July 05, 2003 - 10:37 a.m.
Hello Diaryland! In my last entry, I came to a conclusion. I came to the conclusion that I "made a grave mistake when I predicted I ought to have an online diary." That turned out to be incorrect. The ACTUAL mistake that was made was this: I made a mistake when I made another SECRET diary.
Because, diaries are fun. Secrets CAN be fun, but after a while they turn into gossip and suckitude, which is notorious-- along with food posioning, being stabbed in the eye, and Star Wars: Galaxies-- for NOT being fun.
I'm starting a diary. And everyone can read it! Hooray! This might turn out to be a stupid idea, but I doubt it could do as much harm as, say, the ritualistic slaughter of an entire race of people, or trying to drive a car using not your hands but instead your nipples, or telling your girlfriend that she looks great and then attempting to show a loving interest in her appearance by then guessing that the reason she looks great is she recently shaved between her eyebrows.
Um, okay. Off to a bad start already. Sorry, haven't eaten yet today.
Well anyway: what you need to know for right now is that I'm living in Orange County in my ex-girlfriend's sister's house, and I have a job and a possible place to live three hundred miles away, and my only internet access is at the Brea "Loudest Library, Ever" public library.
Basically I got tired of rumors floating around each county every time I left to spend some time in the other one, so here is a diary. It's quite biased and personal, but it should be more truthful than some of the rumors I've been hearing.
Some untrue rumors:
-> I secretly think Clara is really pathetic, and there's nothing funnier than the idea that she loves me.
-> I got kicked out of my dad's house because I got caught having sex with my ex.
-> I say I need money all the time, but I never actually work, because I am lazy.
-> I am in fact gay, and I just don't know it yet, and life would be so much easier for everyone if I would just come out of the damned metaphorical closet already. (This one was Amanda's idea.)
Oh, I guess I should change my disclaimer. I'll go do that right now. Short version: if you are a real person featured in this diary and you get mad about what I say, talk to me and I will try to set things right, delete the offensive passage, give you an apologetic body massage, or commit seppuku. Or if that's too reasonable you could always get mad and start your own online diary and say all kinds of nasty things about me. I can supply some inventive false rumors to spread, too, if need be. Okay, I'm off to go buy a fan. Because IT IS STUPID HOT in this town.
