Minimal Effort

So John Kerry in the New Hampshire [NH for short] primary beat out Howard Dean by approximately 12 points or so. I would think that is a significant lead, correct?

Hypothetically, if John Kerry beat out Howard Dean by say 2 or 3 points, I would hardly say he REALLY beat out Howard Dean because Dean is so close to dethrone him, correct? 2 or 3 points could be a margin of error.

Hence, if kerbang.diaryland.com were to beat out myself in Boggle by a mere three points [50 to 53]..does that warrant him to declare the official apartment Boggle champion?

I think not.

A champion would have BLOWN the competition away, not merely luck out by the word “maw”–which he said was married to his “paw”. C’mon now.

Then again, I tried to get away with Noir [as in film noir] and Risa tried Feng [as in feng shui] and kerbang.diaryland.com tried aeon [as in aeon flux].

If anything, it was an exhibition game.

Kerbang and I went to watch “Paycheck” but because we are directionally handicapped, we got to the movie theater 25 minutes late.

So, instead, we went to the mall.

And Kerbang cheated on the movie [i think we might watch it tomorrow–we don’t want TOO much excitement in one day, do we?] by reading the short story that “Paycheck” was based on and told me the ending. Hmm…I wonder how off it is from the actual short story [the story was written by the same guy who wrote Minority Report]

Then, I guess, we decided to go clothes shopping and Kerbang wanted uh-oh, my opinion.

So utilizing my California stylish prowess, I picked out some badass clothing.

It looked so hot, I couldn’t look at him directly. I was like, “ahhh! it’s too much! take off the clothes!” hee hee hee. “You need to transform back to normal.” And then there he was, from[probably his first pair of jeans in a decade] casual stylish adult back to kerbang-the-dorky-video-game-player.

His friends are totally going to make fun of him and his new stylin’ threads.

They’re going to be so jealous. Tee hee. [I would love to dress up his friends as well. And then, it’ll be like, oh god, a video game playing boy band]

This is what happens when you have too much time on your collective hands.

Okay, so I am home ALL THE TIME. Essentially, as you are probably aware, I’m waiting to hear from a job. I emailed them and they said they were “very interested” and were giving job offers through “paperwork” which I ‘may or may not get’. GREAT.

I’m half tempted just to screw it and get something else. But it’s one of those things where you’ve been waiting in line so long, you might as well wait it out until the end.

Since I am a broke ass, I usually stay home all day surfing the internet or watching television. It’s amazing how I am not 3 trillion pounds.

Speaking of trillion, can you NAME a trillion of something? Like, there are 2 trillion ways to say I love you. Or 3 trillion Starbucks in the world. I think trillion is a made up number.

I got an email from a friend of mine asking me why the State of the Union address pissed me off. I mean, really, do we REALLY want to have this guy for another four years? Furthermore, if you watched the Daily Show last night, they showed the State of the Union addys from last year and the year before—and Stephen Colbert’s question was “Hey, what happened? He never did any of that stuff and he never mentions it again” I think Stephen Colbert’s argument was “If you’re going to give us promises you aren’t going to keep, you might as well make them exciting and dramatic.” Good point, Steve.

Anyway, I digress. As you know, there are FOUR diaries in this house. Four. [I don’t think Ready has one]. You’ve got the multi-media empire that is Gumphood , the red and black [hmmm…you’d think this was Risa’s diary] intermittent diarist that is Kerbang , you’ve got our hot chick Risa [sorry, it’s locked, but she has some public entries you can peruse], and Me.

However, we all talk about each other in our diaries. Risa, talks about mostly me and Gumphood [and Gumphood’s blue ball] in hers, Gump gives a a brief synopsis of each individual roommate, Kerbang compares us to a crew on a pirate ship, and Risa is currently working on a Roommate Series of her own. [I love what she calls Kerbang and Ready in hers, heh heh heh]…and of course, I’ve done my own “roommate series”

Wow, we can be obsessed can we?

Well, if you’ve been keeping up or whatever, you’d probably want to be slaving over a hot monkey brain.

Oops. Sorry, I’m watching Futurama.

Okay, what was I saying? Oh yeah, so in honor of our egocentric obsessiveness of ourselves [heh heh heh], check out the roommate survey action— where you can guess who is what and where is who and who said what and how it was said to whom.

Whatever. It might be boring or it might be fun. You decide. Plus, I wanted to know who you guys thought was the gassy roommate [in this roommate’s defense, “this is an aberration!”]

Okay, I’m going to go hang with my roommates now. [just kidding, nobody is home. I’m a loser]

Four more days until I go insane.

my father called me today. I afraid to call him back. He is going to yell at me and tell me that I am a fuck up.

oh well, might as well face the music.

So I called my dad..and he wasn’t mad at all. He actually sounded very concerned.

He asked me how I was and I said “I could be better, this sort of sucks.” and he said that he and my mother were very worried about me and my situation. So worried, my mom paid for all my bills and wrote me a letter.

Wow.

I don’t think I loved or respected my parents more than ever than now. I mean, I was having doubts about the whole film thing and they seem to understand that I’m trying to get my shit together.

And I am trying to get my shit together.

And one day, I will make them proud, I know it.

Yeah, so the weekend without the boys was actually quite fun.

Ready was out with his high school girlfriend all weekend, so our bathroom was clean majority of the weekend.

Kerbang and Gumphood went and did a surprise visit for Dinguspie. Hence, mostly the house was just Risa and I.

And we partied.

Oh, did we party.

We ended up drinking three bottles of wine [hence, my previous drunk post] and watching …hmm…what were we watching? I forget. Something. I think it was television or something.

I can’t believe I forgot. Was it a movie? I think we watched a movie. No, I think we watched television. Whatever, catch-23 argument.

Anyway, so here are the aftereffects:

or how about this nice number? [this is still the common room]

if you look in the corner, you can see my bra. Heh heh heh. [yeah, I don’t know how it ended up there either]

Regardless, Risa and I spent the wee hours [we finally passed out around 5am] talking and bitching about life and noticing how nice-smelling the house was without all the gas combustion. The nice smells was short-lived though when a certain roommate [Roommate A] came back the next evening and warned that he would fart by saying ‘safety!’ [yeah, I don’t know what that means either].

Anyway, so Risa and I pass out and wake up around 11am [for some reason, when I am drunk the night before, I don’t sleep very long. I can only get in a couple of winks] and we decide that hells yeah, we’re going to P.F. Chang’s.

Our ride, of course, was less than ordinary.

Further, it was documented.

This is Risa rocking out to the new 311 cd she bought.

This is me celebrating that our house smells good.

This is Risa looking exotic and skilled with her, um, chopsticks skills.

This is showing my LACK of skills by using a spoon—if you want to be stabbed in the eye accidentally, just give me chopsticks. Somehow, Murphy’s Law is exponentially potent with me: I will stab my chicken [so it will be a shish-ka-chopstick-chicken], the chopsticks will fly up and upon it’s gravitational pull back to earth, it will stab you in the eye. OR, if you’re looking up in awe of the airborne stick, it will go down through your nose, stab your brain and give you a quarter frontal lobotomy. Wow, that was an elaborate scenario.

The PF Chang people must’ve of thought we were tourists or something. Fucking tourists.

Anyway, we shopped around and sort of meandered some shops and somehow ended up home.

We watched One Hour Photo and was scared silly by Robin Williams character. Then, in a pivotal scary scene, Kerbang opened the door slowly and FUCKING WHISPERED [I fucking hate that scary whispering shit] “What’s going on here?” and I SCREAMED and my red socks hat flew in the air. Kerbang came over me and said “What’s tha..?” and I looked up and was scared again and yelled “don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! I’m too scared! AHHHHH!!” He must’ve thought I was insane..I mean, I was that scared.

It didn’t help, though, that two hours later I felt the house shake. Woah…is Gumphood having astronomical sex? How…scary. Then I knocked on Kerbang’s door and asked him if he was doing any sort of “activity” but when he opened the door, he didn’t look out of breath, his pants were still on and his hands looked free of any ‘liquid’. We went upstairs to investigate and apparently, this earthquake also scared the shit out of Risa. Hmmm.

Now, are there earthquakes in Massachusetts? Notice I didn’t mention a roommate nor what he was doing.

I think they knew what he was doing in Arizona.

wow. i like, updated all weekend.

i am super drunk. like, the most drunk i have been since i moved here. this is great but not really. i am really focusing on spelling and stuff.

i am so drunk that the next boy that walked through that door [the one over there] I would fuck his brains out. good thing [or bad thing, depending on how you look at it], none of the guys are not here.

i am watching ‘you’ve got mail’ with tom hanks and meg ryan. I should really not be watching romantic comedies while i am drunk but oh well.

speakking of romantic comedies, am i pretty? i mean, i would think i would get more play if i were prettier. or maybe not.

sometimes i see the ugliest women and they get some crazy cock!

respect the cock and tame the cunt..says jerry maguire in magnolia.

i forgot his name right now.

anyway, so, i feel like fat and ugly and yet, i still want to fuck the brains out of any guy who walks through that door.

oh, and i’m getting ims from people and stuff.

i wish i was an aggressive drunk but i’m not, i’m just a sappy one.

oh, and what was I going to say?

oh yeah, the patriots won man.

and i will find out if i have a job by wendesday this wednesday.

oh man, gump hood and ker bang [oops, i almost said their name] are going to show me the town.

i am drunk

but yet, i have impeccalbe typing skills.

i love wine.

go wine.

wine and me

the rainbow connection

i want more.

goats heads and stuff.

go tom hanks.

i want that guys number

i want to pass out in a guys arms.

I tried to do something productive today [read: write a feature length script]. I wrote the first part of it, the introduction of the characters [which is mainly expository] but, when actual plot comes into play—I freeze.

Now, do I freeze for fear of failure or fear of fucess? (I was trying to continue the alliteration). Usually I delete that shit, but NO! I will NOT do it this time goddamnit!

So, I stopped writing that shit and watched The Usual Suspects Featurettes, Inside the Actor’s Studio [w/ Russell Crowe], oh god, watched the Newlyweds marathon.

Speaking of Newlyweds, am I the only one who absolutely ADORED the gameshow? That shit was knee-slapping hilarity. I especially liked it when the newlyweds would NEVER get matching answers and they would hit each other with big ass answer cards [with very neat handwriting]. I swear, in one episode, that the couple was going to get a divorce because the wife was SOOO mad that they were losing.

I remember, my friend Alfred and I were thinking of going on such a show – but not be married for real [well, I’m sure they check for certificates or something] but we knew each other so well, we knew we would blow people out of the water. Wait, was that Alfred or Thai? Some guy in high school that knew me fairly well [maybe I made this deal with both of them]. Then there was that show we could’ve swore we could’ve swindled…I think it was called Singled Out with Jenny McCarthy? I would secretly pick Thai or Alfred and we would share the prizes.

If only I had the balls to actually go through it.

Now it’s time for drama…

I threw in a dramatic picture to get you in the mood.

Are you in the mood?

I am home by myself, which, I thought would be fucking boring but actually, it’s not too bad. Now, I can have my orgies, smoke my crack in the open and watch my German Schisse videos on high volume.

Hells yeah.

Now let me tell you about one of the roommates [name will not be announced for fear he, I mean, or she, will kill me].

One of the roommates, hell, who am I kidding? All of the roommates have crazy gas. Like, it’s a farting factory over here and nobody cares.

Now this may be because I’m from California or maybe because I’m a fake Asian girl [Filipinos are not “REAL” Asians, eh? We’re pacific islanders. Bah], but I CANNOT fart in front of anyone except my sister [my poor sister]..okay, maybe my brother. But that’s it. I don’t think I farted or announced or whatever to any of the housemates.

I mean, my psychosis goes so deep that I can’t even fart in front of them even if I wanted to. Like, my stomach will be making noises for me to fart and such but I just can’t do it.

Anyway, so back to the fart factory. Now, its fine and we have the shower shit spray and everything…but one particular roommate.

Dear God, it’s so bad.

You know how bad? Like, I swear animals were dying in South Boston. I’m talking, we need to send this kid to the military and make a weapon of mass destruction to bully/threaten other countries to do our bidding [okay, that would be evil..hmm..] . The point is—it’s that potent.

Another roommate and I came back from shopping and we went into the common room and they fucking HOT BOXED the common room and WHOOSH, all the stank came rushing into our noses and I think I fainted. So let’s do it this way:

Roommate “A”—the farter

Roommate “R”—the other kid in the room

Me-me

Roommate “S”—The one who went shopping with me.

Roommate R says “Dude, Roommate A farted 20 minutes ago and it still smells?”

Obviously Roommate R’s olifactory factory was killed by the stank. I busted out with the shower shit spray and literally tried to spray the SHIT out of the place.

No luck. It still penetrated through the spray.

Roommate S and I went up to our rooms and WE COULD STILL SMELL IT! It had penetrated through doors and went into our hall. We used the upstairs shower shit spray and sprayed the hall.

Roommate A apologized but I don’t think he knows the severity of the situation.

Regardless, Roommate S described the odor as if “Someone stuff a rotten egg up his/her ass and he/she shitted it out”

I just think Roommate A ate a dead frog or something.

Speaking of frogs—I downloaded “The Rainbow Connection” by Kermit the Frog.

Oh, god, I rock so hard.

hells yeah. No boys in the house. This means Risa and I can do makeovers, play video games without the snarky boys thinking they’re all that, and cook naked. Maybe we’ll make out or something. I want to replace Gumphood’s [aw man, now I can’t use his real name here! ugh] and John’s toilet seat cover with a naked man, like I read in that book…

but I’m a broke ass.

I don’t feel as pressured to be entertaining in this diary, because all 3 of you who read this, don’t care about writer’s integrity nor do you care about being entertained…you just like hearing rigmarole.

And that’s fine when I’m in a rambling sort of mood.

I feel that I will be in better spirits if [or when? should i be so confident? no..] I find out if I have the AVID job. God, like, I would feel like my life would be coming together.

I haven’t been very fair to my housemates as of late…sort of pushing all of them away and becoming more withdrawn, depressed and snappy….and I get surprised that I’m so snappy.

Case and point [or is it case in point?]: Lisa, Alan, John and I were shopping in Target and I was talking about when I had a chance to get my room together and get some actual furniture

and John said: “Yeah…so WHEN are you getting your room together?”

and I completely snapped. I said something like “When I get a fucking job you fucking muthafucker”

Immediately, I felt bad about saying that, but I didn’t know how to retract my statement, so..I guess, he hates me now. Oh well.

Dude, it’s so cold here. It’s like -1000 degrees. Like, it hurts to BREATHE outside. Man, where’s the fucking snow? Like, if it’s going to be cold, make it a winter wonderland.

The wind chill factor is like -infinity degrees and it’s so loud that it wakes me up…and I can usually sleep through…well, I don’t know…I’m actually a light sleeper…scratch that.

I’m doing something semi productive like, reading a book called “The Exaltation of Larks” I feel like, smart again or somethign.

I’m also writing a feature script about my family…because in retrospect, we’re pretty damned weird and we’re pretty distant..but I know we still care for each other.

Of course, in the script, I’m the fuck-up. I feel bad for my sister for having an older sister as a fuck-up.

Thank god she didn’t fuck up like I did. but I will make it up to her this year and then she’ll be proud.

I just noticed–how much I’m afraid my family thinks I’m a fuck up.

oh well, too late now.

I’m too lazy to write anything interesting here, so I’m just going to cheat in this entry and show you photographs of my roommates.

Please note that Gump is not in these pictures because he was not home at this time. This blows, so I’ll have a photo extravaganza of him sometime in the future, or whatever.

Here’s my attempt at being artsy: Behold! A cup!

This picture was taken by Kevin. His attempt? To make me look like a drug addict whore. I was told that I just looked confused. Further, you can’t see it, but he put the numbers 911 on the cell phone. Heh heh heh

This is continuing the drug addled fantasy. Me stuffing bills down my shirt (oh yeah, all 8 bucks) and Lisa..caressing her gun.

This is me caressing Kevin’s gun:

This is a culmination of all the people who live on the third floor. Notice the awesome photography..yeah, that was me.

The Ready and Kerbang series: (Okay, it’s only three pictures…taken by yours truly)

Taking out frustration on a pillow:

Can YOU dear reader, interpret the profound revelations and ramifications of this picture? Yeah, me neither.

And at the end of the day, Kerbang still loves Ready. They will make sweet love under the moonlight and wake up Gump from his rest:

The video game series:

These are all pictures taken whilst playing Soul Caliber II:

In this picture, can you tell who’s winning and who’s losing?

Now this is just shameless…did Kerbang REALLY have to do that to my fragile ego?

But then, I came back and kicked his ass. It’s allpart of the plan, man.

Later that night, my hair was bothering me and I threw up in a fountain head a la 80s style and I had to change my shirt because ahem, SOMEONE (psst: Lisa) spilled water down my back.

Call this a reenactment of Lisa spilling water down my back or me smelling John’s horrific gas [is there a nicer term than gas?].

Ahh, but at the end of the night, after all the deaths and carnage of Soul Caliber II [go Seung Mina and your bad ass muumuu and broom!] We were all still friends.

Awww…