2002-04-07 - 6:00 p.m.

I can't believe I'm actually going through with this. I blame the dugong that I work with for leading me astray down this evil mulitmedia path.

So where are we? Ok then. I'm sitting here freezing -as usual- due to the fact that Professor Coldheart Walden believes that heat is the tool of the devil (not to be confused with Les Foote who swears that Call Waiting is Satan's right hand man). I'm listening to Rick's 3/4 done Mix that I'm trying to finish before I see him when we all go to watch Kids in the Hall on Tuesday in Boston. {that was a very informative sentence}

Hmmmmm, what can we expect in this grandtacular Online JOURNAL? (notice I didn't say *diary*. . .crap.) We can expect me repeating myself a lot, we can expect me ranting almost all the time (with a healthy bit of raving to keep it balanced), we can expect me to make more spelling errors than any self-respecting English Major should (the highlight reel consisting mostly of "ie vs. ei" mix-ups and typing "teh" instead of "the" due to me having acute dyslexia that only seems to occur when I type the word "the" -which I can only do successfully when I concentrate really hard), we should expect more swearing then the characters in Alias (the comic, not the show), we should expect less costume changes than the people on Alias (the show, not the comic), we should expect gratuitous use of the royal "We".

Hmmmmm. . .(ah yes, there'll be lots of ellipses -or as my old roommate Fred called them "those dotty things"- lots of dashes, lots of astericks *the punctuation, not the French cartoon character*, and lots of brackets, but not as much ampersands (&'s).)

Well, that should cover anything punctuationally that we need to know about. We also need to know that I make up words to fit my thinking. Constantly.

Also, as always, I'd like to take a moment to just declare how hideous Veronica's Closet and Suddenly Susan were and anyone who liked them drinks gasoline. My hatred of those two shows burns brighter than the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. My hatred of those two shows (and let's throw in the chlamydia magnet that is Helen Hunt just for kicks) surpasses any hatred I've felt for many other things in my life (i.e. Math, Aerosmith, snobby lifeguards at Surfcoaster who think their better than the kitchen help, etc.). VC and SS put together don't have enough worth to even lick the glorious golden boots of Newsradio. (Also expect to see many a mood swing/abnormal psychological behavior swirling around Newsradio at all times)

Wow. Blathering into the keyboard. It takes me back to many a late night (fueled by the dearly departed Mountain Dew) clickety-clacking hearts and bones on the old BROTHER Word Processor (also known by its Native American name "Parents Too Cheap For Real Computer") in the playroom at ol' 145 in the LAC. One day, when THOSE files are unearthed (when I'm famous of course) they will be worth millions. [Note to Self: Make sure that those old computer files are not buried with the time capsule at Elm Street School, otherwise 2012 is going to be a very awkward year for me. . .]

Man, the Nintendo was SO pissed when we made him move into my room after the unveiling of the Word Processor (which will from here on out be refered to as "computer", as Word Processor is too annoying to keep typing) I mean, I got to still play Metroid, Kid Icarus, and RC Pro-Am whenever I wanted, but due to my brain always freezing when people were in my room, there was much less team play (read: McLaughlin watching me and trying to make me die) than when it was in the "playroom".

Jeezum Crow Laura, longwinded much?

I'm still cold. I've been *told* to put on a sweatshirt. Argh. But then I'd have to go and put ON a sweatshirt, and that's way too much trouble. It's Sunday - The Simpsons are gonna be on - that's good; but school's tomorrow - that's bad. Argh.

-To the Bee-Mobile!-

It's been real,

Quinn: The Mighty Eskimo

ps-We can expect even more HI-larious sign-offs like the one above on EACH and EVERY entry. I know *I* can't wait. . .

pps - Do NOT throw a CAP at my CLOTHES!

ppps - Screw the Loons!

pppps - But what about my cous cous?!?!

ppppps - Keepin' it real. . .East Siiiiide

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