Oh my stars and gardens, SIX people have reviewed my page! You really love me. You really DO love me! Et le dernier �tait un vrai qu�b�cois... wow. (yeah... actually, only four people have reviewed my page, seeing as one was me and another was mysteria's repeat... can i help it if i engage in a little hyperbole now and again? (you know, i find it difficult to reconcile hyperbole as mathematical function with hyperbole as a literary technique (or, hyberbole as a fancy way of saying, "man, you are full of shit!")- what i want to know is, which is the REAL hyperbole, and which is the impostor? i'd say "hyperbole" sounds more like a math term than an english term, wouldn't you? hmm? well, that settles it. strike "hyperbole" from all english textbooks! hyperbole shall now be the domain of math, and math only! by decree of the once and future puppet master of life, the universe, and everything, ME. (and once again, even as i was striking it dead, the ghost of hyperbole as a literary technique has slithered into my language... ye gods!!! let it die!)))

Une fran�aise de Paris once told me (actually, she just said it in my presence, she wasn't actually TALKING to ME, god forbid) that she doesn't hate les qu�b�cois, she just hates their accent. And you know what? I don't know how to say "qu�b�cois" in English. What is it, Quebecian? Quebecese?

I know a girl from Qu�bec. Montr�al, m�me. In my mind, I call her "La Qu�b�coise." But I never call her that to her face, because that would just be going TOO FAR.

favorite foreigner english grammar mistake: saying "I'm not interesting" when they mean "I'm not interested."

I'm listening to Queen right now. It's been a long time since I listened to Queen. This CD is perhaps the second or third CD I ever bought. I don't remember if it was before or after Ten by Pearl Jam. I might have got them both at the same time for my fourteeth birthday. It's quite a distinction, you know. To be the second/third CD I bought and all. The first CD I ever bought was... Blood Sugar Sex Magik by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. I was thirteen. The first tapes I ever bought were The Raw and the Cooked by Fine Young Cannibals and [cough... ahem] some Bobby Brown album... I was nine. I still listen to that FYC album fairly often- I have it on CD now.

It was the movie Wayne's World that introduced me both to Queen and Jimi Hendrix. That movie should be part of the national junior high school curriculum. Lots of practical advice for living is contained therein.

"If you're not careful, Wayne, you're going to lose me."

"I already lost you five months ago!"

"But that doesn't mean we can't still go out."

"Well it does, actually. That's what breaking up is."

Where would I be today without clarifications like that? One thing I can say for Stacey- the girl knows what she wants, and she goes for it with singleminded determination. How many of us can say the same?

today's dilemma- Do I go to spring and summer term or not? On the one hand, I really want to go. On the other hand, I probably hate school more just now than ever before in my life, so maybe it might not be a good idea...

I don't like cell phones. They epitomize tackiness in my mind. I'd hope to never own a cell phone, but I can see how it might be useful. You can bet it would be a small circle of elites who would have my cell phone number... Like my wife. If anyone ever consents to marry me. I can think of one instance where I might have need for a cell phone. Say I'm driving through the Australian outback, millions of miles (well... not MILLIONS) from the haunts of (self-proclaimed) civilized humans, and my car breaks down. And then a horde of rabid wombats attacks. The battle goes well for me at first, as my pimp slaps send foaming wombat heads flying in all directions (and the blood is spewing out in kind of pinwheel fashion as the head spins off- it would be cool. anyway...). But remember, this is no wandering "gang" of rabid wombats- this is a HORDE of wombats. Those suckers don't stop coming. Eventually I will start to become weary. Covered in marsupial entrails as I would be, my iron will would remain as my strength was slowly siphoned away by the slobbering masses confronting me. I can imagine myself thinking in this situation, "Gol durn, I'm shore glad I gots me a cell phone!" And with such noble thoughts enlightening my brow, I would unsheath Excalibur (for thus shall the appellation of the Hallowed Phone be uttered), holding it aloft as symbol to the vermin of their uncleanness before my sight. And then I'd call for back up, and everything would be cool. Yeah. See, cell phones ARE useful! And of course, everytime someone called me on my cell phone, I'd have to say "Talk to me!" in that it's-your-lucky-day-to-be-talking-to-me tone. If that wouldn't merit a certificate authenticating me as cool, I don't know what would. I think it would merit a gold star, AT LEAST.

Well. It seems I now have to go eat and speak Paris talk or whatever. Je me casse...

godfried wants a puppy too,

greyarea

Damn you people! Go back to your shanties!

Diaryland