FML

No, not really.

How about, FDSAI, stands for "FUCKING DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!".

Not that big of a deal, folks. If you have some shit on your mind that you can't shake, think about something else. Go pick up a fucking book, watch a fucking movie, walk around. Go outside and think about how much shittier standing in fifteen degree weather is than whatever is bothering you. I promise you, you'll fucking live.

See, I just got off my mind how pissed I am about how much everyone bitches about stuff that they an change or forget about, and now I will get on with my day.

Try it.

Son of a bitch...

Normally I like Amazon's personalized recommendations, but this has gone way too far.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001O2KSZA/ref=pe_30300_11432460_fe_img_1/

How do they know that I drink coffee, and why the fuck would I buy that anyway?

IDIOT

There are few things I enjoy more than seeing someone misspell a name that is literally eighty pixels away.

Not only are they careless, stupid mistakes. These mistakes are also obligatory to holding a friendship. How the fuck can you remain friends with someone who can't spell your name properly? I suppose I can pardon a last name under the right circumstances. I try not to hold myself to a higher standard or anything, but I can still spell Krzhizhanovskiy just fine.

Unbelievably tired right now.

Forgot it was Fat Tuesday, got drunk.

Five hours of sleep, up at eight.

Wasting time until it's acceptable to goto bed without being called a pussy.

So we had a party last night.

Somewhat against my will I laid down and let a party happen last night.

Jungle juice--looked like dirty ocean water, horribly delicious, dirty ocean water.

Jungle juice is incredibly sticky, especially the second batch with Hawaiian Punch in it, green like Ecto Cooler. A cooler of Jell-o shots are also relatively sticky.

And apparently some hands were sticky, my beard trimmer was stolen last night.

Not that I have an emotional attachment to my beard trimmer or anything, or that I even use it very much. I feel like a little description is necessary here.

If you know me, you probably know how much of a chore it is for me to grow facial hair, it simply doesn't happen. I DO shave, just not very much. Why do you think it would be necessary for me to have a beard trimmer? Let's just say I don't use it on my face...

Oh, and Dana's iPod was stolen, sort of my fault, I just set it in Vince's room.

Sticky fingers are sticky fingers, so I'm assuming whomever it may have been stole both.

So now some happy thief out there is going to be sitting in his bathroom, hip-hoppin' to Dana's iPod, and shaving his beard with the instrument that I regularly touch my genitalia with. Have fun with that one, man.

There's something I need to get off my chest.

Been on it for awhile.

If downloading mp3s is hurting the music industry so much, why are my favorite bands still releasing albums? And why are said albums kicking so much ass?

That said....

I recently discovered the power of Google, as well as the power of used books on Amazon. The days that I find wonder in the internet again are rare. 

iGoogle is maybe the coolest thing ever. Time, Google search, e-mail, weather, sports scores, word of the day, spanish word of the day, twitter, reader, news...everything I could ever want in one page.

Amazon sells used books for like five bucks, I've bought four in the last week or so to replace the money spent on cigarettes. Go me. 

An apology is due to you, apparently.

I felt like apologizing.
Apparently being proud of something you accomplished is pompous and shouldn't be a feeling to experience after ACCOMPLISHING SOMETHING.

I'm sorry I quit smoking, world, and I'm damn sorry I keep bragging about it. I'm not about to punch anyone in the face about this, although I'm sure you are; world. Now, the thing that really gets me, world, is that you have literally no room to bring up accomplishments and how much they should mean to you. I mean, breaking a hole in your o-zone layer isn't as much of an accomplishment as...winning a nobel prize or something.... Actually...
It's quite the accomplishment, since you hurt yourself doing it.

I'm sorry if I'm cathartic, or reading to far. But, it felt like a necessary time to call someone out, since an argument just ensued. But, I'll be God-damned if I'm not happy those dudes didn't demolish this pizza.

The real point is that I wish people would just know their fucking role. If you were, say, a prostitute and you gave up fucking I'd probably give you a high five. But, if you were a friend of mine, and you gave up something tough...I'd probably just say fuck off. You see, no one can accomplish anything, sans thyself. Alas, thyself shall only make consequence on one's own actions. So fuckin' twiddle your twat on that one.

I fucking quit smoking. You don't fucking work. Your credit hours don't mean a FUCK to me, and apparently anything I've ever done is worth horse shit to you, so right back at you. I sincerely apologize for the fact that we all give you shit day in, and day out, for not working. You officially live the dream we all wish we could live: some class; no work. Until you aren't living that dream anymore we'll keep shoving the iron skewer of truth up your nostril until we hit the sweet spot.

So, for the time being, fuck right off, finish your shit, and goto bed.