Monday, April 19, 2004

Is it just me or has my life gotten even more boring?

I'm planning on writing for the Spec. next week concerning my participation in the Model UN at the University of Toronto. Then it's off to interviewing kooky characters for my weekly column. Please, please, please, I need a goddamn cultist! Where did they all go? I remember a time when everyone belonged to something. The Galactic Tribal Lunar Beams. The Mystical Cloud People of Nazareed. Madonnabes.

Times have changed.

Read the paper today about some guy who survived a 5 tumble car accident but was killed by a southbound car when he walked away to get help. Talk about life imitating art that wasn't art to begin with (read: Final Destination.)

Tall and handsome boy I saw, make him my own booty call. Too bad he smokes the ganja, but who doesn't nowadays? He's got all the fine qualities in one who provides booty: breathes and bones.

I'm joking, of course *eyes dart.*

I must also remember I have a personal vandetta against Dior Boy. I keep forgetting this grudge exists. Oh no, he does not deserve to be treated cordially. Wrapped around his finger, my ass! He should go wrap his mouth around a ... Benny Hill-a-like.

Arrogant fucker!

Yet, oddly enough, I still like his shirt.

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