In that order.

1. for my INDIVIDUAL CREATIVE PROJECT for my CREATIVITY CLASS, I think I should like to film some of the PSAs I wrote for my Screenwriting Class. I will probably decide NOT to do them at all, but on the offchance that I decide to be NOT lazy, here are possible PSAs and you may ask to be in them accordingly!


PSA 1: Pro-Smoking

Charlie takes up smoking to avoid doing actual work at his job. Needed: Three Males and One Female

PSA 2: Anti-Smoking

Children that smoke also like gangbangs. Needed: Two Girlscouts, Two Chaches

PSA 3: Anti-Eating-Disorders

Girl with Bulemia Suddenly Starts Compulsively Vomiting Everywhere. Needed: Several Girls, One Boy, One Older Man, One Older Woman

PSA 4: Anti-Drinking

After a night of drinking, Boy wakes up with tranny. Needed: Two Boys (one in drag)


I can't remember any more, but I remember writing about 9 million of them in the first few weeks of class.

In OTHER news, GARY NUMAN just came out with a new CD (Jagged) where he became really goth and sounds like Depeche Mode + Type O Negative.

Therefore, before this livejournal comes to a close, I feel I should announce his party.


It is the 4th Annual Fools' New Year's Party
It is a Fluffer Nutter Pyjama Party. (A Fluffer Nutter is a type of Sandwich, but I am going to ignore the Nutter bit and go as a fluffer)
It is on March 31st at the Clique Bowling Lanes on Stocking Ave.
It is at 10 o'clock until 2.
The Cover is 8 dollars, or 6 if you wear pyjamas.
You will be aurally delighted by Truckstop Cobras, Jake Stilson, The PotatoeBabies and The Sleeves.
You will be orally delighted by me.
There will be bowling all night long, as well as aforementioned musical guests, a sandwich buffet, and the ability to see The Professor in his nightie at NO EXTRA COST!
There will also be charming drink specials.

As a fluffer, I will keep you hard/moist.

So, do come.

I am ASHAMED of my CONSERVATIVISM of days' past.

I am PERPLEXED by my OLD ENTRIES and how they don't really capture the person that I am, or have ever been.

I have always been A BASTARD!

I find that people read my livejournal circa Aught-Four/Aught-Five and I PHEER that they will one day uncover the TRAVESTY that was FIONA HAZE, my alter ego of sorts, who rose from the dead and the pages of the Apocryphia to smite and murder Id.

I apologise dearly for ever cheating myself out of who I really am. Now, only I shall know the SECRETS OF THE PAST! Thereupon, you must add me at my new ego, that is MISSVITRIOL.


Thank you very much.


We are not murdering you. We are fazing you out.

Dear Sir,

I find it most unfortunate that you were once tricked, no CONNED, into participating in such silly activities and even worse still, IN PUBLIC. I understand that one wishes, no DESIRES, to be at peace with their friends! They want to take on their friends' interests and accompany them in such things! But, when your friends' interests are STUPID, it becomes a matter of certain contention. You were such a kind individual to don such ridiculous atrocities that one might refer to as 'clothing' if they were so inclined to be merciful and euphemistic (when the real terminology would be 'boudoir shit'). You were even more benevolent to use your body to convey pointless emotional disappointment, no FAILURE, when other people could see you. Particularly, no EXPRESSLY, people outside of your forced mutual masturbation!
I am so happy, no ELATED, to find that you are now in my care, and the other silly things I would make you do are things we shall BOTH like.





I found out today that The Professor KNOWINGLY PREVENTED me from going to Studio 10, a very ample strip club in Sault Ste. Marie, Canada. He did not realise that my interest in such a thing would be for RESEARCH and also a TAX WRITE-OFF. If we had only gone to the strip club instead, no one would have accused me of being French. It is these oversights that prove to us the humanity of such a one as the Professor, who seems infallible and perfect (because, you see, he is not only extremely attractive, but smart, talented and HONEST!)

I will forgive him this great pubic injustice, of course, as one forgives their 'lover' of even the most insiduous acts! 'Lover', of course, being a word that MORONS use to describe the person they fuck monogamously, or sometimes, when they're not fucking a member of the same sex in order to seem 'interesting.'

At the risk of sounding like a pretentious asshole, it makes MY HEART WANT TO VOMIT at how BAD some of the writing in the Lanthorn Literary Edition is.

Some of it's great, but how does that other shit get in there? Seriously.

I'm only going to write about mommy, daddy and inconsequential breakups from here on out. Then I'll be respected at GVSU.

God, I'm glad Mackenzie had poems about interesting things in there or I'd PEE on it. I'd have to.


In unrelated news: The problem is PROGERIA.


JoetheCabdriver can't go create mayhem at The Brick House with me because he has to work. That's a shame. But I think some Monday, we should go create a scene there and get violently kicked out. I'll tell you why in future posts. Until then, wait in gleeful anticipation of:



"Jesus told me to tell you you're pretty!"

1. Stop talking about my vagina. Only I can talk about my vagina.

2. We are back from away.

3. I made a real-life meat puppet today.



Do or did, do or did? As are as your cybersoiree goes, I think if anyone has the right, I have the right. But a right doesn't correct a wrong, so who's counting?
So, toe-licking, rim-jobbing pornographers and backalley slaughtershacks, missed expectations and miscommunicated legal obligations be damned. I am in looooove with a hot, hot man and I don't care about anything else!

You hash it out, then smoke some.

To make it easier for you, I'm going to start pointing out the cheap shots in my livejournal. That way, there will be no confusion when I write an entry that isn't about any of you.

Upon entering Canada, my liver demanded abuse.

The first bar we hit was lit up in neon lights. It was called 'Reggie's Tavern.' The amount of neon was misleading. Everyone inside was at least 60 years old.
There was a live country back whose frontman looked curiously like Danger of Ville in 30 years.
I ordered a vodka tonic and The Professor got a draft beer. There were signs posted everywhere saying that you had to be nineteen to smoke. However, the flick of my lighter alerted everyone like sharks to the scent OF BLOOD! Some lady tackled me, grabbed my cigarette and put it in a bucket.

"Um...?"

"There's no smoking in all of Sault Ste. Marie Canada. New city ordinance!"

This should have been my FIRST CLUE that Canada was lame.

There was a little old man on the dance floor who knew all the words to the bad covers and made appropriate hand motions.

Next, we hit up this bar called The O'Ases. They were playing 'Get Low' and a bachelorette party was drinking out of penis cups. Eventually, The Professor got another beer and I got a White Russian.
I taught the young bartendress what a chach was just by pointing!
Then, we went nextdoor to RiverRock. Another vodka tonic turned me into a whiny drunk, but I had reasons. As soon as The Professor left to pee out all the shitty Canadian draft he'd been sipping, some asshole wearing a purple bandana comes up and says,

"Hey, you don't look so happy."

Pickup lines in Canada are the EXACT same as in America! Maybe he'd ask me to smile for him next. Maybe he would say, 'I wanna see your grill!'

"I am happy," I say. I'm irritated because the whole time the Professor was with me, Chach McBandana didn't talk to me. You'd think he was a vegitarian or something. (Cheap Shot No. 2!)

And then he said, HE SAID, "ARE YOU FRENCH?"

I had a heart attack and died. A few minutes later I said,

"NO!"

Then he said I SOUNDED French. I've never been SO INSULTED in my WHOLE LIFE! How am I ever supposed to reclaim my citizenship in the motherland if I sound like their arch nemesis! Fuck!

Then, he told me, "Hey, if you want to hear any song, I'll play it for you."

Then he had to scamper back to the DJ booth so he could play B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

At this point, I was just drunk and whiny, so we went to Tim Hortons and ate doughnuts and The Professor didn't win a car. After that, we got back to America without being accused to being terrorists, which was cool.

In the meantime, you should call check out Mykey K's myspace.

www.myspace.com/mykeyk

And then I will tell you about the time I met him and he told me stories about Pat Benatar and he used this pickup line, "Jesus told me to tell you that you're pretty."

NEXT TIME ON LIVEJOURNAL ADVENTURES!

Easy Listening Stations are only tolerated due to the desperate hope that you will eventually hear:

Bonnie Tyler
Wham! or George Michaels
Air Supply


That is it.

In the Upper Peninsula, people get around using snowshoes as their only form of transportation. The Professor demanded that I respect his Finnish culture by 1. watching the Conan O'Brien show and 2. using snoeshows. I asked that he respect my British culture and tolerate me complaining the whole time. For me, complaining sounds a lot like this:

"But, I was thinking we could just touch each other a little bit instead!"

Using snoeshows involve walking as though you have genital warts and stabilising yourself with ski poles. It makes you feel like Fuong.
The Professor insisted we explore the woods. He said,
"I thought you liked it when boys take you into the woods."
Sigh. Just because I always joke about dying in a ravine.
So, he made me trek all the way to some outpost to make the declaration,
"That is Canada."
Then we walked back, and I fell down a lot, because snowshoes are stupid.

The Professor's Mommy has 9 cats, so anywhere you sit, you can pet one.

The Professor is a pussy. He will not drink Canadian Club. He mixed it with Coke, and made cringy faces whereas I drank it straight and liked it. This proves that I am cooler than him.

The Professor is cute when he puts on a sweatervest. And tie. And shirt. And no pants. (shoes are optional)

Answer this ad in Craigslist:


SEEKING FEMALES FOR A BONDAGE VIDEO:


Seeking females ages 18-26 for a homemade bondage video. No nudity involved, no experience required. Involves being tied up and gagged, and filmed trying to escape. Pay is $40 per hour. Please reply to this posting for details. Include your age, location, and a recent photo if possible.




God. It's probably Sir Depolo. I just know it.

The Professor and I shall be gone all weekend to TraverseCity/Canada. I will be drunkdrunkdrunk all weekend.

Hopefully, my stomach will start bleeding and my liver will compulsively fail based on a whiskey/Advil cocktail. There's some warning label about that, but I say, IGNORE!


See you when I return.


Reading over old entries, avoiding work, and reading the comments you left before I hated you... I posted a picture of a plane crashing, and all it said was, 'I have a feeling it's going to be a lot like this.' (This was in May Aught-Five) There was one comment (not yours) and it said, 'the cockpit of a plane never seems to catch fire in those photos... maybe you can pull some meaning out of that?' My response was: 'It means I'll never get an STD. That's what that means.'


God, I'm so wrong sometimes.

Hi! I'm a big, retarded dentist! Let's not do a root canal, which would expertly relieve your pain, but some other thing instead! Maybe your tooth isn't dead, even though a botched filling has left it rotting from the inside-out for two years! Yeah, let's do that! It'll probably stop hurting in a couple days maybe now, but it might not have worked so I guess we'll just wait and see. I think it's probably dead, but it doesn't show that in the pictures even though your other dentist said that. I'm a big fucking retard and I don't care that you're going away for the weekend. Why don't you just suffer the whole time, okay? Okay! No! No, you can't have the procedure you asked for! SORRY!

Today has been, sort of, a huge disappointment.

All the things for a good time seemed to line up, but it just didn't happen. I woke up next to someone I love, and with such pain I wanted to cry.

It was nice outside, but I couldn't focus. I have a great job, it was Fresh Bagel Day AGAIN, but I wanted to vomit all day. Vicodin was in supply, but it didn't do a thing.

Made a new appointment. Follow-throughs, I'm bad at those. Shouldn't the initial impact be enough?

Poetry Night was packed and plentiful, got to perform with Joe, everyone was very good-looking and spot on.... but, all good things must end. I felt strangely out of place for no reason, and then the final moments, of course, were a little disappointing.

The only thing Coopersville was good for was letting you retain some of things you loved when you a child. You didn't have to be sensational there, it just happened that I was.

But who's counting?

Up at the bar at the Sazarac, I had the best cup of coffee ever. Dale Cooper would have been impressed. Another travelling game show host was hitting on me. This one was sad that no one gave him a good slam score. Offered to buy me a drink. Said I had.... well, you know... pretty eyes.

Thanks.

I am in the most constant and excruciating pain in my whole life. I want to constantly cry/vomit, but do neither.

Occasionally, if sensations of another sort are sort of strong, I will forget temporarily about my tooth. As one can expect, the Professor is, therefore, exhausted.

I'm fairly certain that the inside of my tooth has completely rotted out. The infection causes such pressure against the nerve that I kind of want to kill myself. It all could have been avoided if a) the filling had been done correctly b) a root canal had been performed a year and a half ago or c) I drank a bottle of whiskey and removed my own tooth.

I might do that soon. I'm a trooper. I take it like a champ! But five more days of non-stop, sleep-prohibiting, Vicodin-resistant (YES, VICODIN RESISTANT!) pain. I think I'll probably go crazy.

At least the plan is Canada this weekend. R&R no longer stands for rest and relaxation. It stands for cheap, import whiskey ALL THE TIME.

While the Professor and I retain amusement at Joe's malice, Jen fears for her life.

So, once, someone told me this sweet thing: *snarly, creepy voice* "The only thing that'd make you a better cocksucker is if I knocked out all your teeth!"

Well, next Wednesday will take us one step closer to that goal, when we give a rip on number 14. Tooth number 14 is the only tooth to ever give me problems. Mum thinks I should get a root canal, but I think have a large hole in my mouth is a preferrably solution that not only gives me character, but something to play with when I'm bored. Furthermore, root canals plus crowning costs a lot. Pulling a tooth only costs 8.99. That's one fifth of Kessler's Whiskey. After that, you could probably take out your own tooth.

When I finally got to work, I found BAGELS on MY DESK with a note from Kevin that say, 'Happy Fresh Bagel Day!' FINALLY! I MADE FRESH BAGEL DAY! I want to WEEP with JOY! Thank you, Kevin!

In other news, I hope there's a drinking/dancing thing happening during Spring Break not at the bar. Someone have one, and then invite me. Okay? Ooookay!

Exhibit A: I am going to rip out all my fashionable, freshly-dyed 80s hair in frustration if I don't start living for this exact moment. I am in a beautiful relationship and all you bitches and hoes need to step off! I have a nice job in a nice office that's built like a GIANT BAGEL! I am much more attractive than you! OKAY? OKAY! I am fantastic in bed. I am better in bed than YOU! I am first chair principal section leader of your lameass orchestra and I didn't even audition! I could perform a lobotomy on you with nothing but a pack of dental floss, three shots of Henessy and a shard of broken glass! I hope you die, bury and rot in the same corner you stand in, whispering ferociously like a neutered lion, dragging your useless ballsac on the room, teabagging all the assholes you have to step on to make yourself feel like you aren't a worthless, ugly tractor blade replacement set!


Exhibit B:


"When a male dolphin is interested in you, about the only thingyou can do, if you are male, is to masturbate him. (Unfortunately, I cannotspeak for the female of the human species... it seems women just don'tlike dolphins enough... so I cannot say for sure if it is safe to matewith them. I would suspect not, due to a dolphins size, but then again,I cannot say for a woman.) WARNING! In the considerations of safety, youshould NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nosedolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting andthe force of ejaculation (A male can come as far as 14 feet) would causeserious internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death.Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explainingyour predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward....

A male dolphin's member is roughly S-shaped, tapered at the end. Ifyou are in the water with them, it is best to support the dolphin on hisside, just under the water, with one hand, and handle him with the other.Male dolphins, I find, tend to prefer the base of the penis to be gentlymassaged and squeezed, as well as gently rubbed along it's length. It feelsvery much like the rest of the dolphin (ie. smooth and rubbery to the touch,but firmer). It doesn't take long for the male to ejaculate, around 40seconds to a minute, and this is usually accompanied by either shudderingjust prior to ejaculating, and thrusting and tail-arching during ejaculation.The force of ejaculation can be powerful at times, so it is best to keepyour face out of the line of fire, or keep his member underwater. You canattempt to lick and suck on the end of it while masturbating as well, butbe warned, do not try to give full throat, and get the hell out of theway before he ejaculates! A male dolphin could snap your neck in a accidentalthrust, and that would be the end of that relationship."

http://www.sexwork.com/family/dolphins1.html


Exhibit C: You are a secretary! Don't tell me what a doctor wants, you cunt! Don't tell me how to do my job! I will tell you how to do yours! You will transfer me to the line I would like to be transferred to, and then you will kill yourself! Thanks!

That's right.


Apart from that, I'd just like to say that if it doesn't blow your head off, it wasn't a dolphin.

More on that phenonenom later, as well as the strange occurance of Lesbihoes, that is, girls who are only into other girls when boys are watching.
Two conclusive essays on this subject will follow in later days.

Furthermore, thanks, Jen, for the lovely party. I will miss your adorable hair.

In conclusion, The Professor and I both had dreams last night about his Fools' New Year Party. These dreams both involved in being some kind of bust. Mine included it being at the beach (which I despise), and almost NO ONE I liked showing up. Oh! And they made me drink SODA WITHOUT LIQUOR. Fuckers.

As well you know, last night was the VaginaRama.

It was nice. All of the performances I enjoyed watching. Emily's video was one of the best things ever. It was so adorable and beautiful! Mary sang pretty songs, as did IrenetheQueen and Nichole. Rachel did the most entertaining piece I've yet seen her perform. It was nice all round.

Joe was a dream Divine, as in, he looked just like Divine. We found him a gorgeous yellow dress at Large and Lovely and then, with Angela's sorostitue wig, my purse, and some select accessories, Joe ventured off to Rachel's for makeup.

Also, The Professor and I are IN LOVE!


.... AND HE TAKES ME OUT IN PUBLIC!


It's about bloody time.

Trying to find appropriate works for this Poetry Reading at River City is hard.

Greg said they should be more like POEMS and less like STORIES (even though I only write poems about how I'm mad at Greg), and I guess they're supposed to be less dirty than Joe and I usually write. Well, I guess you'll be hearing a lot of new stuff NOT about porn or gloryholes. Maybe LAME stuff about CHILDHOOD. Sigh.

In other news, I'd kill/fuck anyone to the Velvet Underground's Venus in Furs.

The safe word is now: Shiny, Shiny.




kiss the boot of shiny, shiny leather
shiny leather in the dark


Taste the whip in love not given lightly
Taste the whip. Now bleed for me.

I am tired. I am weary. I could sleep for a thousand.
A thousand dreams that would awake me...
different colours made of tears


Oh, Lou Reed.