Friday, January 31, 2003
The most incredible thing happened to me while I was pumping gas today. Well, two incredible things actually. The first being that I had enough money in my checking account to constitute me being able to pump gas. The second being that I found God. No, seriously. I really did. I was leaning against my car, trying to look as cute as possible pumping gas, just in case a good looking guy in a Dodge Viper drove up, he'd think "Damn she looks sexy pumping gas" and take me away in his sexy black car with a black leather interior. While I was leaning there mastering my come hither stare, a Baptist church bus pulled up. Ok, a little odd, but the Bapists need gas too. On my way back out from buying my pack of Camel cigarettes, I noticed there was a nice looking guy standing next to my car. All I was thinking was "Clare, if he drives a Viper, this is it!". I tossed my hair over my shoulder (which was about as graceful as the time I fell off my friends porch in a drunken stupor) and put on my best smile. The guy walked away from my car, making room for the one guy I didnt see, who looked something like a garden gnome I saw once in a magazine but far less attractive. He looked at me and said "If you died tonight, would you go to heaven or to hell?" In normal Clare fashion, my response was something along the lines of "Huh? What the fuck?". He then proceeded to give me a lecture on why I needed to attend church while the bus of Bible Thumpers watched. Apparently, Im a bad enough case that the ENTIRE FUCKING BUS needs to try to save me, not just one bible thumping God fearing lunatic. I sat there and listened to a 10 minute speech on why Im a horrible person. At which point, I decided, next time, I'm going to prepare myself. Now I just have to find a place where they will sell me mace and a cattle prod.
Posted by Clare at 1/31/2003 12:40:00 PM
Thursday, January 30, 2003
There is only one thing in this entire world that is worse for my fragile psyche than flipping through the pages of Cosmo magazine. That one thing comes in the form of video games. I pride myself in being a remotely intellegent human being. I am capable of solving difficult problems, I have common sense, and every once in awhile, I can dress myself. Unfortunately, I was also apparently born without hand-eye coordination. Judging by the way I just butchered Mario and Luigi, I should have someone type this for me, just to be sure the keyboard doesn't somehow fly away from me and somehow endanger an innocent passerby. Not only do I royally suck at video games, I'm borderline dangerous around them. Which is why I asked my parents to buy me a Playstation 2 for Christmas. Not only was I going to have the incarnate of the devil in my possession, I was going to master it. And, as these things usually turn out, it kicked my ass. Royally. It all began when I couldn't hook it up correctly. There are 3 cords, one red, one white and one yellow. I thought to myself, Clare, this is like sex. Just put it in the hole. So I did. And, just like my sex life, nothing happened. Nothing. At all. Again, like my sex life, I refused to give up, and moved things around a little bit, and tried again. And, just like always happens, absolutely nothing happened. After an hour of fighting with it, I swallowed my pride and looked at the directions. After running to Target to purchase the peice that was missing from my TV, I finally had a working Playstation 2! In my excitement, I threw Test Drive 2 into the drive, and got ready to kick some ass in some cute cars. Scrolling through I found a Dodge Charger. And having mental images of Vin Diesel in that Dodge Charger with a little t-shirt on, I picked it and waited in anticipation for the game to begin. The countdown began. On 0, I hit the X button, and my car was off! I sped from the starting point...right into a fucking wall. I spent the rest of my allotted 30 seconds trying to turn the car around. And it never happened. However, it did make a nifty noise. This cannot possibly be good for my psyche.
Posted by Clare at 1/30/2003 11:19:00 PM
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
Having switched from a small private liberal arts college to the reality of a community college, I have made one very important realization. Community college is like highschool with ashtrays. It consists of the same people, years later, with the same attitudes and same problems. Cheryl Cheerleader is pregnant again. Just like she was her senior year of highschool. If she hasn't figured out yet that sex causes children, she's a bigger idiot than I thought. Frankie Football Stud is still dumb as a stump, and is probably passing his classes because he a)Slept with the professor or b)They want rid of him, just like most of the student body did in higschool. He should go back to his goal of getting Cheryl knocked up again, seeing as he's done a good job so far. When I went to that small liberal arts college, I was positive that it was the most stuck up pretentious place in the world. I would go back there in a second if it meant getting out of this hell hole. The kids there are rich, spoiled and are most likely the biggest assholes you've ever met, but atleast they have IQs bigger than their shoesize, and more often times than not, their weight. At this place, if the IQs matched their weights, this building would be full of fucking geniuses. The class level is the same that I encountered at highschool. The only main difference now is that I can smoke without the assistant principal waddling after me with a detention slip, and in highschool I had an easier time breaking through the firewall that blocked me from The Misanthropic Bitch's website. This is college people. Not highschool. The fact that a website such as that is blocked in the first place makes me rethink alot of my decisions and want my tuition check back. Like one of my professors told me. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. If that is the case, I sure as shit don't want to spend it here. Like I responded. If today is the first day of the rest of my life, I'm going to kill myself. I planned on going through this entire thing sober, but after all, I am a tweeker chick. And somehow I think tweeking is going to be the only entertaining thing from this entire experience. That and seeing how many kids that slut Cheryl can pop out before she figures it out.
Posted by Clare at 1/29/2003 12:35:00 PM