Happy Birthday to me!
Its my birthday tommorow!
So far the plan involves looking for a job, finishing my cv, finally making a mix cd and possibly going outside.
Dinner tommorow at 8.....dont be late.
In the mean time im going to spend my last hours of 26 watching "Dangerous Weapons" starring Chesty Morgan. When Gangsters kill her boyfriend, the eye popping excessively endowed Chesty Morgan seeks revenge with two of the most incredible weapons ever seen on the motion picture screen: Her 73 inch breasts. Zsa Zsa plays Chesty, an israeli stripper, who tracks down the men who offed her lover and smothers them by shoving their faces into her copious cleavage.
SHE DOENST HAVE BREASTS SHE HAS....DEADLY WEAPONS!
I have heard rack, hooters, melons and others too ridiculous to mention but I have never thought of calling them weapons before.
I am debating weather or not to open a myspace account. Something about it disturbs my inner being, possibly that there will finally be concrete evidence that I dont have any friends when the only people at the bottom of my page will be that guy Tom who everybody gets. Also, it seems that everyone who opens a myspace account is some kind of deejay, designer, musician, artist, mc, pirate. Why must we all be someone? Will i still get talked to at partys or do i have mention that I am deejaying at some place where everybody looks as if their favorite place in town started going down hill as soon somebody normal walks in the door. Does my opinion on anything at all matter or do I have to name drop who i did a line with, who said what or offer some kind of insider knowledge that only someone as privlidged as me to the inner cirlces of cool could possibly find out. Is it just ok that Im that kid that peed in his sleeping bag on school camp when i was 9 or who all the girls sang mickey mouse too on holidays coz i was frigid when i didnt want to be with their fat friend who wore cross colors and whose name was emily and because i was a ginger and wasnt realy tough and you know emily had cross colors so that made her you know a bit of a catch for a guy liek me so i had to be frigid coz otherwise i would have been with her, and then a year later when i never had a pair of cross colors coz i thought they looked stupid and you were all wearing your expensive jeans that you bought at dangerfield and i still had some kind of oversized levis you gave ME shit about wearing cross colors even tho we al know you had the yellow pair and look like a fucking idiot but somehow i was made to feel the outcast!
deep breath
so im turning 27, it feels good to have put all that angst behind me now that I have Chesty and her 73 inch weapons.
So far the plan involves looking for a job, finishing my cv, finally making a mix cd and possibly going outside.
Dinner tommorow at 8.....dont be late.
In the mean time im going to spend my last hours of 26 watching "Dangerous Weapons" starring Chesty Morgan. When Gangsters kill her boyfriend, the eye popping excessively endowed Chesty Morgan seeks revenge with two of the most incredible weapons ever seen on the motion picture screen: Her 73 inch breasts. Zsa Zsa plays Chesty, an israeli stripper, who tracks down the men who offed her lover and smothers them by shoving their faces into her copious cleavage.
SHE DOENST HAVE BREASTS SHE HAS....DEADLY WEAPONS!
I have heard rack, hooters, melons and others too ridiculous to mention but I have never thought of calling them weapons before.
I am debating weather or not to open a myspace account. Something about it disturbs my inner being, possibly that there will finally be concrete evidence that I dont have any friends when the only people at the bottom of my page will be that guy Tom who everybody gets. Also, it seems that everyone who opens a myspace account is some kind of deejay, designer, musician, artist, mc, pirate. Why must we all be someone? Will i still get talked to at partys or do i have mention that I am deejaying at some place where everybody looks as if their favorite place in town started going down hill as soon somebody normal walks in the door. Does my opinion on anything at all matter or do I have to name drop who i did a line with, who said what or offer some kind of insider knowledge that only someone as privlidged as me to the inner cirlces of cool could possibly find out. Is it just ok that Im that kid that peed in his sleeping bag on school camp when i was 9 or who all the girls sang mickey mouse too on holidays coz i was frigid when i didnt want to be with their fat friend who wore cross colors and whose name was emily and because i was a ginger and wasnt realy tough and you know emily had cross colors so that made her you know a bit of a catch for a guy liek me so i had to be frigid coz otherwise i would have been with her, and then a year later when i never had a pair of cross colors coz i thought they looked stupid and you were all wearing your expensive jeans that you bought at dangerfield and i still had some kind of oversized levis you gave ME shit about wearing cross colors even tho we al know you had the yellow pair and look like a fucking idiot but somehow i was made to feel the outcast!
deep breath
so im turning 27, it feels good to have put all that angst behind me now that I have Chesty and her 73 inch weapons.
posted by Gram at 5:30 AM
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