My profile are teh suck, majordomo, sigh.

It shows me as having, liek, 32 posts. This one is going to be my 42nd for all of you keeping track if you are that's a little stalkerish and if you're also a guy like me then that is teh gay.

Soooo.

Take a deep brizzeath of your izzair, I went out on a limb and bought American Idiot, Thirteenth Step and Civilization III Game of the Year Edition for Mac from Amazon.ca

Total came to 103.50 with tax and free shipping.

Should be here sometime before October, or maybe November.

If possessions made you cool, I'd be out-cooling you all by several kilowatts right now. You'd all have to wear shades. And even if you bought Oakleys you couldn't out-cool me.

But, they don't. Thus this leaves me an over-possessified lunatic. (I think.)

Right now I have teh cizzold and it no likes me. And I reciprocate its lack of harmonious feelings by [bai!] hating its guts with an intense fervour and passion matched only by my love of minute felines and music that's better, heavier and more hardcore than yours.

Not to mention requires more talent.

So hennywayz, after the numerous social breakdowns ensconced into the grand fabric of today, Dan labelled me socially handicapped, or at least socially inept, which under Chapter 3B, Paragraph 42, line 67 of the Quebec Regional, Municipal and Social Bylaws Handbook 1.5 [2002-2003 edition] states that I get the parking space least close to anyone good looking, popular, talented or otherwise awesome.

Aww.

As well, things are all quiet-like [I can be the quietest mouse!] on the Jinstern front. Seems she's intent on keeping our relationship entirely professional, or at least, arts-and-litsional, I dunno. Maybe she just never comes on MSN. We'll see what happens when we're actually forced to work together. Whatever.

Anyhow. I got some good lyrics [relatively speaking] off my chest today so that was some good shit, and I'm be goin' the the Hexpos game tomorra night.

"Coool," you should be saying right now. "I totally envy you, Alex," you should be saying right now. And if you're of the female persuasion, "Let's make out." Or if you're more diversified in your chromosomation, "Let's high-five."

This is, despite its inherent props-deserving nature, starting to drag on, and I have a curfew, er, bedtime, that I want to be in bed by, which is 11:59 PM EST.

So I'll leave you all with this:

"...i am one of those melodramatic fools / neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it / sometimes i give myself the creeps / sometimes my mind plays tricks on me / it all keeps adding up / i think i'm cracking up / am i just paranoid or am i just stoned?..."