I can't remember what it's like to have real life, hang-out-with-regularly friends.I seriously can't remember.
I want some of those. Interesting ones. I don't care what they're into, just as long as they're intelligent and relatively considerate. Really.
I'm sorry, all I do is whine. "Neeyah. I have no friends and no job and I'm bored and I don't wanna work! People suck! I have no clothes. My mom wants me to work and go to school and not sponge off of her. Nyah nyah nyah. I'm so burdened." It's getting old, isn't it?
Oh, speaking of whining, that reminds me ...
"When does the hurting stop?"
It's my pitiful alter-ego, Tomato the Whiner! (See this entry if you don't know what I'm talking about.)
Now, when Tomato the Whiner gets too insufferable, that's when my other alter-ego, Ripe the Coach, comes in.
"Quit yer belly-achin', you sissy! Have some balls! Now quit staring at this screen, get your miserable ass outta that chair, and go kick some ass, you hear me!"
(Thank you very much, James -- or should I say Jimmy? .. ack .. I should've asked you last time you were online, shouldn't I? -- anyway, thanks for the pictures! Let me know when you get your webpage going and I'll link to you.)
I figured I needed caricature type personas in this diary to make my life seem more interesting.
So ... um .. I was still online too much for my liking today. I'll do better tomorrow, hopefully.
I took a rather nice cleavage shot with my webcam, but I can't post it because it would just be too much ... I mean, it would just be an excuse to show you all my cleavage ... there would be no other purpose, and it would just look so very narcissistic and conceited. I even contemplated just doing an entry with that picture and saying "Yes, this is my cleavage, no pretenses, I just wanted you all to look at it and appreciate what a nice rack I have. The end." or something to that effect, but that seemed inappropriate as well. So screw it. No cleavage shots.
Argh. Men. I'd like to date, and kiss, and hold hands, and get busy, and all that exciting stuff. But I don't seem to want to do that with any of the guys I meet anymore. And all of my long-distance online flirting is starting to feel quite silly. If I got out more, I'd meet more people, increasing my chances of meeting guys I don't find creepy, or dull, or jerky, or lacking in intelligence. It's not like I'm even that picky, I swear.
So yeah. I have to stop talking about how I need to get out more, and just ... get OUT.
Sounds simple enough.
I don't have anything else to say now.
Back tomorrow, probably.
Oh yeah, and one more thing:
The end.
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Ripest entries on the vine
Huh. - Wednesday, Jun. 21, 2006
Another Diarylander jumps on the LJ bandwagon - Tuesday, Jan. 17, 2006
Moving on? - Thursday, Nov. 24, 2005
Because how complicated can elephant hunting be? I mean, they're so BIG and SLOW! - Friday, Oct. 28, 2005
Busted - Tuesday, Oct. 25, 2005
� Ripe Tomato 2001-2005
Don't steal my shit. I'll send thugs. Oh shut up. I do
so
have thugs. Quit laughing! Look, just don't steal my stuff, OK?
