"Leave Your 'What's Up?' At The 'Yo.'"
It occurs to me that after I was forced to start f-locking all my journals, I neglected to make ANY public ones at all. I bet you kids were starting to think I had died or, those of you who know me in the "real world," were probably bored out of your minds wondering what sort of mayhem I was getting into and not telling you about.
Well, let me fill you in on the last couple months: after being arrested at a political protest turned anarchist riot, I was shipped to Guantanamo Bay and forced to drinks kegs and kegs of beer so they'd have a reason to put me on trial (apparently underage drinking is now an act of terrorism). Fortunately, a special Buddhist monk task force came to my rescue and placed me in the hands of the Swedish mafia for safe-keeping. While in their care I was employed as a snitch, using my new high-tolerance to alcohol I drank all suspected two-faced double-crossers waaaaaaaaaaay under the table and got them to reveal all their secrets to me in their drunken stupor. Unfortunately, all that drinking had an unexpected impact on my delicate French-Canadian constitution, and I developed strange magical powers. I then used these powers to escape the hold of the Swedes and pick up a variety of hot men including famous pop stars who shall go un-named so as to protect my street cred. After that I settled down in a small town on the shore of the red sea with Pablo, the pool boy of one of said pop stars (who also happens to come from a long line of kimono makers). We make a tidy living renting rooms and training young mutants in the art of kung-fu. Also, I've taken up knitting.
I'm so sorry I had to wait until NOW to tell you this but, after certain parties *cough*Fletcher*cough* stumbled across this journal and began to make my life a living hell, I had no choice. Forgive me, I had no idea that there wasn't a place where I could take refuge without fear of being judged or found out and then spat at with my own words and confessions. So, for those of you who thought I was dead because you saw no entries from me, know that it is not YOU who is to blame, but the bastardpeople who invade my personal space and turn my words against me who ruined everyone's fun.
But in all seriousness. I haven't done anything interesting. Except perhaps be disillusioned and car-less. Oh, also, I was in a play. Sorry to dissapoint...
So long, farewell and all that.
Well, let me fill you in on the last couple months: after being arrested at a political protest turned anarchist riot, I was shipped to Guantanamo Bay and forced to drinks kegs and kegs of beer so they'd have a reason to put me on trial (apparently underage drinking is now an act of terrorism). Fortunately, a special Buddhist monk task force came to my rescue and placed me in the hands of the Swedish mafia for safe-keeping. While in their care I was employed as a snitch, using my new high-tolerance to alcohol I drank all suspected two-faced double-crossers waaaaaaaaaaay under the table and got them to reveal all their secrets to me in their drunken stupor. Unfortunately, all that drinking had an unexpected impact on my delicate French-Canadian constitution, and I developed strange magical powers. I then used these powers to escape the hold of the Swedes and pick up a variety of hot men including famous pop stars who shall go un-named so as to protect my street cred. After that I settled down in a small town on the shore of the red sea with Pablo, the pool boy of one of said pop stars (who also happens to come from a long line of kimono makers). We make a tidy living renting rooms and training young mutants in the art of kung-fu. Also, I've taken up knitting.
I'm so sorry I had to wait until NOW to tell you this but, after certain parties *cough*Fletcher*cough* stumbled across this journal and began to make my life a living hell, I had no choice. Forgive me, I had no idea that there wasn't a place where I could take refuge without fear of being judged or found out and then spat at with my own words and confessions. So, for those of you who thought I was dead because you saw no entries from me, know that it is not YOU who is to blame, but the bastardpeople who invade my personal space and turn my words against me who ruined everyone's fun.
But in all seriousness. I haven't done anything interesting. Except perhaps be disillusioned and car-less. Oh, also, I was in a play. Sorry to dissapoint...
So long, farewell and all that.