I spent all day altering the appearance of this diary, and it still looks like crap.How sad is my life?
I've been thinking I write about MYSELF too much. So here's a paragraph about someone else. That someone else is Ben.
I've never written about Ben before, so I figured I should. "Who the hell is Ben?", you ask? Ben's a friend I met back in, like, February or something. He lives in Kitchener. He has a band called Jesus Lombardi. He writes for The Future of Music, which just happens to be the website where you can listen to his music. And you should listen to it, because it just happens to be really fucking good. What else can I tell you about Ben? ... Umm .. I talk to him on icq all the time. I don't see him much, since he lives kinda far. But we've hung out, played Clue, and done various other things which may or may not have involved handcuffs, whips, and a large container of grape jelly.
Just kidding. Maybe.
So what made me decide to write about Ben and not someone else? Here's a reason. The other day, after I informed him that I just got back from seeing Puppetry of the Penis (I'll explain that in a bit), rather than being disgusted, he enthusiastically asked me how it was. That makes him cool. Why? I'm not sure. It just does. Either that, or unusually curious about male genital contortion. Either way, I decided he deserved a mention. But I have no idea whether or not he actually reads this thing. So I'm not even going to tell him I wrote about him. Because I think it's fun to write about people and not tell them. Hey, if the only way they'll read my site is if I tell them they're in it, then they don't deserve to read it, damnit. Yeah. That's right. So there. Egotistical bastards.
OK, so I saw Puppetry of the Penis on Thursday. I got invited at the last minute by my MOM, who was going with a whole bunch of other women. They had an extra ticket. Since I was bored and I knew that staying at home most likely meant being online all night begging people to talk to me on icq, I figured I'd go. After all, how often do you get to watch two Australian guys moulding their packages into animal shapes for 45 minutes?
Yes, that really is the best excuse I can come up with. But hey, it's not like I paid to see it, OK? So shut up and stop shaking your head at me, you self-righteous puritan, you.
OK, so that's pretty much it for tonight. Hey, I wrote two entries today, what more do you want? Oh, you don't want more? You actually wish you hadn't even read this entry to begin with? Well then ... umm ... shut up. Go floss your teeth or something. See if I care. Yeah, that's right. I'm talkin' to you. Incidentally, there are WAY too many people out there who use that "You talkin' to me?" line who haven't even seen Taxi Driver. Damn philistines.
ANYWAY, it's time for this entry to be over. Goodnight.
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� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
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