I know you upgraded my account to 250 MB and all, but not even 250 MB of space can store all of the Penis Enlargers and Vaginal cream in my inbox.

Give me more. :x







or at least keep erotic email out of my inbox.

Some guy kicked a soccerball smack on my right thigh early in the morning during P.E when it was still 40 degrees out. I don't know who the guy was, but he sure can kick hard. I was supposedly "blocking" the ball from getting into the goal and people applauded me for blocking the dumb thing.

Yeah. It hurts. It still hurts. I think it's bruised and I can feel it hurting, even if I am not applying pressure on that giant round area with a diameter of at least 7 inches on my thigh.

Even if I got hit, the other team got some kick off thing and made the goal anyway.

How utterly unfair.

Well maybe I do, but not you.

Just today I got accused of hating three people.

Little Allen says bye to me while he leaves the library from a different table. I stare, smile and wave. What does he say? "You hate me! You always give me that look."
:x Really now, what look?

H.Nightmare, when I don't respond because I don't like responding will take my silence as a sign of hatred. What does he do? He'll say, "YOU HATE ME1!!1!1!@!2!"

And this one person talks to me asking if I remember him. No, sorry, the name's familiar, but no. I try making it up by saying I left him on my buddy list, even after doing another one of my infamous list cleanings. Now this guy overreacts and thinks that I even considered removing him. How does he respond? "YOU HATE ME T_T T_T"



Sure, I usually have something against you and I'm sure you have something against me, as the majority of TCians do, but lordies, I don't hate you. Okay, maybe a few. :D

My mom saw a tan-ish Christmas sweater and wanted me to buy it because it looked warm. I thought, hey, it's cute, and I desperately needed a warm sweater before I am diagonsed with some illness.
We got one for my sister, too.

Rarely do I encounter little old ladies, but my sister does. Both times when she wore the sweater because she was cold, a little old lady complimented her on it.
This sweater must be one of those sweaters little grannys buy their grandchildren for Christmas, while they return it the next day.
I'll tell ya this, I wouldn't return it. .-.


That makes me feel old.

Guantanamera~

is so effing catchy. I only understand about one phrase of it, but oh deary me, I can't stop listening to it. It isn't like that Japanese or Korean pop where I don't understand a complete word but still find the song pretty. Heck, this isn't even pretty or pop. It's a revolutionary song.

:cry:

I need help. I refuse to end up like my Spanish teacher who sits around afterschool singing songs. x_x



Speaking of help, I do need help. It seems as if I look like a cutter.
Hoshizmans.
Rest assured, I would never cut myself. Yes, I had a biggo bandaid over my wrist and another on my hand, but I didn't cut myself. D: I just found cuts there. Okay?

My showerhose has a hole in it
and it fills me up with glee.
For everytime I turn the water on
more water sprays at me.

;D




Karen: That's a horrible poem!

That is all I have to say about Christmas.

:| Because I don't want anything from present whores.

:| Because present whores expect something back from you.

:| For that obligated feeling of giving.

:| I'm not getting you anything.

:| For that ugly look you give me when I tell you I'm not giving out presents.

:| For you thinking that I'm uber stingy.

Simply, .


;D For you, Hans, I used the customized emotes.

I felt the need to post an entry in my Tabulas, just so it wouldn't seem as if I were dead. The problem is, is that I don't know what to say.=X

Since there is nothing better to say, I think I'll whore around DingDing's Christmas Animation, just as I did last year.

Yes, that's right. Click it and enjoy.

Case Closed? I think not.

If anything knows how to piss me off, it's the phone.

I finally got to inserting the new sim card for my cell phone yesterday because my old one was about to expire and my parents wanted a four way family plan. Okay, so what, right?

Wrong.

As it turns out, when I first inserted the card, this 800 number kept calling me. I picked up once, and my mom told them to buzz off. I thought it was over.

Today, when I woke up, some idiot called me at 9 a.m. It was the 800 number again. I tell my mom and she calls up that number and tells them to stop calling the number. As it turns out, it was the credit card company. Hell, I'm not even old enough to have my own credit card.
At 1:48 PM, the 800 number calls me again.

And just now, I get a phone call from the Police saying that I've been harassing someone over the phone internationally or something and calling multiple times over the night and not paying for the calls.

Can you fit the pieces together?
The past owner of my number (I'm guessing) was in some serious debt with the credit card company from sassing some person internationally and not paying for the calls. Now the credit card company is hunting that person down. To avoid the credit card company, the chickenwuss changed his/her number.
And yes, yours truly got stuck with the new number that the phone company issued to me. :|


Oh joyous. CHANGE MY PHONE NUMBER, NOW!


I hate my cell numbers. My first one had plenty of problems, too. Fuck.

I want to talk on the phone.
I want to call Jenny.
But I can't because she lost her voice.

How [That lovely F word goes here] ironic.

. . .So Merry Christmas, yo!

;D

Yeah, yeah. It's five minutes until the next day, but oh well.




P.S. Stay safe during the holidays. Don't drink and drive. >=O

I really do wonder what the hell is the problem of some people these days.

My dad's car mirror was broken for no apparent reason.

Why on earth did they do that? Nothing was stolen.

Does it strike their fancy to break something that isn't theirs? Is it an orgasmic feeling to have touched a Lexus?

Rosemead, where the car was parked, isn't supposed to be that bad of a city. Hell, nothing like this happened in El Sereno, that run down city I used to live in.


This does not make a happy Jennifer. :x

Walnuts on the stairs.
Walnuts in my hair.
Walnuts caked on my scalp.
Walnuts down my sleeve.
Walnuts down my back.
Walnuts on my shirt.
Walnuts on my sweater.
Walnuts in my shoes.
Walnuts down my boobs.
and wait, it gets even better.

I've got a lovely bunch of grinded walnuts in my pants.



It doesn't get much better. 8)

And it was awful. ;o;

I always read in my history textbooks about child labor and poor working conditions that included unsanitary work areas, poor ventilation, crowdedness, strict supervisors and blah blah blah. You know, you all should've read or heard something about it.

Well I experienced it; working for Honda is CHILD LABOR.
They gave me crappy supplies and bossed me and every other volunteer around, with a supervisor constantly at our necks telling us that we're putting too much glue or too little glue on and such. When I finally got a chance to go away, they place me on a scaffold without support or any backing that is twelve feet above the ground. I could handle it if I got to sit on it, but no, they wanted me to walk around on these things that go up and down with every step. To make it worse, parts of the float were sticking out and about, and with one false turn, BOOM, I fall.
Leave me with the silver-leaf, because lady, I'm not going up there and risking my own life for an ugly float that will be thrown away.



Now, what do I get out of this?
No, not money like real child labor, but I get a sore body and a piece of paper with a signature on it.
Oh joyous.

I like being mentioned on silly online surveys.

So take a few of them, say my name, and I'll luff you, fo' eva.