The arrival of the album and touching, mindfucking documentaries.
Sunday, 05/02/04 - 10:27 pm.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have finally purchased Aerosmith's Honkin' On Bobo (!!!). I went to the mall to buy The Beatles' Past Masters, but the record store on-a-corner was closed.

I was at the mall because I needed to buy greeting cards (many of my acquaintances were born in may), and a bed. Well, my mom has had this idea of buying me a new bed for some time now. I think it's because I've slept in the same bed for 19 years. They bought it at the flea market when I was living in my mom's uterus. I've outgrown the goddamn craddle already.

While my parents were arranging the date of the delivery for my bed (I love it, and so does my spine), I went to check out the music section. They never have a lot of variety (Aerosmith-wise and Beatle-wise), but music is music. I've been thinking about getting my first DVD, and that'd be Paul McCartney's Back In The U.S.

Ok, I'll make it short. That store had Honkin' On Bobo. The limited edition. The whole world around me disappeared when I saw it. My mind, aware of the freudian defense mechanisms, used the one in which you separate the thought from the emotion. In this case, for me to avoid playing dumb in public. Dumb as in: OMGGGGGZZZZ!!!!11. I was really, really happy to finally find that album. I almost felt guilty for bitching these past two months about it.

Ok, and I have a harmonica keychain as well *this is where I'm supposed to say "does a happy dance", but I'm not much of a dancer, really*.

The Discovery Channel and People & Arts and such channels rock my world. Oh, yeah, and the BBC documentaries. Yesterday I caught a show about The, International Week? I'm not sure, I caught it halfway through, and it was about festivals and tours and places and auctions. I want to go to Liverpool.

And tonight I caught a show about penguins. I love, love, love pebguins. There were thousands (in the artic), walking all funny. And I wholeheartedly cried when I saw a bleeding penguin, that'd been attacked by a seal, die on the shore. Watching those shows, I wonder why in the fucking world I am majoring in a career that focus mostly on people, when I really prefer animals. I don't regret it at all, of course, I sure love what I chose. But I'm this close to decide for good that I want to live among animals better than to get married.

Well, as I'm typing, four weddings and a funeral is coming on. And guess what? I love Hugh Grant. Yeah, bye.

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