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Inside: Cultural Sausage. ~ Ludic Lists. ~ Skullbucket. Outside: "good vs. evil in Dracula" "special people retarded faggots" "wolf among wolves" "words that rhyme with bot" "She-Hulk naked" "Donald Luskin stalker" "fuckhammer" "which New Mutants character are you?" |
06.03.2004
Sat., June 25th, 2004: Well, that's it. This pain in my right shoulder isn't getting any better. Not only is it causing me a big hassle at work, but I had to cancel tennis with Ed this morning and that hot chick with the nose stud always plas on Saturday morning. And I would have felt like a retard going down to the court and hanging out and not playing. Anyway, I made an appointment with the doctor. Tues., June 28th, 2004: The doctor says I just have a hyperextended something-or-other muscle, and he gave me some kind of Icy-Hot type thing to put on it, said to rest it and keep it taped for a week or so and it'll be fine. But the thing that really sucks is, he was doing some routine tests, like as part of a checkup because I haven't been in a while, and he found out I have immortality. That's just great. And since I'm adopted, there's no way to tell if it runs in my family. Thanks a lot, mom and dad. Sat., July 16th, 2004: This whole immortality thing has got me really down. I looked it up on the internet and it's non-fatal in nearly 96% of the cases. And in the section where it says 'recommended courses of treatment' it just links you to a gun dealer. This morning at tennis, we got a game of doubles going with that nose-stud girl and her friend, and Ed tells me I should totally get her phone number, but I'm all, what's the point? She'll eventually crumble to dust and an eon later I'll still be here, with no backhand. Tues., Feb. 9th, 2005: I'm deteremined not to let this thing beat me. The more I think about it, the more I think it could actually open up a lot of opportunities for me. I could lose some weight, learn to sew, maybe put a few grand into some safe long-term investments or even just a high-yield savings account and go back to school and get my master's. The only thing is, I have to pick a field of study that's still going to be useful in six or seven hundred years, and I hate history. Fri., March 23rd, 2005: I finally broke up with Melanie. The other day we were talking about what to do this summer, and she suggests white water rafting. I say, well, isn't that kinda dangerous? And she says "no one lives forever". That is some cold-blooded shit to say to someone in my condition. I mean, okay, I never told her, but still. Hey, guess what, Melanie? Your cheap-ass fake nose stud won't live forever either. Tues., May 17th, 2074: Man, putting that money in long-term high-yield savings accounts totally paid off! I'm in a whole 'nother tax bracket now. Of course, all my friends are dead, but fuck them, I'm getting a Jaguar! Wed., Feb. 21st, 2091: Well, the bad news is, I wasted a whole shitload of time learning Chinese back in the 2060s. I might as well have learned Latin for all the good that shit's gonna do me. On the upside, though, nuclear war turns out not to be as bad as everyone said it was going to be. In your face, Bertrand Russell! Ydax, Harque 617, Year One of the Star-People: Man, it's going to take me forever getting used to this new calendar. I'm still writing 2411 on my checks. Also, It's been like three hundred and fifty years. I really need to get serious about losing some weight. Holoc, Harque 1009, Year Four-Hundred and Eighty of the Star-People: Boy, it's been a long time since I wrote in this thing, huh? Not much going on. Shoulder still acting up. More later. Ular, Harque 1918, Year Seven-Hundred and Nineteen of the Star-People: Holy shit, did you know that Mount McKinley is the tallest mountain in North America? You live right next to the thing for so long and you never know that stuff. One of these days I'm seriously going to take up hiking. But, you know, that's what I said about learning to sew, and now that I can finally do it, everyone's wearing these liquid metal unitards, so that was a bunch of work for nothing. Thurs., June 18, 5016: God, speaking of wasting time. Make up your minds already about the calendar thing, galactic overlords! Also, has anyone but me noticed that people are starting to evolve into these sort of insectoid life-forms? Maybe I'm just getting old, but the dating scene just doesn't seem to be as much fun anymore with them around. Sun., Feb. 20, 7291: Oh, great. The human race is extinct now. What did I lose all that weight for? |
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| TODAY'S DRIFTWOOD: "You may be as vicious about me as you please. You will only do me justice." (Richard Burton) |