Mark Twain

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.


Dorothy Parker

Ducking for apples - change one letter and it's the story of my life.


Bertrand Russell

There is much pleasure to be gained from useless knowledge.

Happy, happy, ass-less


2004-11-22 at 10:56 a.m.

Aren't all chaps ass-less? And if that is so, isn't calling them 'ass-less' chaps a bit redundant or perhaps a misnomer?

Lord, this is why I shouldn't put off assignments until the last minute. I've been up all night writing a paper and now I've gone retarded and I have to go to work. And I'll spend all day in a haze, wondering about ass-less chaps.

I just can't pull all-nighters like I used to. In my youth, (haw haw) I could stay up all night, write an ass-kicking paper, then take a shower, get dressed and go to class, no problem. Nary a thought of anything ass-less in sight. I was down right functional. Of course, my breakfasts back then consisted of a No-Doze and some Coke. (Coca-Cola, people!)

This journal entry probably doesn't seem all that non-functional to you, but keep in mind that I've been writing for about ten minutes and I've had some time to correct all my typos. My origial entry looked something like this:

ljrghugfiuerkjnbdfgkjbldfgkurethfdglk;dfgkldfgkjndf
dskjsdgjdrguhjdfglkdfgkifdklndfgkdriu';lsdf ,.xckjhdflkjdfhoiuer[klpdrgmldfg;lsleepsleepsleepsleep

Right on. Lord, I feel sorry for all the people who are going to encounter me today.


On a happier note, I'm leaving for L.A. on the morrow to begin my Thanksgiving holiday with the family. Of course, last year, about fifteen minutes before T-day dinner was served, Special K called to tell me my cat was dead. Let's hope no one or nothing dies this holiday season.

I've spent 2004 relatively free of angst/nervous breakdowns/depression, with the exception of my meltdown around New Year's, which I don't think I mentioned much in this journal.

Who wants to read about five-hour long crying jags and crippling anxiety attacks? Not me, no sir.

For some wierd-ass reason, I always freak out over the holiday season. Usually around November. Who knows why? I used to have yearly anxiety attacks around X-mas because I believed the world would end in 2000 and therefore, every New Year's was a year closer to armageddon. Jesus, I was one f'd up little puppy.

Now, I need no reason for a melt-down, although life has been awfully good about providing me with extra reasons to flip out around the holidays. Dead cats, financial woes, dying relatives, problems at work, school problems, friends leaving, life inexorably changing, etc.

So far, I'm fine. I've had a few close calls, but after living with this disease all my life, I've learned the warning signs and generally, if I follow a specific prescription of avoidance of all unhappy thoughts and lots and lots of distraction involving mindless television and books, I'm fine.

It would be novel indeed if I made it through the holiday season without locking myself in a dark room and flipping out. Ho ho hooooo, I say.

Did I say this was a happier note? I lied.


Ho ho Currents...

Currently Reading...
Mr. Darcy Takes A Wife, the smutty sequel to Pride and Prejudice. Go, Mr. Darcy, you sex fiend, gooo!

Currently Hearing...
Weepy Brit-pop of the Keane persuasion. I should listen to something jollier, just to hedge my bets. Maybe cats being tortured into yowling X-mas carols.

Currently Watching...
I dunno...is it happy?




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