Ah, the good ol' VC...

Surprised?  I'll bet you are.  It's been quite a while, my xanga friends.  I say so optimistically, of course, because I'm sure in reality every one of you have given up and left me and my sad journal for dead.  I just thought it might be nice to write a bit before my last final.  I could study, but it's music, and it's the only bullshit class I have, so I figure I can afford to put off studying for a bit.

So, 11 finals and three semesters through college, and I think I might want to change my major.  The more time I spend around pre-med people in this school, the less I want to hang out with them, much less become one of them.  I mean, being a doctor would be noble and practical, in that I would help people and overcharge them at the same time, and yet it seems like such a waste of time (or as my good friend a bond would have said, "suck a waste of time").  It's not like I'd rather settle for the road of mediocracy/democracy, but it seems as though I'm in the same dilemma as Tom Sawyer; it's not that heaven is a bad place, but he'd much rather go to hell and be with all his friends.

Anyway, you should probably just ignore that last paragraph.  It seems as though my writing style has degraded to that of a third-grader, and it's not just the crayons I've been eating.  And I was foolish and threw the football around a bit today, so of course I threw my arm out the day before my music final, during which I have to write two essays.  Hey, speaking of football, the BCS is such bs.  I think the Rose Bowl should pull out of its contract with the BCS and go back to hosting Pac-10 vs. Big-10 matchups like it has for the past...bunch of years.  Now the Texas Longhorns are going to play Michigan, while we get shipped further south to San Diego to play Texas Tech in the Holiday Bowl.  Oh well.  On the bright side, Tedford signed a five-year contract with Cal, so it looks like he's going to be here longer than I (hopefully, that is).

Oh, I also had an a cappella concert a few weeks ago.  I think we put on quite an entertaining show, and my new nickname is "bush perv".  I unveiled some comedic silver and had a good time, and that's what it's all about, isn't it?  And by "it", I of course mean the government.

It will be nice to get a break from all the schoolwork and such and go home this Christmas.  My dad moved, though, so I guess home belongs to somebody else now, and my new home is in Long Beach.  I guess it's the same furniture, only arranged in a more vertical fashion.  I also get to see my favorite bird again, so that makes everything much better.  Oh, and family and friends and all those other people too.

So for those of unfortunate enough to still have finals left, I sympathize with you and leave you these lyrics to cheer you up:

Whenever life gets you down
Keeps you wearing a frown
And the gravy train has left you behind
And when you're all out of hope
Down at the end of your rope
And nobody's there to throw you a line

If you ever get so low that you don't know which way to go
Come on and take a walk in my shoes
Never worry bout a thing
Got the world on a string
Cus I've got the cure for all of my blues (all of his blues)

I take a look at my enormous penis
And my troubles start a-meltin' away
I take a look at my enormous penis
And the happy times are coming to stay

I got a sing and a dance when I glance in my pants
And the feeling's like a sunshiney day
I take a look at my enormous pe-e-e-nis
And everything is goin' my way

If that didn't bring a smile to your face, I simply have one question for you: who put cookies in his mouth?

It's a hot night.  The mind races.  You think about your knife, the only friend who hasn't betrayed you, the only friend who won't be dead by sunup.  Sleep tight, mates, in your quilted chambray nightshirts.

Wish I could take credit for this, but instead I credit the heuristic squelch...

The future of child abuse isn't physical, it's psychological.

Technique #1: Constantly inflate and crush their hopes.

Dad: Merry Christmas, Suzy! [gives present]

Suzy: I love you daddy! [opens present to reveal dead 'possum] AHHHHH!

Dad: What?  I thought you wanted a Playstation!

Technique #2: Give them compliments that aren't really compliments; this will confuse them in lieu of building self-esteem.

Mom: [Affectionately] Oh Suzy, you're looking so ironic today.

Suzy: Thanks.  I think.

Mom: And little Timmy!  Don't you look just like a little Prussian?

Timmy: Um...yes?

Technique #3: Give them patently false information.

Timmy: Mom, what's a homosexual?

Mom: Where in the world did you hear that word?

Timmy: In Sunday school, Pastor said being homosexual is a sin.

Mom: Well Timmy, a homosexual is someone who's under 10 years old.

Timmy: But I'm only 9!  Does that mean--

Mom: I'm afraid so.

Timmy: [Starts to cry]

Mom: You know, crying is like punching Jesus.

Technique #4: Expose them to emotionally scarring situations.

Timmy: Daddy, where are we driving?

Dad: Well son, we're going to a really magical place.

Timmy: Is it a teddy bear picnic?

Dad: Kind of.

Timmy: Are the teletubbies--

Dad: It's a porno theatre.

[Silence]

Timmy: Why are we driving through the woods to get there?

Dad: So we can hit some animals on the way.

[Thu-thump]

Timmy: [crying] So...many...Playstations.

Well, there's more, but I think you guys should grow up, make some babies, and discover your own ways to irreversibly scar them and give them the greatest gift of all: emotional baggage.