In The Zone

You know what I hate about cds?

When they don’t have lyrics in the their liner notes.

I swear this overpublicizing thing for Britney has some sort of subliminal message to buy her goddamned cd. I sort of turn on autopilot and head to Tower Records.

Must buy crappy cd, must buy crappy cd, must buy crappy cd.

I hold my new “In the Zone” cd and every now and then, I’ll look up in confusion–then I’m back “In the Zone” with Britney.

So, this new song she did, with Madonna. I was really looking forward to singing the fast part–because all I say when I sing (very badly, mind you) in the car is blahblahblahblahblahblah in the zone, you wanna get in the zone. I swear, if you were to lower the volume in my car while I was singing this song, I would probably be speaking Gaelic or Timbuktu (wait, isn’t Timbuktu or Timbucktoo called something else now?). I might even be doing the mating call to siamese cats.

Regardless, part of my goal in buying this cd was to find out WHAT THE FUCK SHE IS SAYING ABOUT BEING IN THE ZONE.

Ah, Britney. I simulataneously (I have this feeling towards many other people) hate you and love you. I secretly want to be you. Except for cheating on Justin. What the FUCK were you thinking? At LEAST you could’ve made it a threesome. Then you would’ve REALLY been in the zone.

I am telling my bosses tomorrow that I’m quitting. I’m nervous. I hope they don’t slap me to…Timbukto, Timbuck fucking three (however you spell it) or the artist formerly known as Timbucktoo/two/to.

I read two fucking diaries tonight to review. I usually read diaries rather fast but writing about them is another story. Where are all the good fucking diaries? I want to a diary to move me. I want a diary to make me fucking want to…I don’t know, get me in the zone.

Goddamn you Britney.

I was IMed up the wazoo today because I have been MIA. Mostly by my California people who swear they haven’t seen me in months. It made me feel loved. Someone who wants to win a Nobel Peace Prize should work on beaming people so I can have these people visit me anytime.

Apparently, 8000 people are going to visit me in Boston. Oh god, just wait till my roommates see my “Californian” tendencies come out. It’s sort of like an accent, the explicit vernaclar just sort of comes out of nowhere. Tyler and I were talking today and we just kept saying “totally” and “yo” and “West Coast Represent!” in every other sentence.

I have this terrible habit of making fun of silly slang and then end up overutilizing it until it’s a permanent part of my vocabulary. I’m going to pick a new word, a weird word, and try to get all my roomies to say it.

Lisanator misses me. That poor girl. It must be hard to be without the fun-filled conversations and equally bad SCII partner. I’m jealous, she played or Josh, her man, played the Weapon Master version and now there’s this new character called Cervantes.

I just noted that the aforementioned paragraph was the dorkiest paragraph ever.

I wonder if my overexposure to my roomies will make me the biggest dork ever.

My new favorite diary is John’s. (I also like this diary because, goddamn, I’ve got good taste) No, not Kerbang but another one who talks extensively or I should say, chastises me extensively online. Hmm.. I should do an entry on online people. Next time.

Anyway, John requested that we make mixed cds for each other. I am totally stoked. My cd is going to be so badass that he is going to want to fly his ass out here and become my sex slave.

Speaking of sex slave, I will not have one anytime soon. I gained about 50 gazillion pounds flying from the east coast to the west coast. How many calories are in those damned peanuts? It could be the California thing or the fact that every pound in the California metric system is actually 10 pounds. I am literally 300 pounds in California metrics.

I wish I had cornrows. Okay, not really. I don’t know why I said that.