I will refrain from telling y'all exactly what I want her for.

Oh. My. God. These pictures from Bazaar are gorgeous! She's Vamp!Britney. Goth!Britney. She looks like she lost weight. ::frown:: She doesn't need to.

So pretty. I'll attempt to post the pics but I'm sure it won't work.

"You can dance,
You can dance,
Everybody look at your pants!"

I heart Homer Simpson.

I'm going to see "Scary Movie 2" today; I don't know how the hell they're going to top the first one but it should be interesting.

"Paulie want a cracker?"
"Paulie wants your mama's sweet ass."

Hahahaha. The preview kills me. See, look I'm dead.

::lies still::

Simma has nicknamed me Frank for whatever reason, which is kinda funny because for a few weeks in high school, my friends called me Frank too. I guess I just have strong Frank-vibe or something.

My story is going well! My story is going well! All hail me and my bunny!

::holds rabbit triumphantly::

Ahem.

I'm done.

I'm bored. I'll refrain from typing it a million times, a la koda, but I'm bored.

I'm going to change my LJ picture a few times today. I'm so indecisive about that stuff; I have, like, 12 pictures that I love but can I use them all? Noooo. LJ bites my ass. Twice. Hey, at least it's free, right?

My bunny is behaving himself. ::grin:: He knows I'll kick his ass.

La-la-la, time to go workout.

I found a plot bunny.

It looked sweet and cute, so I picked it up.

The fucking thing *bit* me.

Now I'm pissed.

The problem is that I'm writing my first - and only - cross-group pairing. I forget what it's called when you take people from different groups and slash 'em...fuck, my brain is fried right now, whatever. I'm writing the story for Carrie's birthday and it involves the two men she lusts after going at it like...horny men. Heh. I think the logic is, Hey they're hot and boy-love is hot, so why the fuck not?

Let me just say this: It's NOT a BSB or O-Town slash crosser thingie. Bleech. I could never slash one of my sexy Nsyncer's with one of the damned. Ew. ::icky chill::

I'm just at a loss for where to go. Hmmm, perhaps I should go to sleep and then tackle the story with a fresh mind. I need to think of a title though; maybe "Fucking Bunny Bit Me and All I Got Was This Stupid Story".

Yeah, that sucks. Perhaps "Here's Your Damn Story, Carrie", although that might be a tad too hostile. Ha.

I need to fill out that survey and jump on the bandwagon with the rest of you. I'll add that to the list of things I need to do tomorrow. Number one is to coax my doggie out from under the bed because she's already terrified of the few fireworks that imbeciles in the neighborhood have been setting off. I don't understand the appeal of fireworks. ::shrugs:: Ah, well.

Time for sleep. Time for sleep. I've stayed up too late and now I'm hungry all over again. Time for sleep.

::glares at bunny::

I'll deal with you tomorrow. Fucker.

Woo-hoo, Carrie and I are going to Ireland next spring after we graduate! Woo-hoo, woo-hoo!

Well, okay, *technically* Carrie will be the only one graduating since I'm going to be stuck at GMU for an extra semester. Apparently, I don't live up to "my full potential". Fuck it. Who cares? We're going to Ireland! La-la-la...

I really want James to come too. Although he wants to bike over the countryside - bleech. I find it amusing how he and I both Aquarians but he's the outdoorsy half of the sign while I'm the artistic side. Hell, I don't care if we bike, hike, or hitch across Ireland; I'm going to fun pubs and to eat in U2's restaurant. ACK!!

I'm trying not to think about how I'm going to pay for this little excursion. I'm going to have to sell my ass or something, since I have no money. Heh. I'll figure it out somewhere along the line. Right now my only concern is how to handle Carrie if by some weird, one in a billion, off-chance we do meet U2. I'm not so keen on taking care of her hysterical, crying ass. (Kidding, Faye, kidding!)

OH MY GOD I'M SO EXCITED!!

::struggles to regain control::

Hee. On a much smaller level, I'm quite excited about our little sprinkle humor site that we're talking about starting. I still think NSYNC's Sprinkle Bitches is a fabulous name, although maybe we should include something about basements.

My brain is on overload right now. I'm so freakin' happy. This will be the first time I go out of the country. I know, I'm a hopeless geek.

Going to see "The Fast and the Furious" again tomorrow. Carrie hasn't seen it and I *graciously* volunteered to go with her. Paul Walker...hmmm...yum.

I've had a plot bunny bouncing around in my head for a few days and no way to get rid of it, short of killing the poor hoppity thing. :) I just don't have time to write anything right now (although one might point out that I could be writing a story instead of updating my journal but I'd have to tell that person to shut the fuck up and go away).

Wow. I'm actually a little dizzy. I need to write to James. I need to indulge my plot bunnies. I need to start packing for Ireland...yes, that's what I'll do. You can never be too prepared.

Ha.

Ho-hum. Not much of anything going on. I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow - thank *god*. I was always afraid to go short but now I want to cut more and more off; I'll prolly be bald soon. It's so freakin' hot here (VA) that the thought of shaving my head is actually tempting. LOL.

My dear, lovely, wonderful friend Kipley has started a website and is hosting my fiction; I'm so happy! I'd have my own website but I'm a dumbass about things like that; getting this LJ was a huge leap, okay? The address is:
http://www.geocities.com/howiesjigglypuff/Chrissy.html
There is only one story up so far but the rest will be added soon. Plus, I need to write some new stuff; I have about 5 stories started but they all kind of...I don't know...stopped working. My plot bunnies died in their prime. Everyone should take a moment to mourn.

How much do I love the layout? A whole bunch!!! I just adore having Joey's face anywhere near my name. I love his sexy "Don't you want to fuck a cowboy?" look.

::waves arms and jumps up and down::

I do, I do!

::sigh::

I don't think he heard me. Damn.

I'm really upset that 3rd Rock went off the air; I'm watching the episode when Dick gained weight because he and Mary broke up:

"I'm doomed to a life of forlorn pudgery!"

Bwahahaha. Even better is:

"I need more structure and support, so I joined a weight loss program: the Fat Losers."

::snort:: John Lithgow is hysterical.

I saw "The Fast and the Furious" and may I just say wowpaulwalkerisprettyohdeargod...

That movie was so cool! I love the music, I love the cars, and, hello, I *love* the guys. Paul Walker is so pretty. And he sounds remarkably like Keanu Reeves. Very weird. And, oh, Vin Diesel's biceps are the size of my head. What's-her-face, the one who looks like a young Demi Moore, really needs to pluck those eyebrows. Bushy much?

~~
Okay, now on to a more serious issue. Something weird happened to someone I love very much and I feel like ranting.

I've been thinking about something: Human beings, on the whole, tend to ignore their gut instincts and write off those twinges of apprehension as paranoia or an overactive imagination when, in fact, it is their subconscious telling them that a situation is dangerous. Think about all those stories you read in magazines and newspapers about women who have survived rapes, kidnappings, and murder attempts - almost, if not all, of them say that they had a nagging feeling that something about the situation was wrong but chose to ignore it. Why do we do this? Is anything as important as our well-being or our lives?

And it's also very easy to say that nothing bad will ever happen to us - oh, no, that won't happen to *me*. *I'll* be fine. Does anyone really think that women who have been victimized ever wake up one day and think, Wow, I'm going to be attacked/raped/murdered today? No one ever thinks it will happen to them. Only it does and it can and women need to learn to be more careful. If someone makes you uncomfortable, tell them. Loudly and in a place full of other people. Who cares if you offend them - they are a stranger and a possible threat to your well-being.

And, no, I'm not paranoid; I'm realistic. I don't walk in dark parking garages alone at night, I don't leave my car doors unlocked, I don't take rides from strangers - and I don't trust people I don't know very easily. Nor should I. Serial killers and rapists don't wear signs or have distinguishable markings - Ted Bundy was as All-American as they come. And race, age, height, and weight have very little to do with whether or not a man could overpower you. There are predators in this world; don't think you couldn't be their next victim, no matter how nice they may seem. It's just not worth the risk.

The person for whom this manifesto is intented knows who she is; I just hope she reads it.
~~

Time to take my nightly sleeping pills and lie awake until they decide to kick in.

::smooches::

I finally got a personal picture! Thanks, koda, for helping me because, ya know, I'm a gigantic dumbass.

::sigh:: Oh, how I love this picture. Pretty men in drag - really, does it get better than that? I want Kevyn Aucoin to make JC over like David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust phase. Rawr. It should be illegal for JC to be so beautiful. Who has cheekbones like that, except maybe Christy Turlington? Don't even get me started on Lance's skin and Justin's eyelashes...

I realized that saving an entry to my calendar is a dumbass thing to do. I'm not even sure how that little button was checked in the first place.



I wish Carrie stayed up late. But, no, she has to work and be productive and make money, yadda, yadda. Well, good for her, but who am I supposed to talk to?

I'm still trying to figure this damn LiveJournal thingie out, so nobody be impatient, okay?

Who, exactly, am I talking too? No one even knows I have this thing. Great, first I'm prattling to myself on the rglist, now I'm doing it here; when I crack, this journal will be proof of my slide into *complete* fucking insanity.

Blah. Off to look at U2 pictures.