Um, yeah.
Okay, now I'm embarassed.
First off, if you are in my friends list? I read your livejournal. No, I do. Religiously. As in, several times a day. And if I suck and haven't put you on my friends list yet, it doesn't mean I don't love you, it means what I just said: I suck. I am, in fact, the dictionary definition of A.D.D. and cannot be content to merely check LJ once a day but must do so every time I arrive home in the apartment and the slightest possible chance exists that someone has posted an entry about the state of their earwax or perhaps their Great Aunt Ruthy's athritis, even though it's only been an hour, if that, since I left the damn building.
What's worse, I'll do this little deal: Check LJ. Check to make sure I've read everyone's entries. Hit re-load to see if perhaps anyone has posted in the time it took me to read. Scroll down and read all the comments everyone ELSE has made on your entries. Make comments if I'm feeling witty or have something to contribute. Check my email. Delete massive amounts of junkmail. Hit re-load. Pout at computer screen for a bit when the only mail I've received is someone wanting to enlarge my non-existent penis. Check Scary-Go-Round. Check my cell phone, which is on silent all day while I'm in classes, to see if anyone has called, which of course they haven't. Check Livejournal again. Contemplate checking my school email, half-heartedly playing spider solitaire and wishing desperately that I still had a file downloading program. Check LJ again.
This process takes up, I shit you not, at least a half hour of my time each time I do it. Fact is, not only do I read your entries, I re-read them, and re-read them again, BECAUSE I AM RETARDED. So you see, the only thing this is telling you is that I AM OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE AND SHOULD BE LOCKED AWAY IN A PADDED CELL FOR THE REST OF MY NATURAL LIFE. (Preferably with Patrick Murphy or Johnny Depp. Or both.)
I don't think you people quite comprehend how utterly idiotic I am. Every picture, CD, sketch, gift, photo, doodle you crapped out while high on opium that you HAVE EVER GIVEN ME, I have. Yes, I do. Either at home safely tucked away in a box, or taped up on my wall in my room, or taped up on my wall in my apartment. I hoarde, I treasure, I guard jealously and snap at anyone who attempts to take or damage said objects of inestimable value, much in the manner of a deranged chihuaha. (No offense meant to Diego, Ailei.) Oh, I have your emails, too. Yup. Every single one of them. Let me show you my hotmail inbox sometime. Every time I check it, it informs me that I am approaching capacity. You know why? Because every single goddamn email that you have ever sent me, even if it was only 2 lines to tell me I left my shirt/swimsuit/bra/badger/vibrator/what-h
Now that I've convinced every last man-jack of you that I am some kind of psychotic maniac, I'll tell you about the REST of my day. After posting last entry, I changed into my Skirt of Many Colours (think: every crayon in the big Crayola box? The one with 100 different colors? Yeah, my skirt.) and went to class. Yeah, I know, pretty freaking boring. I had a million different interesting thoughts during religious studies, mainly because my professor dances around all the subjects without ever actually managing to tell us anything of value (Native American religions were often deeply tied to nature! Many of them had shamans! NO SHIT SHERLOCK!) English was better, much better in fact, but because I have the attention span of a nervous ferret, I spent much of it trying to subtly ogle the hot guy to my diagonal right.
Now I'm going to END this retarded post and go do something that hopefully be at least semi-productive and worthwhile.
First off, if you are in my friends list? I read your livejournal. No, I do. Religiously. As in, several times a day. And if I suck and haven't put you on my friends list yet, it doesn't mean I don't love you, it means what I just said: I suck. I am, in fact, the dictionary definition of A.D.D. and cannot be content to merely check LJ once a day but must do so every time I arrive home in the apartment and the slightest possible chance exists that someone has posted an entry about the state of their earwax or perhaps their Great Aunt Ruthy's athritis, even though it's only been an hour, if that, since I left the damn building.
What's worse, I'll do this little deal: Check LJ. Check to make sure I've read everyone's entries. Hit re-load to see if perhaps anyone has posted in the time it took me to read. Scroll down and read all the comments everyone ELSE has made on your entries. Make comments if I'm feeling witty or have something to contribute. Check my email. Delete massive amounts of junkmail. Hit re-load. Pout at computer screen for a bit when the only mail I've received is someone wanting to enlarge my non-existent penis. Check Scary-Go-Round. Check my cell phone, which is on silent all day while I'm in classes, to see if anyone has called, which of course they haven't. Check Livejournal again. Contemplate checking my school email, half-heartedly playing spider solitaire and wishing desperately that I still had a file downloading program. Check LJ again.
This process takes up, I shit you not, at least a half hour of my time each time I do it. Fact is, not only do I read your entries, I re-read them, and re-read them again, BECAUSE I AM RETARDED. So you see, the only thing this is telling you is that I AM OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE AND SHOULD BE LOCKED AWAY IN A PADDED CELL FOR THE REST OF MY NATURAL LIFE. (Preferably with Patrick Murphy or Johnny Depp. Or both.)
I don't think you people quite comprehend how utterly idiotic I am. Every picture, CD, sketch, gift, photo, doodle you crapped out while high on opium that you HAVE EVER GIVEN ME, I have. Yes, I do. Either at home safely tucked away in a box, or taped up on my wall in my room, or taped up on my wall in my apartment. I hoarde, I treasure, I guard jealously and snap at anyone who attempts to take or damage said objects of inestimable value, much in the manner of a deranged chihuaha. (No offense meant to Diego, Ailei.) Oh, I have your emails, too. Yup. Every single one of them. Let me show you my hotmail inbox sometime. Every time I check it, it informs me that I am approaching capacity. You know why? Because every single goddamn email that you have ever sent me, even if it was only 2 lines to tell me I left my shirt/swimsuit/bra/badger/vibrator/what-h
Now that I've convinced every last man-jack of you that I am some kind of psychotic maniac, I'll tell you about the REST of my day. After posting last entry, I changed into my Skirt of Many Colours (think: every crayon in the big Crayola box? The one with 100 different colors? Yeah, my skirt.) and went to class. Yeah, I know, pretty freaking boring. I had a million different interesting thoughts during religious studies, mainly because my professor dances around all the subjects without ever actually managing to tell us anything of value (Native American religions were often deeply tied to nature! Many of them had shamans! NO SHIT SHERLOCK!) English was better, much better in fact, but because I have the attention span of a nervous ferret, I spent much of it trying to subtly ogle the hot guy to my diagonal right.
Now I'm going to END this retarded post and go do something that hopefully be at least semi-productive and worthwhile.