19 June 2003 - 1:05 a.m.

Today instead of packing for my NOVA/Pittsburgh sojourn I played Sims for 284798 hours.

That's a lot of hours.

And one of my Sims recorded a jingle and that put the Klondike jingle in my head, and it made me thing about how we really have to think about what we do here on earth.

Because that guy who wrote the Klondike commerical? Going to hell.

No, it's not for me to judge, but he's still going to hell. I mean, he did a really great thing for his company or client by writing a catchy tune, a tune so catchy that whenever it gets in my head I feel like opening my skully with a can opener and filing away at the back of my eyeballs to get rid of any residue lingering in my brain.

But to annoy so many people to such an extent for ccapitalism? Fot a damn block of ice cream in foil?

Why not just trade your soul for a one-way ticket to land of eternal burning? That way, maybe your friends will still talk to you. If someone close to me wrote the Klondike jingle s/he'd be dead to me. And presumably, therefore, suffering eternal damnation.

Dear God,

Don't worry about helping me to be good, I think I can handle that myself. But please, oh please, Lord, help me not to be grating.

-JP

Speaking of opening your head with a can opener, does anyone remember Brain Games? That was the bomb-ass shit.

Number of wine coolers I've consumed over the past two days: 4.

Number of wine coolers consumed per day: 2.

Number of days, out of two, I have felt somewhat tipsy after said wine coolers: 2.

I feel like the biggest choad there is. Watch me wake up with a hangover.

I had something totally important to say, and now it's gone.

Is it me, or is Wednesday just not the fucking same as it used to be?

What I'm wearing: Yellow linen tank top thingy, olive drab shorts.

What I'm reading: There aren't enough songs about rain for this summer.

What I'm doing after this: Mixing a CD for my car trip, then passing out.