Sunday, 03/24/02 - 8:50 pm.
Aaaawwww, isn't this cute? (FYI: from right to left: Steven, Steven's wife -Teresa-, Steven's son -Taj- and Steven's daughter -Chelsea-).
*clears throat* The president of the United States of America arrived this morning to my country.
Mr. Bush and "our" pathetic puppet, so-called president held a press meeting. Seriously, and no offense, but it seemed they were about to cuddle and make out in front of the cameras. They were practically flirting. Oh, the commercial relationships...
On other news, I got to go to the supermarket with Alan this morning. I hate the vegetable/fruit aisle, I hate squizzing each vegetable and fruit, examining it from every angle and such, and then try to measure how many units I need to have X lbs. I'm more of a "let's go to the cereals/cookies/chips sections and get everything that's on our way" kind of person. In fact, I got two cartoons of milk chocolate, a package of Oreos, ice cream and some other junk stuff. Yeah, yeah, we bought healthy stuff, too.
All in all, it wasn't that bad. I had fun buying all the food and shit, and Alan is certainly a good, hilarious partner. I'm so thankful and glad he's my brother. Only we forgot the garbage bags and some kind of powdered drink.
I have this friend....I don't remember if I had talked about him. We talk once in a while. Ummm...yeah, yeah, I have mentioned him. I've mentioned that all I know is that he's an Aerosmith fan (in fact, we added to each other's MSN contact list so we could transfer MP3s), he lives in the UK, he's 14 and we hold the most outrageous and senseless conversations, from Freddy Kruegger to Milli Vanilli. He's a cool kid. He didn't believe my first love was a cartoon turtle, and said he wasn't into the TMNT....but he did recall Captain Planet, and he liked Wheeler the best. So did I.
As we both pointed out, that show was obviously trying to educate the kids, on how to be ecological. But, at least the both of us, never got the real message, and never realized it until now that we're teenagers and we don't watch it anymore. Personally, I never thought that this show was trying to tell me something. Oh, childhood.
Shit, I have hiccups. I hope no one calls. Oh, Lord, my lungs are going to explode.
FUCKIN' HELL, HICCUPS IS KILLING ME!!!!
Hiccups scare me. That's the proof that I can take myself as a hostage and hurt me. I just pressed my throat very hard...hey, I hate hiccups, and if it was for me, I'd stick my hand inside my mouth and throat, reach the fuckin' diaphragm and hit it with a, uh....remote control, let's say. And hit it and hit it, until it comes out of my body and I can beat it to death on the floor.
Hey, the hiccups is gone. Thank God. I feel I'm reborn. With a slight sorethroat.
Alan and I just had dinner. He brought something from Burger King. Two hamburgers and one side of fries. I didn't even had the heart to ask him to bring me an apple pie because
a) I believed his budget was a bit short,
b) he'd bought me one yesterday, out of the goodness of his heart.
My burger sucked. It had double meat, a slice of beacon and one pickle. Not even lettuce. My Coca-cola tasted like some kind of lemonade soda. I told him, I told him it didn't taste like Coke, he said it did, and also, it tasted like Cola.
He said he was going to open this certain box and have a piece of some weird bread we'd bought this morning. I already opened it, I said...he looked at me with and said: what?. He mentioned I'd opened the ice cream bowl, the Oreo cookies package and now the bread. He smiled and I laughed...you little eating machine. When we finished eating, he walked up to the fridge, saying that he was going to eat the mango slices before I laid my hands on it....whooops. Too late, I had already. He only cracked an ironic smile. We found a bag of chocolates in one drawer, and he rushed to open it before someone eats them all. Surprisingly, I'm somewhat thin. Not anorexic, though, God forbid. I mean...I'm normal. not fat, not thin. Go my metabolism.
Loser is on HBO. *yaaawwnn*, I hate those teenage movies. I feel like watching Dead poets society instead. My dream has been to belong to a group like that one.....HA! dream on, you loner. Better loner than a "teenage dirtbag" though (does this sound like a conversation held by someone who hear voices in her head?). I don't know why teenagers have this stupid need of being miserable in front of society. I know, most of times society makes us all miserable, because it is the fuckin' miserable one but....why victimize oneself? Someday you'll die, that's the time when everybody will victimize you. Until then, enjoy your fuckin' life, bastard!!! Dammit.
Ok, time to go lose time on something else. Plans for tomorrow: aaawww, call the guy, maybe. I hope he's feeling better by now.
Today's simeonistic advice: cut the plastic circles that keep the six-pack together, before you throw them away. They wind up in the beach and ocean, and several animals, like baby seals and seagulls die asphyxiated when their heads get stuck in those circles by accident.