Read this in the "Did you know" by L.M. Boyd section of the Local Paper: "Women who marry younger men live longer. Statistics comfirm this" This is Super swank considering that all the women I lust over: Jennifer, Emma, and Eliza are older than I am. I wonder if I could turn this into some sort of non-cheesy line (you'd remember that I recently apologized to women on the receiving end of cheesy pick-up lines). Although, I'm not really sure if there is such a thing as a non-cheesy line *sigh* Back to the drawing board
I want everyone to know that there is a new word. After the travesty known as the Bennifer shit flick due out tomorrow, I have decided to dedicate "Gigli" as the new pop culture savvy word. Gigli now means "Absolutely horrid, putrid filth that should never see the light of day again." Example: I think the programming on Disney Channel is just plain Gigli.
I have a theory that J Lo's appeal is all in her huge ass, therefore I bet that if she sprung a leak, then she would no longer be able to sing (not that I think she can now), dance, or thankfully act. Maybe she'll be reduced to a drooling moron.
Note to Ben: Dump J.Lo, never make another movie with her, and please work on another DECENT movie project. You know like your "Good Will Hunting" Phase.
Couldn't really come up with a snappy or witty title for this post, sorry.
Summer is winding down and another scholastic year rears its ugly head. Unlike some people who would find the opportunity to go back to school and out of their parent's sphere of influence exciting, I don't. My freshman and sophomore year were bad, horrendously bad. I know I should try to think positively, but that is something that I find almost impossible to do. Everything I try to do seems to blow up in my face, and I am getting sick of it. I want stuff to go the way that I want it to. I realize that that is the wish of almost every person on the planet, and I have to realize to I DO NOT HAVE SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES.
I haven't searched through my archives, but I am willing to bet that I have said on numerous occasions that I should get real. Give up hope of every making a mark on the world, or of being an actor, or be some twist of fate end up in the arms of Jennifer Garner. I sincerely doubt that I will every my one true love.
Wow, aren't I depressing? See even with the medication, I'm not fine. I'll never be fine.
Don't suppose anyone knows how I can trade myself in for a better model?
