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Should I care that none of this makes any sense? [Jun. 14th, 2007|06:42 am]
[Current Mood |restlessrestless]
[Current Music |A cool acustic cover of Hey Ya]

Okay, so I'm no longer engaged. We had a good run, I suppose. 13 months living together. Granted, she's batshit crazy and. . ."young" to say the least. Not to imply that I'm a pedophile or something, just that I no longer find stealing street signs to be enthralling. I'm alright. I have good friends around me. Good friends who plan on getting me shitfaced on my B-day (Sunday), and, no, I don't feel like disclosing my impending age. Geez. When did I morph into a throwaway joke in a Lifetime original movie?
Anyway. The whole break made no sense, and blahblahblah, just buy me something on Sunday, can I please go to bed now, are we out of beer, does anyone know a single lesbian who has read more than 2 books in her life, I need a social weed wacker, sleep deprivation.
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(no subject) [Feb. 24th, 2007|05:23 pm]
"I don't know her, so maybe she's a complete nightmare and likes to wash her dishes with bourbon and eats nails and uses kittens to scrub the bathroom floor. I don't know her life." ~Heather

I don't know. it just made me laugh for 4 or so minutes.
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(no subject) [Nov. 18th, 2006|11:58 am]
Scene: This morning. My kitchen.
L: So how was the movie?
A: It had nothing to do with penguins, and everything to do with breast cancer.
L: . . .
A: I think I might have accidentally took some tabs before I went.
L: . . .
A: Shut-up


Have I mentioned that I'm engaged? 'Cus. . .yeah.
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All gone [Oct. 21st, 2006|12:10 pm]
[Current Mood |blahblah]
[Current Music |my stoache growling]

Scene: Afternoon. My Kitchen.
L: Um. . .who ate my taco?
Z: Guess.
L: Arrgg. Again?
J: Heh. Should have known bet-
L: Well, now I can guess where my keys went to.
Z: And the last cookie.
J: And Amelia Earhart.
L: And The Scream.
J: I think they found that.
L: I'm just making a point here.

Seriously, will someone buy me a mini-fridge?
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I need to do laundry [Oct. 16th, 2006|12:08 pm]
[Current Music |Z.'s lame mix CD]

So, it’s our 5 month anniversary. Question: Am I obligated to buy/make her something, or should I hold off for the ½ year mark? I ask because this is the longest I’ve been in a relationship. And we’ve been living together for. . .41/2 months (that’s right, bitches. I move fast) so I’m not really sure what the protocol is. Comments? Suggestions?
Ah well. I’ll just buy her flowers or a lottery ticket. Depends how much I have in my wallet. I don’t want to be part of a cheesy couple who celebrates every single month, but she is taking me out to dinner. . .
In other news, I’m headed back to Philly this weekend to retrieve a small, small man. Every time I agree to take this trip with J., we get lost in the GHETTO of N. Philly,(really, every other row house is dilapidated, burned the fuck down or infested with crack heads) so, once again, if noone is to see me in the next 8 days, CALL SOMEONE.
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(no subject) [Aug. 4th, 2006|04:20 pm]
My neighbors must think that all of us are completely insane, or that we're serial killers that the D.A. of Charlottesville hasn't gotten around to prosecute.
This morning yet another officer knocked on the door to issue a subpoena. That would make it 5 or 6 times in the 2 months we've lived here.
This time it was for me.
They found Crazy Allan Who I Pressed Charges On, it seems. Okay, great. But evidently myself and James failed to show-up at his hearing. Why didn't we show-up? Because the clerk is incompetent and neglected to send us any information on the matter. Bleh.
At first I was really confused about the whole thing, so I called the number the cop had scribbled on my subpoena,. I left a message and waited. Cut to 4 hours later, and my phone rings.
I have a new cell phone, and I'm not really sure how everything works on it. Someone has been phone-stalking me as of late, so that particular number is labeled under "restricted".
Anyway, to cut to the point, my phone rang, it said "restricted", I got mad, answered, said, "What the FUCK do you want!?".
Yeeeeaah. Turns out it was my lawyer. Smooth, liz. Smooth.
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dhgd [Jul. 25th, 2006|02:28 pm]
"During her acceptance speech, Goregian told the crowd, "Maybe beauty is the final step to end violence and preach world peace after all." The Iraqis who disagree have forced her to give up her crown and flee her country." - ABC News
I dont know. . .it just made me laugh.
Um, also, I think Laura is trying to kill me.
No. Really.
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BTW. . .Happy B-Day, Bro! [Jun. 7th, 2006|02:45 pm]
[Current Music |Bravo reality show]

It's been roughly a year since I moved back to
C-ville. And it's..
Hold on, that's. . .the chief of police. . . who is
currently on the Bravo show "My Life on the the
D-List." And, wow, is he hitting on Kathy Griffin?
Alright, anyway. . .that was just jarring.
Back to my entry.
So yeah, it's been an interesting year, I suppose. I
loved living with B. My classes were fine. Living with
BGB was silly, but in a good way. Living with J. and
The Captain was bfidhgref. Living with Allan resulted
in the police being called more than once. My summer
classes are neat. My new townhouse is great. Love me
(as always) some Capt-Z, and T. seems like a nice guy.
I love my girlfriend. And-
Dude, he is SO hitting on Kathy Griffin.
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That's it. NOW I am going to press charges for assault [May. 11th, 2006|02:12 pm]
[Current Mood |enragedenraged]
[Current Music |Augustana ~ Boston (I'm hoping it'll calm me. Not working)]

All hell broke out at my apt. a couple nights ago. I was attacked, the police were called, the assailant was dragged away. . .Okay, granted, the three of us should have realized that he was batshit crazy before we permitted him to move in. There were signs. We noticed, our friends noticed, our girlfriends noticed. . .but he could make rent, that's all we really cared about. Just because you happend to enter the same threshold when you come home doesn't necessarily mean that you have to interact with one another, right?
Anyway, back to real-time.
J. just called, and at this exact moment the popo's are at our place (I'm currently at my parents house, pretending to garden) because BATSHITCRAZYIFYOUTOUCHMEAGAINIWILLKILLYOU Alan called them for breaking and entering.
DUDE. You do not really live there. You never did. You are not on the lease. Yes, we had to get into the room, OUR ROOM, and you know fucking well why.
ARRRRGGGH. J. just called back. Apparently the landlord is still there, changing the locks, and witnessing this whole ordeal.
I am so going to be homeless.
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"We've got a brand new dance. . ." [May. 3rd, 2006|07:59 pm]
[Current Mood |aggravatedaggravated]
[Current Music |PVCC library noise]

So, yeah. Day three of the new townhouse. We've already had to call the Lord of the Land four times due to pluming issues, but, whatever. He's a nice guy. He shows up five minutes after we call, and promptly fixes the problem. None of us as unpacked fully, so the living room and kitchen look like ground-zero at the moment. That will change come Friday. Promise.
As for the old apartment that I and 1,299,000 other people occupied. . .Yeaaah. I might be headed for jail. He (old Lord of the Land, who from here on out shall be referred to as Asshat) is evidently hell-bent on taking me to court for destruction of private property.
And now, an open letter. . .
Dear Asshat,
True, my name was on the lease. True, I should have found a respectable UVA student to replace Bricey when she moved out. True, the majority of my friends are complete asshats (you can relate, I know you can). But do NOT threaten me. You are keeping your security deposit, so shut the fuck up. Do not jot down my friends license plate numbers. Do not threaten my friends who are simply helping me pack. Do not pretend that you were "going to issue a warrant for (my) arrest" because, Assat, the law doesn't work like that.
Yes, I will pay for the damage that occurred while I was either asleep or not home. Done and done.
Just stop being a dick.

I think some court-related bullshit is sitting in the main branch of the postal service. I received one of those yellow papers, telling to come pick something up. . . something sent by my ex Lord of the Land.
Fuckin' Asshat
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