I know it's been awhile.
I haven't had much to say, really.

I got a B on my senior thesis thingy. Yay.
Got my heart broken into a million pieces on Thanksgiving, which is my main reason for not posting.

He still wants to be friends, and anything I would say would ruin that.
But I'm trying.
It's just not easy to switch it on and off.

I wish he wouldn't read this. He will anyway.
He never listened very well.

"Maybe sometime in the future...".
Right.
And I know there are other guys. They all try to take me out.
I don't want them. I've tried.
None of them know how many olives I like on my Subway sandwiches.
Or which side of the bed I sleep on.
Or think its funny that I'm clumsy and kiss my owies.

I wish he'd stop reading this now. Again, with the not listening.
70/30 We work it out. Someday. Before I die. Maybe.
Like a horse race.
I'd rather play poker. Better odds.

I've been sick. The Prednisone isn't helping my emotional state.
I think I stole Seriously's writing style.
He does it better.
I'll give it back to him when I'm done using it.
It's not stealing if I give it back. I'm borrowing
I think I borrowed Seriously's writing style.
Not even borrowed. Butchered.

If there's another girl she's lucky.
Stupid other girls being luckier than me.
Stupid being illegal to run them over with the car.
More than once.
Makes it hard to look like an accident.
Lucky girl won't ever squeak as good as me.
My yawn will still be the cutest.


I'm super far behind in my classes now.
Can't focus.
It'll pass.
All of it will pass.
Still waiting for it assholes.

Anytime now would be great.

I'm in the computer lab, and god damn am I annoyed.
I've been trying for over an hour to write a 2 page paper.
I can't get anything done, because some people just don't know how not to act like an asshole in public.
So, I will provide you with a quick guide.

Clare's Guide To Not Being A Huge Asshole During Finals
1. If you are in a computer lab, shut the fuck up. Seriously. Unless you are doing small group work, shut your hole. If you are doing small group work, keep it down. People are tired. We have shit to do. None of us give a shit that your boyfriend is a whore, that you got your little sister a necklace for Christmas, or that you don't know the definition of the word "Emo". Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
If it is so goddamn pressing, leave and go get a latte. Maybe someone there gives a flying shit what you have to say.
2. Turn your cell on vibrate, and don't fucking answer it in the library. Again. I have a 25-30 page paper due, and I don't give a shit that your sisters ex fiance isn't paying child support. The rest of us don't either.
3. The looks that you are getting from everyone are not because we think you're cute. If 7 people are staring at you, you are probably doing something obnoxious. Figure out what the fuck it is and fucking quit it.
4. Laughing is not acceptable. I know that your major of "buying cocaine inbetween manicures" is really pressing, however the rest of us are not having fun. We don't want to listen to anyone else having fun either.
5. No one wants your advice. If you ever tell anyone that I have to work with to "use big words during your presentation, you'll be fine" again, I will kick you right in the fucking cooter.
6. There is nothing wrong with looking like shit. I am going to get roughly 4 hours of sleep in the next 5 days. If I have pants on, I don't want to hear it from you.
7. If you have a fake major, no one wants to hear about how hard your final is. This rule doesn't apply for seminar students. But if I have to hear one more art major bitching about how they have to throw a pot (or smoke some pot, or something) while I'm up to my large white ass in empirical research about monkeys having sex, I will go to jail.
8. Don't ask people to switch computers so you can sit next to your friends. This is finals. Finding an empty computer is hard enough. I will not move so you can set up your sorority circle jerk in the library. This is not me being a bitch. This is me not wanting to move 12 articles, 200 pages of articles and data, and try to get all situated somewhere else.

More later, I have to go to class.
These dumb whores totally ruined my break.
Boo.

I don't have a lot to post about lately.
We had to put my doggie to sleep, so I'm really just struggling to get along right now. I'm not sure why this is fucking with me as much as it is.
I've decided that I'm going to allow myself to be miserable for awhile (it's been a pretty shitty two weeks) despite the loving advice of "stop feeling sorry for yourself".
I'm going through a thing right now, and I apologize for anyone who has to deal with me.
I miss my doggie.
Things got bad awfully fast.
She stopped eating entirely, and after taking her to the vet they couldn't find anything wrong. 4 days later they found a bunch of cancer and fluid in her lungs.
My poor baby girl.
Anyway. I'm rambling, I didn't take my Ritalin and I miss my Frankie.

You know when your professors tell you to save everything in two places?
They neglect to tell you that it doesn't make a damn bit of difference when your old piece of shit computer wipes out 5 weeks of work on a seminar paper.
(For those of you who aren't in the Augustana bubble, a seminar paper is a senior thesis type of dealy).
5 weeks worth of work is gone.
Completely.
Utterly.
Gone.
Can't be retrieved.
I have one paragraph to show for 5 weeks of work.
I also have roughly a new 2 grand in credit card debt because I bought a new computer (I can't afford to have this happen again).
Thus, I don't feel like posting a whole hell of a lot right now, seeing as I have to catch up 5 weeks worth of work.

Please. Kill me.
Send me money.
Or at least visit some of the sites below.

They are in serious need of females like me. Whiny girls with delusional ideas of sisterhood who present themselves like cum receptacles need not apply.

He really can do no wrong.

Your #1 Source For Everything. I love this guy. Visit his site, comment, bask in the gloriousness that is him.

None More Worthless/

I need to hang out with this girl.

Got your soap box?

I know.
I never post.
Blah blah blah.
I'll post later today I hope.
Until then, go to TJNR, click around on some links, take a peek at the Anne Hathaway Boob Pictures, and stop whining.
I'm not sure why Anne Hathaway naked is so special, but I know like, 40 people with tennis elbow now.

I am a super excited Clarissa!!
Although classes are kicking my large ass all over the place, and I'm all stressed about everything under the sun, and probably need some prescription medicine to deal with it, life is good.
My heterolifemate is coming to visit on Saturday. And you all know what that means.
Drinking. A lot of it.
I might even buy a bottle of Jack Daniels and some Chaser Hangover pills. You know, to kick the year off right.
I'm so excited. I miss my heterolifemate big bunches.
Anyway, if you're one of the people allowed to party, feel free to show up.
If you suck, you might want to stay away. I'm feeling a little frisky lately.
Now all I need is a decent recipe for jungle juice.
Let the festivities begin!

The first day of classes is always a weird day. You know, getting back into the swing of doing things like waking up in the morning after a bout with insomnia, dragging my ass to the gym to lose the extra weight, and trying to make myself look half decent before I venture into public, that sort of thing.
It took me until this term to realize that I've had it all wrong.
I could cut out endless hours of primping, drying, putting on makeup and shaving my legs by doing one simple, easy thing.
Becoming a feminist.
Apparently, when you join them, they hand you a membership card and a cute little outfit to go with it. No more trying to figure out what outfit I should wear.
I would be required to wear Birkenstocks with white socks, tan pants that are way too short, a brown shirt, and turquoise jewelry. Apparently, wearing a lot of brown makes one in tune with nature or something.
No hair removal is necessary, neither is makeup. And the best part, my hair care routine would be significantly shortened because apparently, all feminists at my college are required to have the same short haircut and wear it completely devoid of any styling products what so ever.
Instead of being bothered by pesky things like homework, working, paying off my debt and the like, I can concentrate on the important things in life. Like why the cafeteria doesn't have more vegan food, and why men are the cause of all that is bad in the world.
Apparently, because I'm a chick, I should be flying the ovary flag proudly and screaming at the top of my lungs about the patriarchy and why the entire world should revolve around my menstrual cycle.

Why in God's name did I have to pick up a Women's Studies Minor?
Kill me now.

I hate money.
I really do.
I hate money because I don't have it. When I do get it, everyone else wants it.
It really is a sucky deal. I won playing poker the other day...$1,300.
It's already gone.
Pay the rent, get some contacts, groceries and car repair, and you're back in the hole.

Maybe communism isn't such a bad idea.

More later, I'm up to my chunky butt in homework.

The problem with losing weight is that pretty soon your pants stop fitting. So I decided to spend money I don't have in an attempt to find pants that don't fall off of my ass.
I couldn't find any pants, however, after searching through the racks at Gordmans, I found a really cute flowered bra. It's great. Pushes the twins up a little bit and together, without making me look like Pamela Lee before the reduction.
So I take my purchase, and promptly find my spot in the longest line in the history of shopping, in front of a line consisting mostly of obnoxious males and their friends.
I handed my purchase to the oldest living cashier in Iowa, who tries four or five times to scan it. Nothing. She tries to call for a price check over the intercom. "I need a price for a flowered bra, size 36 CC for this young lady". I swear to god, I thought this only happened in movies.
"What size?"
"36 CC!" at this point the man beside me looked at me, and snickered.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing, I just thought they were bigger than that".

This kids, is why someday you are going to find me locked in my apartment with a hundred cats and newspapers dating 20 years ago.

Yea.
I know.
I was supposed to update like, 4 billion years ago.
I finally got a little bit of Chris time, so I suppose my hiatus can end.

Honestly, the reason I haven't been around is that I've been god awful busy.
Because I'm retarded.
I swore I'd never do it again, but I took an internship with kids. Little kids. Kids that are way too young for me to beat and be able to claim self defense.
For the rest of my 'summer' (if you can call it that, I've been taking classes all summer) I get to wake up at the ass crack of dawn and deal with 60, yes, 60 little brats with parents who think that their kids are the best things since sliced bread. I now get to do fun things, like stand outside and wave and cheer at the garbage man, much to the amusement of the fraternity house across the street, while wearing a pink smock and trying to sound excited about 'going potty' and reading 'Miss Moo Goes To The Zoo'.
I am 23 years old (as of yesterday), and I am spending the majority of my summer with people who think it's funny to pick their noses and wipe it on their friends.
Let me clarify.
I am 23 years old and I am spending the majority of my summer with people who are 5 and younger who think it's funny to pick their noses and wipe it on their friends.
Please, please kill me.

I was a little sleepy when I made my last post, and I over looked a few things.
It has been edited, most noticably on #5.

I'm in hell. So this is your update for today.
bite me.

Old relationships suck.
My ex boyfriends don't know the rules, apparently.
There is an unspoken rule. I date you.
You fuck me over.
We break up.
You disappear off of the face of the earth, or go die or something.
I didn't think it was a difficult concept.
So if you are an ex of mine, and have somehow progressed from books with lots of pictures to reading my blog, here's my advice.
1. Stop reading my blog. It's not good for either of us. Eventually, I am going to make a shitty comment about you, most likely regarding the size of your penis, less than stellar ability in the bedroom, or the fact that you have the IQ that rivals only that of Corky on Life Goes On, and honestly I don't want to hear you bitch and moan about it.
2. Stop hanging out with our mutual friends. They like me more. I promise. Yes. Even your best friend. He told me himself.
3. Stop calling me. I'm quickly running out of good excuses to not talk to you and eventually I'm going to have to settle with the truth. The truth being that I'd rather cram steel wool up my twat and run around the block than have to talk to you. If you had something to say you should've said it while we were together.
4. If you see me, keep walking. I can do without that awkward "How are you doing" conversation. I know you don't care, which is a good thing because I don't care either.
5. If for some reason we are within 2 feet of each other, which I will try like hell to avoid, don't even think of touching me. Don't touch my hips, my wrists, anything. Not even a hug, and god forbid you raise a hand to me in anger. You will be killed. Don't touch me. Not even a high five. I will take it as a physical threat, and my boyfriend will proceed to hit you so hard you'll be smiling out of your ass.
6. You can't fix things. Please don't try, you will only embarrass yourself and make me look like more of a bitch.
7. You will not get your black t-shirt/bottle of rum/stuffed bear you can't sleep without back. If it was so important you shouldn't have left it at my apartment.
8. Finally. Just go away. It would make life way easier for all parties involved. You won't look like an ass, and I can have fun without worrying about running in to your sorry behind.

I have lost some weight. Apparently, waking up to work out at the buttcrack of dawn does have its benefits.
I posted the pics of me due to a request from a reader.
So here you go.


I still hate working out.
Torture.

I haven't been posting much. Not much to say. School has been kicking my ass all over the place.
let me tell you, summer classes aren't a joke at my institution of higher learning. The worst part about it are the presentations. I hate them. And I get the most depressing topics. Like the Holocaust. I'm a pretty decent public speaker, but for the love of god. Try lightening the mood when you talk about Auschwitz. It's not possible.
There's really no good way to win over an audience when you discuss the Holocaust.
"Hey! How bout that Hitler!"
Ugh.
Suprisingly, I pulled it off. I actually started a discussion about the Holocaust with a joke. A tasteful joke, but a joke. I rock all over the place.

Random Links For Your Enjoyment
All you ever wanted to know about toliet paper

Gorilla Mask. I just can't get enough of this guy.

The After Party Of the Internets

One of my favorite people ever is back.

This is going to be a short, easy post.
I have an exam tomorrow, 2 books to read, a presentation to bullshit, and a hypothesis to pull out of my ass, on top of 2 papers.
And before you give me some shit about managing my time, I just found out about all of this last night.
So shove it.

Anyway, my parents got a new doggie. A 13 month old shih tzu named Snickers. Apparently her last owner was a worthless chode, so my parents have taken her in. She has taken a liking to my dad, and to my other dog's favorite purple rat. Poor Frankie, she lost her favorite toy.
Anyway, because I have little or no content today, I leave you with a picture of a cute wittle doggie.

If anyone wants to buy me something cuddly, cute and little, be sure to let me know.

My social psych professor decided that he wanted to use the internets as a tool in class. I'm not entirely sure what to make of the concept quite yet. I know it would be a nice god damn mess if my academic life was crossed with my personal life.
That being said, I do have another blog. It's not fun like this one, it's not all that interesting, and it's geared more toward my academic life, and less towards porn, booze and all the other fun stuff that makes the world go round. I think I might keep it up, just for shits and giggles, so you guys don't look at me funny when I discuss what random really looks like, and the idea of subliminal priming on subjective optimization.
Here it is.Read it. Don't read it. I really don't care. If you feel the need to comment, keep it appropriate and remember that respected faculty from my college will be looking at it.

I know it's been awhile. I'm a bad blogger.
This isn't going to be a long post, I went to the dentist today and she chiseled at my precious teeth with little hammers and I kind of want to die. Even the vicodin isn't working.
It's weird around here. Sarah (the heterolifemate, for those of you that have been too drunk/stoned/stupid to pay attention for the past four fucking years) graduated. As did Karl, Adam, Missy, my evil ex roommate, and a bunch of others. So I'm doing well.
Not at all. Sarah and I decided that a good way to bond before her departure was by getting our ears peirced. I cried the entire time. When Dan said "Dont worry, you'll probably never see her again", I almost needed to be carried from the room.
I didn't think it would suck this bad, but it does. I'm up to my ass in summerschool, I miss my heterolifemate, I don't have air conditioning to speak of, and my teeth hurt.
So yea, more later.

I am on strike.
I was going through my comments, and I see:
The Man of your Dreams said...

UPDATE DAMN YOU!
7:06 PM

However, he hasn't updated since March 3rd.
I'm on strike until I get an update, an email or a call.
And I was gonna post pictures of the beercan boat, and the bitching party.

It's finals. I'm far too fucked to recall the bitching party (And by bitching I mean it ended at 6:10 AM).
So until I'm not swamped with shit to do, here's another reason that my friends and I are bad people.
HLM: I stole Veleveta shells and cheese from the hungry.
HLM: I'm so going to hell.
TweekerChickQC: We are in college and broke.
TweekerChickQC: Technically we are the hungry.
HLM: Jimmy yelled at me. I was like I SPENT ALL MY MONEY ON BOOZE YOU DRANK!
HLM: He's like.... carry on...
TweekerchickQC: Gotta love his sense of responsibility.
HLM: He tries to be a good little catholic republican
TweekerChickQC: While allowing his boss to steal from the hungry.
HLM: Like I said, he's a republican.
TweekerChickQC: So if you want to be techincal about it, he's doing a great job.

I was listening to the radio today, for a reason that escapes me.
The travesties released by the music industry pale in comparison to what I heard.
At first I was sure that I had accidentally reprogrammed my station to one that featured 9 year old girls chanting an obnoxious rhyme.
I listened a little closer, and realized, to my horror, that it was none other than Gwen Stefani.
And it sucked.
Gwen. Sweetie. What the fuck happened?
Now, there's a lot of shitty music released every day. However, this shitty music isn't played repeatedly on the radio, TRL, or whatever music channel is cool with the kiddies these days.
You can't escape it. And that is the problem.
Tragic Kingdom wasn't the best album ever released, I'll admit that. But it's a fuckload better than this "Holla back girl".
Why? Because
1) The lyrics are written in English. I have no idea what a 'holla back girl' is, nor do I want to.
2) She sings, as opposed to chanting some incessant chorus about bananas.
3) There was actually music playing the background, opposed to what is apparently a symphony of different cell phone ring tones.
4) The bass player in No Doubt was fucking gorgeous.

At least she's still stylish and cute, right? Even if her music sucks balls?
Wrong. See her last live performance on MTV.
She apparently got dressed in the dark, or pissed off her stylist something wicked.


The only good things associated with Gwen Stefani anymore are her husband (who can still manage to cut a decent album), and the No Doubt's Greatest Hits album, which is probably the band's last ditch attempt to get some cash before they ditch her pathetic, washed up ass. Why would they ditch her, you ask me?
Listen to "Holla Back Girl" and tell me that you'd work with someone who wrote that.

Please Gwen, just stop already.

Hey, I know it's been awhile.
I just wanted to say Happy Birthday to my heterolifemate.
She is getting old now.
I can't say much, or else I'll cry, but I'm really going to miss you.
No one else in the world would dream of wandering drunk at 3 AM to get cookies and milk.
No one else understands the need to drive to Joliet IL at midnight to get White Castle.
No one else finds the newscaster named "Von Hefty" nearly as amusing after 1 1/2 bottles of wine.
No one else would let you puke out my car window and laugh as hard.
No one else in the world would spend an entire day helping me drywall after a drunk friend and I fell through a wall.
No one else would cut that drywall in the Home Depot parking lot with a switchblade to fit it into my teeny tiny car.
No one else would find it funny that the pizza guy snagged a piece.
So on. So forth.
I'm gonna miss you.
Happy Birthday, you are old.

Sorry it's been so long.
I was actually thinking of quitting this thing, but judging by the emails it's just not the time yet.
Anyway, a lot has been going on.
So here is the past month or two of my life, presented in list form.
1. Got broke. Sucked up for my job at GNC back. As a sales associate, none the less. I get paid $5.15 an hour to be treated like shit. I get dick for hours, and am almost literally broke. Best years of my life, my ass.
2. My electricity got shut off for awhile because my landlord is a complete tool and has yet to realize that the notices they send you in the mail asking for money are more than just suggestions. On the 27th, they are shutting off the water. That may also be the day that he is beaten within an inch of his life by an unbathed Clare.
3. I found out that I'm actually going to graduate next year, with a psych major, and a soc and women's studies minor. Yes, women's studies. Somehow, the only thing I needed to take for that as a minor was the seminar. An extra minor for taking one class? Sign me up. However, if I stop shaving my legs and start wearing broom skirts and a lot of brown, please schedule an intervention.
4. I saw Lucky Boys Confusion, again. At Iowa. They stopped letting people in it was so packed. We were some of the last to get in, and we don't even go there. Sorry, guys. The best part of the night was when I went to tell Adam that I liked his shirt. It was Iggy Pop and sorta cool, and I went to say "I like your shirt" And no sooner had I said "Hey, I just wanted to tell you..." Ashley blurts out "Your ass looks GREAT in those pants". Sexually harassing band members? You know she learned that from me.
5. I had coffee tonight with a guy who was cute when he went to school at Augie, but is now gorgeous. I almost suffered a 3rd degree latte burn because I could barely function infront of him.
6. I discovered that there is a boy in one of my classes that I can't look in the face. He is gorgeous. He gave a presentation and stood infront of my desk. Because he's amazingly sexy, I couldn't look him in the face, and instead looked straight ahead. And realized later that because he was standing ahead of me, "straight ahead" was directly at his crotch.
Now, it's where I look automatically. I can't help it.
7. I came across a secret boyfriend who decided that he would only read this if he was mentioned, so there you go Hunny Bunny.

Things seem to be going pretty well, minus the explosion I just heard outside and the fact that Chris never calls me anymore.
Oh, if anyone has any ideas on what I should be doing with my life next year, it would be peachy. Or give me a high paying job. That's always good too.

It never ends.
I just want to curl up somewhere.

Funeral services to Celebrate the Life of Ronald H. "Ronnie" Weedon, 72, a resident of Pleasant Valley, Iowa, will be 10 a.m. Friday, April 15, 2005, in the Grandstands of the Mississippi Valley Fairgrounds, 2815 W. Locust St., Davenport. Burial will be in the National Cemetery, Rock Island Arsenal with military graveside rites conducted by Davenport American Legion Post #26. Visitation will be on Thursday from 3 until 8 p.m. in the Starlight Ballroom at the Fairgrounds.
Ronnie died on Monday, April 11, 2005, at his home following an accident while working on his Dirt Track Racecar.
He was born June 11, 1932, in Davenport, a son of Ronald H. and Virginia R. (Heiser) Weedon. He was united in marriage to Dolores J. "Dee" Clary on December 1, 1960, in Hannibal, Missouri.
He served in the U.S. Army during the Korean conflict.
Ronnie retired in 1995 after 37 years of service for Strieter Motor Company. He had worked in the Body and Fender Department.
He was very active in the local Dirt-Track Racing arenas and had 504-feature race wins over a seven-decade career. Ronnie was a mentor for many young racers and always had time to assist others when somebody would ask for help. Each year local driver's are asked to vote for their pick as the best racer in their respective class and the best local racer overall for the award named for Ronnie, the Weedon Award. Those receiving the once in a lifetime award receive votes from their peers, with each team getting one vote. To read more about his illustrious racing career visit www.ronnieweedon.com. He loved to race and the family time spent at the track. Besides his wife, Dee, you could always count on seeing his faithful companion at the track, his dog Gidget.
Memorials can be made to the family.
Survivors include his wife, Dee; and children, Debbie (Mrs. Ron) Lane, Davenport, Ronnie Weedon, Davenport, Rob (Sandy) Connors, East Moline, Jerry Connors, Pleasant Valley, and Ginnie (Mrs. Rick) Schumann, Davenport; and his beloved seven grandchildren and six great grandchildren.
In addition to his parents, a sister, Eleanor Boley, also preceded him in death.
Online remembrances and condolences may be expressed to the family by visiting Ronnie's obituary at the website of Halligan-McCabe-DeVries Funeral Home, www.hmdfuneralhome.com.
Published in the Quad-City Times on 4/13/2005.

He was a great guy. Took care of every single one of us, and you could always count on Gidget in the middle of the road, welcoming whoever was driving down there.
Here's to the first guy who ever told me my boyfriend was an idiot, and managed to take care of an entire Valley of people. I'll miss you.

This one is hard to deal with. Hung out with him a few times with my sister. Really nice guy.
The guy who hit him almost hit Ashley a few miles before.
It's a fucked up world. It really is.
I'm gonna miss you, sweets.

Aaron M. Perkins
1988 - 2005
Funeral services for Aaron M. Perkins, 17, of Bettendorf, will be 1 p.m. Wednesday, April 13, at the Asbury United Methodist Church in Bettendorf. Burial will follow at Pleasant Valley Cemetery, Pleasant Valley, Iowa. The family will greet friends today from 3 to 7 p.m. at Cunnick-Collins Mortuary in Davenport. Aaron died on Friday, April 8, 2005, from injuries received in an automobile accident in Bettendorf.
Aaron Michael Perkins was born April 8, 1988, to Richard and Patricia (Vick) Perkins in Louisville, Ky. He currently was attending Pleasant Valley High School, where he was a junior, and worked as a cashier and bagger at the Middle Road Hy-Vee Food Store. His circle of friends was everything to him.
Survivors include his parents, Rick and Patti Perkins, of Bettendorf; his sister, Lauren Perkins, also of Bettendorf; maternal grandparents, Jim and Ann Vick, of Louisville, Ky.; and his paternal grandparents, Robert and Helen Perkins, of Radcliff, Ky.
A memorial fund has been established in Aaron's name at the Quad-City Bank and Trust Company, Bettendorf.
Published in the Quad-City Times on 4/12/2005.

My heterolifemate, ladies and gentlemen.
HLM: At least I made it through class today without playing with myself
TweekerChickQC: It's the little victories.
HLM: It was hard. I got kinda bored.

I did it again.
Last night was great, but I just can't keep myself out of trouble.
Swizzle Tree and Lucky Boys Confusion played one hell of a fucking show, as usual. Amazing.
And all of my loyal readers owe my friend Honeyman a big thankyou. There was a moshpit, and a red headed douche bag continued to shake sweat on everyone. Fine. That's bad etiquette even for a moshpit and fucking gross, but fine. But when that douchebag came out of the pit swinging his hands and elbows everywhere and proceeded to hit my little sister in the face I lost my temper.I mean really. She's 90 pounds. And she wasn't in the pit, so there's no need for that shit. I was halfway through my swing in a punch his mother was going to feel when all the sudden I feel my arms jerked back behind me. All I really heard was "CLARE!". Somehow Honeyman, who was in front of me, was behind me, holding me from beating the everloving shit out of this smelly redhead kid, and most likely from being incarcerated. So smelly red head kid, if you are reading this, you owe that boy a thankyou. Honeyman definitely earned some cool points for catching me, I'm not sure anyone else woulda thought about it.
Even more amazing that I managed to find myself mingling with band members, as usual. Ashley had to leave early to work, and I just wasn't having it.
However, even Stubhy from LBC couldn't stop her. Which was sad.
However, I got to chill with his brother, the lead singer of Swizzle Tree, and I can say honestly that he's one of the coolest people I've had the pleasure of kicking it with in a long time.
We took a very blurry picture together. (We were both drinking. It took both of us awhile to figure out how to work my camera phone) in which he had to stoop down because my arms were too short to get us both in the picture, and he was sweet as hell about giving me a CD. Did I mention that he's gorgeous?
You may ask yourself, how does this crazy ho get to meet everyone.
Simple.
I asked him if I could rub his head. It was shaved. He said yes, and really once you've crossed that threshold, there's no turning back.
Things I learned last night:
There is actually someone else in my school that likes scotch.
Rock stars are hot.
Indian rock stars are hotter.
I have an odd talent for meeting people.
And finally, I learned that Honeyman can fly.

Anyway. Check out Swizzle Tree and Lucky Boys Confusion, buy their music, and see their shows.
I'm gonna go ice down my bruises.

I got guilt tripped
Seriously.
(in more ways than one).
I'm drunk. Its 4:32 AM
I just saw Swizzle Tree and LBC.
Great show, hung ou twith Stuby and his hbrother, Saarang.
Then I chilled with entirely too many frat boys, including Charles and Honeyman.
My bar is now empty, but any night that involves drinking games and someone I know falling asleep in a bed with 2 girls rocks.

Details later.

Ok.
About the comments.

Tell me who you are. That shit drives me crazy. The only one who ever left any random comments was Chris, and I always knew it.
Let's keep it that way, or you really won't like my next post.

My comments are fixed, people. Use them. I like to get feedback. It lets me sleep better at night.

Anyway. It's the day after Valentines Day. I didn't gorge myself on chocolate. I didn't get drunk and I sure as fuck didn't get any flowers. Way to go, guys, what do I keep you around for, anyway?
Next year, here is an itemized list of what I want.
1) Chocolate. Mint meltaways from Fannie Mae, to be specific. And anything Godiva.
2) Beer. Bud light. Bottles. Yes, I know it's piss water, but I like it.
3) Chris. He still owes me drunk time. (And before I get 4 billion emails about how I'm a slut, I'd like to point out that it's not like that. He's my buddy. He owes me drunk time. It's not like I asked to see him in the nude).
4) Fight Club, Donnie Darko, Garden State and both Resident Evils. Nothing says love like shooting a gun at your invisible friend, having a jet engine fall into your bedroom (ever seen the deleted impalement scene? Wicked), having "balls" written on your forehead and having to kill zombies while wearing sexy boots. It's how I want to spend MY holiday, thankyouverymuch.
5) Chris naked. (I hadn't thought of it before #3, but in retrospect it's really not such a bad idea).
6) No classes. Really. I want to be able to sleep in the day after Valentine's Day. It benefits everyone. Those assholes who actually got some can get some actual sleep, and it gives the rest of us time to sober up.
7) Someone to tell me that it's alright to sluff around in my jammies all day and hate anyone who's in love who isn't me.
8) Jammies that have the feet on the bottom. Those things fucking rock.
9) Someone to bring me a Lou Malnaties or Little Italian Pizza, in the nude. (Refer to #5).

That's all for now. So make with the flowers and candies, bitches.

Steak and a Blow Job Day

Fuck V Day

Until the Violence Stops

Top 10 Reasons Valentines Day Still Sucks

Careful what you wish for.

Zero Compliance: When I got my first tattoo I told everybody about it, and these girls came up to me and asked to see it when I was out with Stacy.
Zero Compliance: So of course, down my pants went.
TweekerChickQC: Where the hell is your tattoo?
Zero Compliance: On my shoulder.
Zero Compliance: She got pissed.

It's been a very very busy week or so on this end.
However, I had to stop cleaning my aparment (impending Mom visit) to wish Chris a happy birthday.
Am I few days late? Probably.
Regardless.
Chris is the one guy who I've loved to death over the years, has really never made me too angry, and actually taught me how to have a little fun.
Now, if he'd only stop and visit me once in awhile, I'd be happy.
Regardless, Happy Birthday to one of the best friends a girl could ask for.
And here's your present from me.


Don't say I never give you anything.

I know it's been awhile. It's been a rough week or so.
As soon as I got back into town, I got news that my friend Ed died.
To be totally honest, I've taken news better.
A whole lot better.
He was my boy. Sometimes I swear he was the only reason I didn't off myself a kid or two at work. (Had I seen this I may have been a nicer employee).
A day just wasn't the same without him looking at me, wearing that stupid white t-shirt that went past his knees, saying "Hi babygirl" and playing with one of my favorite rings, telling me that someday he was gonna be a baller like his Clarissa.
It's actually a miracle we even got to see him, we were so late that the wake was over entirely when we got there. The receptionist at the funeral home let us in anyway (and we appriciate it, and I think she scored some extra points with god).
I couldn't help myself, and I slipped that ring (the one with 2 diamonds in it) into his coat pocket.
I miss you Ed.

Anyway, I've got assloads of stuff to make up and this term is just winding down, so I promise nothing, unless one of you wants to do my homework.
Anyway, here are some links to keep you occupied so you get off of my ass.


The girl from the GoDaddy.com commerical, buck ass naked.
Jessica Simpson is a fat, spoiled dog.
The Scrotal Safety Commission
Every Nintendo game your geeky heart could desire.
How to drink like a real college student.
That's one hell of a human error.
I'm all for god, but when you bring Sir Mix Alot into things, you've gone too far. This makes baby jesus, and big ass fans alike, cry.

Ever get that feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong?
I had that today.
I thought, maybe it's just test anxiety.
Maybe, I thought, I'm just stressed out.
Bad coffee?

I was settling into my religion class when I started feeling overwhelmingly anxious. I'm not Dionne Warwick, but something in the universe was just off.
I noticed that my cell phone was blinking.
Constantly.
Every 10 minutes, my cell phone was going off.

Now if that's not a bad sign, I don't know what is.
I got up, in the middle of class (which I never ever do, so Prof. Burke, if you're reading this, I am sorry) and went to see just what the fuck was going on.

Here's where the story gets good.

My sister was driving today and some drunk mother fucker hit her car.
Hard.
Fucked it up.

First of all, that's the only twin sister I have. So this didn't leave me happy.
Second of all, what kind of fucking backwards hick mother fucker is shitfaced at three in the afternoon?
Third, what kind of tool drives, shitfaced, without a liscense or insurance?

I'll tell you what kind of person.
A worthless peice of horseshit with no regard for anyone but themselves. Let me spell this out for you, asshat.
You could've killed someone.
You're lucky you didn't.
Now you have fun in that cell for awhile and you tell your new boyfriend that I send my regards.

It was under the advice of an enviornmentalist that the two girls embarked on their journey that night. He was a wise man, knowledgeable in many things, including the conservation of grapes. He sat on the couch, smiling at them, and in his infinite wisdom said "I think you should go".

The enviornmentalist was never wrong, having spent much of his time partaking in spiritual activities such as sampling the juice of fermented grapes, neither girl was in a position to argue with him. The enviornmentalist then turned on his heel and left to go tend to his daily routine.

Sarah and Clare then looked at each other and headed to the car. They had a long journey ahead of them that neither was prepared for. It was cold, the wind was bitter, and it was getting colder as the minutes passed. They sat side by side, quietly contemplating the ramifications of the journey that lay ahead of them.

It would be long. It would be tiring. It would be scary.
And both were up for the challenge.

Beside each other in the car, the minutes dragged like hours, hours seemed to go on for eternities. The miles crept by, and at one point Clare thought she saw a little old lady pass them with her walker.

They went on. The radio cut in and out, the music got increasingly bad, but they pressed on. Nothing was going to stop them.

The wind was blowing harder now as they pulled over to take a break. Behind the glass at the gas station, a prophet, probably named Edna, sat, smoking a Marlboro Red, glaring at the rack of twinkies.
Edna exhaled, a long stream of grey smoke pouring from her wrinkled mouth.
"Joliet" is all she said.
The girls silently got back into the vehicle.

"Well?" Clare asked. She was tired, her eyes were starting to get dry, and her ass had fallen asleep 10 mile markers ago.
"We've come too far to turn back now" Sarah said, with what one can assume was the last bit of energy she had.

They continued on, an eternity later, pulling off onto the Joliet exit.
The roads were dark, and scary, and both girls had a hard time remembering that looking at other people's cars at stoplights was strictly a custom from their homeland, not this foreign place.
The road was endless. Mile after mile of car lot, gas station and strip malls was wearing on both of our protagonists.
They were almost at the end of the road.
And so far, nothing.
Not a single thing.
Were both the prophet and enviornmentalist wrong?
And there, in the distance, they saw it.
It called to them both.
Shining in bright contrast against the sky, it stood, waiting for them.
And it was beautiful.


"We need 20 sliders, 2 fries, and 2 medium sodas".
The girls ate until they could not eat anymore.
The prophet and enviornmentalist were right.
It was a hard, long, tiring journey.
Upon return both girls fell into their beds, stomachs full of the greasiest, most disgusting hamburgers in all of creation.
And they enjoyed every bite.
Some people say it's silly. Other's say we are too influence by the media. Clare and Sarah, however, are simply biding their time until their next epic journey.

An amazing story is on it's way.
Until then, bugger off.

So.
I was dumb. I did a dumb thing.
I let my best friend "stay here a few nights".
With his pitbull, who is adorable.
The problem?
He's still here.
I'm feeling spread pretty fucking thin, and now I get to babysit for a 21 year old and his dog.
I'm broke as shit, I've got 200 pages of religion to study by tomorrow so I don't flunk out, and I'm busy cleaning up after the two of them. For the past three days.
I'm about to go insane.
I've got laundry piled up the ceiling in my bathroom that I don't have time to do.
I feel like my head is going to explode. I actually skipped my classes today to try to get a head start on things.
What did I wind up doing?
Babysitting the 21 year old and the fucking dog.
I am not about to let anyone fuck up my education.
Now's the problem.
He has nowhere to go, and he's my best friend.
Which leaves me in a hell of a spot. Say "Get the fuck out and take your dog that barfed on my rug and find somewhere else to stay, like anyone will take you" or go completely insane, risk being evicted for the animal living here, and probably fail the fuck out of college.
Every time I clean, I turn around and there's a mess.
Every time I vacuum, I turn around and there's more dog fur.
Every time I try to sleep, I get "Wanna watch Harold and Kumar?"
Every time I try to study, I field questions about "What's wrong".

What I need, what I really truly need, is a prescription for Zanax, a pound of fudge, and a 12 pack of beer to drink with Chris.

So, I was sifting through the list of referrers to my little corner of the web here (it beats the fuck out of studying, so shut up), and I've come to the conclusion that you are all a bunch of perverts.
The 5 latest searches that lead to website are as follows:
"Oprah Tossed Salad"
"Gay Tweeker Sex"
"Bitch and Bongs"
"Dirty Bitch Assing"
"Kaustubh Pandav Naked"
And whoever found my site looking for that last one, email me, you are living the dream.

Not much else is going on the life of Clare. Back to school, back to the same old shit. I have 2 huge tests coming up this next week. Massively huge. So instead of studying, I present you with some of my tips for studying.
1.Find a clean, well lit place to study. This requires actually cleaning your house. You will be up until 3 or 4 A.M. doing this.
2.Munchie food is a gift from god. Begin studying. Realize, 3 paragraphs in, that you are lacking Doritos, which are imperative to getting a decent grade. Run to the store. Sit down to study. Realize that you forgot Twizzlers, and you must have Twizzlers. Run to the store again. Do this at least 4 more times.
3.Find comfortable clothes. This means, most likely, jammies. Shit, while you're in them, you might as well take a nap, you know, so you can focus.
4.Sit in front of your computer to help aid in whatever you're reading. Discuss current events, alcoholic beverages, and random other shit with your friends on AIM.
5.Put up an away message lamenting the fact that you have to study and can't talk.
6.Vow to begin right after you check F.U.B.A.R. one last time.
7.Begin studying.
8.Take a nap.
9.Wake up 2 hours before test, and try cramming 4 weeks worth of knowledge in to your brain in that amount of time.
10. Drink the pain away.

This, my friends, is what I will be doing tonight. Hooray college.
Here's some links to look at till next time.
Too Beautiful
Soapbox Network
Erection Warning Chart
Cooking with Cum
How To Argue With A Female
AIM Commandments
The Best Bud Light commercials EVER.