Textual Exhibitionism

LAST FIVE ENTRIES
The Sunday Suicide Ritual - 03.19.06
somnambulism: n, Jeremy on a Sunday night - 03.13.06
careful what you wish, you may regret it... - 03.05.06
somebody gona geta hurt real bad - 02.20.06
=NOT(rain V sleet V dark of night) - 01.31.06

too much cock for an entry by a straight guy - (01.31.05)

To say that I have screwed the pooch on diary updating over the past three months would be an understatement of epic proportions. That would be like the G-O-single-Dizzle saying "yeah, I did ok on Jennifer Connelly. I guess." I'm not sure what has brought me back, though a safe guess would be the hollow feeling in my stomach when I saw how long it had been since I'd updated. Maybe that's not it. Maybe I'm trying my hand at attracting women to me (in hordes, I'm hoping) by emotionally exposing myself in ones and zeros. Or maybe I'll just expose myself. Either way, at this juncture I cannot say with any certainty that the reason for my indefinite return will prove strong enough in its resolve to hold me down and tie me to this diary as I have been in the past. What I can say is that I am bored, tired, and hungry. So let's get down to it.

Now, since my last entry, which my Buddy List tells me was over three months ago, a lot has happened. For example: three months have happened. During which time, a whole bunch of people died in South East Asia, the world's media capitalized on it, scrambling over each other to provide the most indepth and grotesque coverage the censors would allow, Christmas happened (though not in that order), my family went to Harrison Hot Springs for a few days to chill out in the, uh, hot...springs, I drank an entire bottle of rum on New Year's Eve, then another half of one the next weekend, got a call at work from my liver who called in sick, started playing volleyball again, still sucked like a black hole, Robin came back (hurray!!), a whole bunch of my friends from school decided to jump on the Xanga bandwagon, I worked my ass off at work, found it, re-attached it, and the slacked it right back off again, and then I had ice cream tonight. That's my three months in a nutshell. How was yours?

Go ahead. Pretend I care.

There was a time, not so long ago, that I would snicker at, ahem, certain people that would see a DVD, or eleven, and say "I must have this/these DVD(s), for if I do not acquire this/these small disc(s) of plastic, my life will surely be forfeit." I tell you, I would snicker. I have also been known to chortle in such a situation. However! This time of yore I speak of was Before I Had a DVD Player, also known as The Goddamn Stone Age. Since my ~~small step~~ giant leap into this new world of Digital Video Round Things, the snickering and chortling has somewhat dwindled. Indeed the time I once spent snickering and chortling has since been replaced with phrases such as "Ooh, I like this movie" and "Yes, on my debit card, please."

The rapid numerical decent of my chequing account is not entirely without precedent, I should note. It is being purged at a semi-continuous, and rather steep, rate due to my exorbitant consumption of nutrients (a term which is entirely misleading; most of my intake is as far from nutritious as one can get short of eating an airplane), the red ink only barely avoided by a biweekly paycheque deposit. That said, I don't exactly have the tendency of spending hundreds of dollars at a time on meals. Which, you know, good. I'd be out of food in about an hour.

Before I Had a DVD Player, I had only one DVD, which was merely an accompaniment with my Finger Eleven CD. Since that time, The Collection has started to form its basic ground structure, preparing for the immense weight it will eventually have to bear. I received Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Big Lebowski, Good Morning Vietnam, and The Shawshank Redemption as birthday and Christmas gifts. These are all excellent movies, thus their place on my Wish List, which I should mention was comprised entirely of DVD titles, save for the first and last entries, which both read "Jennifer Connelly." These four piqued my interest, and my decline into obsession has since become the stuff of myths. From the beginning of the new year to this point, Shaun of the Dead, Family Guy Seasons 1&2, Firefly, American History X, Seven, Band of Brothers and the Battlestar Galactica mini-series (apparently the last copy in the Lower Mainland) have joined their forefathers in my fancy-pants TV stand.

My only hope is that this onslaught of purchases, all of which have been a long time coming, has melted the magnetic strip on my debit card, thereby sticking a Band-Aid over the leak in the Hoover Dam. But it's not even one of the Wet-Flex ones that don't come off when you want them to. It's one of those cheap knock-offs that are about as powerful as a Post-It note.

I am going to try my best at feigning will-power and holding off on making further purchases. While it's true I've already seen everything that I now own, I should probably make an effort to at least remove them from the plastic wrapping and watch them. Otherwise, what's the damn point? Well, there is a certain pride to be taken in your collection, I suppose. It's like having a big cock and waving it around the dressing room. Except here The Cock is The Collection and The Dressing Room is The Internet.

Problem is that certain people have been surgically enhanced, so to speak.

To answer Matt's question:

4900. I know starting a sentence with a number is a faux pas, but I think it's a little more effective than "four thousand nine hundred megabytes." For those of you not caught up on your multiplication tables, that averages to 700 MB per day, ranging anywhwere from a paltry 175 on Sundays to just shy of 2 GB on Mondays. I guess that sort of makes up for my small ~~dick~~ DVD collection.

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