford soup. If I'm lucky, I'll get the bid to be in the sorority. If not, then we'll have to try again then, won't we? I'm not getting my hopes up. I've been knocked down enough times. Heh.

I have a lot of stuff to catch up on, so you may wonder why I'm wasting time on my LJ, where you can't masturbate all the time (XD)? I dunno. Just to get worry off of my chest. I really do hope I make it. That would kick ass.

[/end transmission]

I was gonna strive to make this one of my longest journal posts...but it's 12:34a.m. in Illinois, so that's not going to happen anytime soon. Here we go...

I didn't want to go to the IMEA (Illinois Music Educators Association)

I wasn't joking.

Apparently, everyone thought I was secretly psyched about being among my fellow music freaks for four days even though I had only been back to school from break for about two weeks.

I'm jetlagged...or carlagged. I wasn't too settled, or too thrilled when all of a sudden, I'm forced to go to something that didn't benefit me in the long run. Most of the presentations I went to were for educators with a focus on vocal conducting/performing. I'm mainly for the instrumental side of the spectrum and it pissed me off that democracy had both the final say on me having to go and where I had to go as far as different presentations on things. So it was safe to say I wasn't in the greatest mood in the world.

On top of that, I had the unfortunate luck to be in the middle of gay U.S.A. and I wasn't cheerful. You can't expect to be a contradiction and get away with it, especially in a music setting. Needless to say, I'm sure I missed out on a couple of good flings while at the convention. The ladies were two thumbs up all around. Poo poo on me, I say.

Long story short, I missed class for a bullshit convention that barely got me any closer to realizing my dream of going back to my high school, burning every string instrument I find, and renaming the Orchestra the Maria Marching Mystics. Hell yeah. Waste of time.

~And now, back to our regularly scheduled gripe.~

Ok, I'm glad I have time to let this out now. If you're tired of what I'm about to touch on, then don't read it. I'm not forcing the only 3-4 people on my friend's list to. I should spend more time on this thing. It's not as craptacular as I had originally thought.

*Ahem* Let's do it.

I dunno what the hell happened on HC, and the fact that I can't say "Carooroo" anymore because she's not there has pissed me off to a certain extent. I only just about a half hour ago decided to make a grand re-entrance into the OOC Thread after I told myself that mean people suck and I don't wanna risk making the wrong kind of friends so I won't go back anymore. *shrugs* I guess I get attached to the first people I talk to and when they're forced out (which is what I'm gathering since I remember good old C-shizzle admantly refusing to let the Corporate Castle get the best of her) to the point that I can never talk to them there again, it blows many a hookah, and not in the good way.

What's my point?

It wasn't fair, that's my motherfuckin' point. (Oy...I used the mother of all swears. I hadn't done that since the summer of '92. Yeah, I'm mad)

Now I know that my escape from reality is just as brutal as that fabled actuality.

There is no escape then....sonofabitch

EMO Journal....*cough*

Damn, can't win for losing in this world.

End scene.

The the impotence of proofreading

Has this ever happened to you?
You work very horde on a paper for English clash
And then get a very glow raid (like a D or even a D=)
and all because you are the word¹s liverwurst spoiler.
Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.

This is a problem that affects manly, manly students.
I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English teacher in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that¹s all I wanted, just to get into a good colleague.
Not just anal community colleague,
because I wouldn¹t be happy at anal community colleague.
I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation,
I really need to be challenged, challenged dentally.
I know this makes me sound like a stereo,
but I really wanted to go to an ivory legal collegue.
So I needed to improvement
or gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison
(in Prison, New Jersey).

So I got myself a spell checker
and figured I was on Sleazy Street.

But there are several missed aches
that a spell chukker can¹t can¹t catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave a word
your spell exchequer won¹t put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov might replace a word
with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because what do you want it to douch?
It only does what you tell it to douche.
You¹re the one with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit.
It just goes to show you how embargo
one careless clit of the mouth can be.

Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher read my entire paper on A Sale of Two Titties
out loud to all of my assmates.
I¹m not joking, I¹m totally cereal.
It was the most humidifying experience of my life,
being laughed at pubically.

So do yourself a flavor and follow these two Pisces of advice:
One: There is no prostitute for careful editing.
And three: When it comes to proofreading,
the red penis your friend.

I think I'm gonna re-name this site EMOJournal....because you Can't CUT all the time. No offense-it's midnight and I tend to be a bastard in the wee hours before my astrological sign's ruling hours (2:00 a.m. to 5:00 a.m. or something like that)

Why name it EMOJournal? Because as much as I'm NOT Emo on the outside (really, I'm like cocaine on wheels around here), I'm just a damn waiting to be released within. And it doesn't help now that I've experienced what humanoids the world over have called a crush that has completely developed into what dead poets and Jerry Springer Show Guests have called love.

*Audience Groan*

Yep, I'm talking about her again, the four-eyed vixen that stole my heart and is probably getting wasted with the blasted thing as we speak. Damn it all.

I have never gotten fuzzy feelings from hugging someone...really now, FUZZY FEELINGS?! Oh, the humanity! What's the saddest part about this entire thing?

We both like each other.

What? Then what the fuck's the problem, you ask impatiently while twirling a stick around...

It's me, dude. It's me.

I'm your average new-generation American Teenager: Too STUPID to say anything at all, knowing that I'm gonna regret it at some given point and time (by the by, the regret's already happened because I waited too late *cough*)Either way...

Get ready for this, folks. It's called the upside, or the glass being half full:

She still likes me, so I'll be sure to do something about it when the oppportunity presents itself again. The door will slam no more, lest my cowardice get the best of me. Yay for semi-happy endings.
~*~
In other news, I'm rooming with Lenu next year, which means I have to lay off of the illegal drugery, and I have done so for about a month and a half. Yay for me. It wasn't too hard to do, since I have too much shit to do anyway that involve what little brain cells I still hold in my head's possession.

Aside from the constant physical abuse and the introducing me to HC (which became a new addiction, thus the blessing/curse), Lenuvira's been the most recent and, dare I say best influence on my life thus far. Prongs-she's better than all of us, and she's my "grandma" although I do consider her to be more like a mother.

That's one step up.

Plus, I own her legs...I'll save that explanation for another day.

Yay Creative Writing. It rocks my socks, especially since my Professor has more loose bolts than a...thing that has loose bolts.

Yes. I know that was bad.

So sue me.

(No, don't sue me. I'm poor. You'll just get a thank-you note for trying)

I'm in somewhat of a cracked-out mood, therefore, I will post what I've been posting everywhere obsessively....

Purple: Hey Charlie, Hey Charlie wake up
Pink: Yeah Charlie you silly sleepy head wake up
Charlie: Ugh, god you guys, this better be pretty freaking important. Is the meadow on fire?
Purple: No Charlie, we found a map, to Candy Mountain. Candy Mountain Charlie.
Pink: Yeah Charlie were going to Candy mountain. Come with us Charlie
Purple: Yeah Charlie, it ll be an adventure, were going on an adventure, Charlie
Charlie: Yeah, Candy Mountain, right, I’m just gonna, ya know go back to sleep now
Purple: NOOOOOO, Charlie, you have to come with us to Candy Mountain
Pink: Yeah Charlie, Candy Mountain. It’s a land of sweets and joy, and joyness
Charlie: Please stop bouncing on me
Purple: Candy Mountain Charlie
Pink: Yeah, Candy Mountain
Charlie: Alright fine I’ll go with you to Candy Mountain

Pink/Purple: La-La-La La-La-La La-La-La-La-La-La La-La-La.-
Charlie: Ah enough with the singing already
Purple: Our first stop is over there Charlie
Charlie: Oh god what is that thing
Purple: It’s a Leoplurodon Charlie
Pink: A magical Leoplurodon
Purple: Its gonna guide our way to Candy Mountain
Charlie: Alright guys you do know that there’s no actual Candy Mountain
Purple: Shun the non believer
Pink: Shuuuun
Purple: Shhhhuuuuunnnnnnna
Charlie: Yeah
Leoplurodon: (weird freaky noise that is untypable)
Purple: It has spoken
Pink: It has told us the waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
Charlie: It didn’t say anything

Purple: Its just over this bridge Charlie
Pink: This magical bridge of hope and wonder
Charlie: Is anyone else, like, getting covered in splinters? Seriously guys we shouldn’t be on this thing
Purple: Charliiiieeee, Charrrrrliiiieee, Chaaarrrrrliiiee, Chaaaaar-
Charlie: I’m right here, what do you want
Purple: We’re on a bridge Charlie

Pink: We’re here
Charlie: Well what do you know there actually is a Candy Mountain
Purple: Candy Mountain, Candy Mountain, you fill me with sweet sugary goodness
Pink: Go inside the Candy Mountain Cave Charlie
Purple: Yeah Charlie go inside the cave, magical wonders that’ll behold when you enter
Charlie: Yeah, Uh, thanks but no thanks I’m gonna stay out here
Pink: But you have to enter the Candy Mountain Candy Cave, Charlie

Letter Y:Oh when you’re down and you’re looking for some cheering up
Then just head right on up to the candy mountain cave
When you get inside you find yourself a cheery land
Such a happy and joy filled and perky merry land
They’ve got lollipops and gummi drops and candy things
Oh so many things that will brighten up your day
It’s impossible to wear a frown in candy town
It’s the neck of lovely candy cave
They’ve got jellybeans and coconut with little hats
Candy rats, chocolate bats, it’s a wonderland of sweets
Buy the candy train to town and hear the candy band
Candy bells, it’s a treat, as they march across the land
Cherry ribbon stream across the sky and to the ground
Turn around, it astounds, it’s a dancing candy treat
In the candy cave imagination runs so free
So now Charlie please will you go into the cave
Charlie: Alright fine, I’ll go into the freaking Candy Cave, This had better be good
Pink/Purple: Yahhhhh
Purple Goodbye Charlie
Pink: Yeah goodbye Charlie
Charlie: Goodbye? What? Hey, what’s goin on here? Hello? Who is that?
*Whack**Whack*

Charlie: Ow Guh. What Happened? Ahh they took my freaking kidney

(Below is the YouTube to the script that will waste about 3-4 minutes of your life)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xV9A4v6G3E

Come to Candy Mountain with me! BWHAHAHAH

I haven't posted in here in quite some time, but I guess I have things to say that are relative to my every day life...here we go.

I want to go back to school. I need to get out of this hellhole quick, fast and in a hurry, right after I get from the doctor's office, of course.

My symptoms are getting worse and we don't know what it is, but it sucks when you realized that you slept most of the day and did nothing productive with your life. It really sucks. At the very least, I have friends willing to kidnap me and feed me asian food while I watch them ride the carousel at the mall. Good times. By kidnapping me, I mean calling me two seconds before they pull up in front of my house...good times, indeed.

In other news, I've been doing ok as far as laying off bad stuff for awhile and all. My problem's not that bad, but it probably will get worse, and I'm ok with it. People have tried to stop me from doing it but...I don't even think I can stop myself. It just feels pleasant before and after. I have to. It's too good to pass up.

As far as my love life: it's a work in progress, I tell ya.

Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh.

I'm not interested in going back home. I'd much rather stay here. I know I sound nuts, but…just no. That's where I'm gonna leave this mini-rant. At least I get to see the homies. We will go and play in the sandbox and wonder why no one will pick up the excessive amount of poop at Marquette Park.

Yeah.

I'm challenging myself writing-wise, along with others who are doing it for me (Thanks- I need this by the way). I feel like catching a little Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. Oh, so fun.

Non-stop drop, baby.

Don't ask for this to make sense-the cereal goddess promised me it wouldn't.

Pirate Facts (and by pirate, I refer to me):

I want some damn tacos! Donations welcome.

If my nose or feet are cold, don't expect me to sleep that night

Tacos

Tacos

Tacos

I want to come out of college with a damn job. I don't ask for much in this world, and neither should you…unless of course, your ambition takes you to higher heights. It's like that guy…that did stuff.

I wanna see Pursuit of Happyness. Looks like a feel-good movie to finish out the year.

I should write about the origin of Fallopian Tubes. To whoever already heard this, sorry for my adamant idiocy:

There was once a girl named Fallopia who lived on the South Side of Chicago. There were also two gangs locked in a heated war-the Cryps and the Bloods. They took their battle to Fallopia's neighborhood.

Now, Fallopia, who is a bit naïve to the gangster scene, went out into the street and smack-dab in the middle of a shootout that the Cryps and Bloods were in the middle of. She was instantly shot in the abdomen and fell to the ground, bleeding profusely.

It was at this time that her family ran out to see what the trouble was, and upon the sight of their relative's body, they ran to her and cradled her in their arms, screaming, "Fallopia…Fallopia!"

One relative looked down and noticed where she'd been shot and he was so stunned, he stuttered, "Fallo-Fallopian Tubes!".

The name stuck, and this is why now, a part of the female reproductive system is named the Fallopian Tubes.

Fallopia-she died. Let us pour some Kool-Aid for our dead homie.

To Fallopia *Raises cup*
~*~
Eh...Put something in my stocking, why don't ya! :D

( my xmas stocking )

I hate it...What do I hate, you ask? The fact that every waking day since college, I have barely had a reason to smile. Granted, most of it is my fault, but after awhile, when you realize that there's no real reason to smile about anything anymore, it kind of makes you feel shittier than toilets after lunch. I hate my major with all of my being (after praying this summer that I wouldn't), classes that I can't understand seem to be digging deeper holes for me to fall in...and I'm an ass. I guess that's the last part. I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry or I didn't mean it, because I didn't. I guess I should never have done it in the first place. I've never had a full-fledged breakdown yet, but I can tell it's coming. I'm tearing up at this very moment. It's hard to try and deal with the weight of your own life, much less the world. In the long run, I've never really cared about myself to be honest.

I never had friends until the 6th grade, and even then I never talked to them that much. It was just an association thing. My mom would always comment on how I needed to go outside. Lady, how could I do that when I can't even look myself in the mirror? (Surprisingly enough, I still haven't conquered that end of the spectrum) It got to a point where I was just waitinig patiently for the expiration of my life, because you didn't get tagged with the date when you were procreated. Then I got to seventh grade and figured "what the hell? I might as well at least try to make friends. It's not like it'll last" I still thank God everyday that I made that decision, because sure I don't see the people of my past too much anymore, but at least they left impressions on me that I'm trying to keep.

High School isn't even worth talking about, save for a few special people that I met during that time. Now, I can't win for losing. Sure, the people here are awesome. It's just me. I have a knack for being an ass, a pussy, and an idiot. These two mixed together brings out some hideous results. The girl I wanted to ask out but was too scared to is taken now, everything that comes out of my mouth is an insult that I never mean for them to be to anyone, and I can't pass a test if it raped me twelve times while yelling the answer in my ear in sing-song fashion.

Thankfully, I'm too lazy and too far gone to want to kill myself. I'll just wait for my life to run it's course, since it's sooner than I think. On top of that, my heart's just....fuck it.

Dammit, this has been an awful week...First off, I'm still to scared to talk to her, but that's another entry for another time.

I've been stressed beyond belief and it didn't really come crashing down on me until yesterday. I hate the fact that I'm not good at playing in front of people at all, but put me in a room by myself and I'm just fine. If I'm not careful, I just may fail in life. Erg, gotta work on that one. I have a paper due at 2:00 that I haven't even started yet because I really don't know where to start. I'll have to get on that soon. At 8:00 I have an education test that I am not ready for, and at 10:30, I have a meeting with the dean because I suck at math...

Pray that you make it through this weekend. That's all I can ask of myself.

I'm not really looking forward to going home-the food, of course I'm looking forward to that, but otherwise, eh. I guess you could say I'm tired of feeling like the campus's biggest joke. However, Steve did tell me that freshman year was hell. I just refused to believe it. Nevertheless, I have to pray that I make it through this weekend.

Short entry, with an even shorter time to get it together. I must cover up my emo...

Oooh. I finally have something to talk about.

Six Flags Fright Fest=Complete and total mollification.

I never got on the Superman ride because the line was always monstrously long-but not yesterday. I endured the line and got on one of the best rides of my life. Yes, I felt like I was flying and having an impromptu orgasm at the same time....would you call that a florgasm? I dunno.

Afterward, a lot of things transpired. An expensive-ass lunch (12.97 for chicken fingers and fries? Aye...) The blessing God gave me in the form of my giant ass so that I didn't have to ride the Raging Bull (Allelujah.), the Monster Mash (childhood tradition), and the swinging thing where the cape I bought fluttered in the breeze as I swung. Good times.

My mind has lost all concentration. I was the meaty 10 year old my friends back home know and love. It's been awhile since I've been able to go out and have some good old fashioned fun. I also got a Cubbie Bear...I named him CUBpernicus...Yeah, I can be lame at times. No matter. Maybe these posts will be longer as I grow older. Then I'll have some rather nutty shit to talk about. Peace.

Well, I was thinking of getting myself some kind of present this year...

I figure this is it.

How to start? First off, I should cover what I didn't in my profile as homage to those who shall read. My name, as you can see, is Monica. I am a college freshman and a naive teenager who only goes to the frat complex for some late night "libations". I am also a lesbian who's slowly becoming proud of that fact. That would be the other reason I created this account. Somebody's gotta document the trials and tribulations of an awesome, yet conceited bastard.

It's only been three weeks of college and already I'm getting stressed beyond belief. That's good though--now I get to be prepared for the next time I fail a test or wake up thirty minutes late for a class. Good times...

Relationship-wise, I'm about as good as a cottonmouth snake's sting. I've been in only two, and in both I batted a .2 average. Clearly not that great, but I'm a Cubs fan, so what do you expect? God, I love the Cubs.

Video-game wise, I'm addicted to the Legend of Zelda. If Shigeru Miyamoto were to ever die, I may hold a candleight vigil for him, because I know, deep down, that with him dies the legend as well. What else...? Well, I have this infatuation with Toni Braxton. I like to think we're together, although this is clearly my imagination and nothing more. So much for the good times...

I play the baritone. I'm not saying I'm good at it, but I'm stable enough to carry a tune. I also play (or at least try to) the trombone with F attachment. I've always wanted to learn to play the Ocarina, as it seems a bit easier to handle. Hell, it's a friggin' potato with holes.

This, I think, is the start to one glorious, homo-fied adventure which I have to pray around to get through. Bear with me, folks, please. Peace.

"I'm not a great lover. I once gave a woman an anti-climax"