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Sunday, February 22, 2004

In True Schrock Form
As it usually happens with those of us who have spent our college years the middle social echelon, I spend last evening wandering from party to party being either thoroughly bored or making a giant ass of myself. However, the excitement of the evening took place hours before the festivities began when Sara and I made a stellar batch of 28 "kenyan" samosas. The preparation of the hour and a half long meal would have been excitement enough if I hadn't decided to up the ante by sticking two of my fingers in the boiling hot vat of oil where the samosas where supposed to go. After having spent the night in wrapped in gauze and in critical condition, both fingers are doing much better but remain bright red from mid-finger to the tip and are still tender to the touch. Oh God, the typing, the typing, it's me death, oh the pain, the pain...ha ha, I can still type, nothing will stop me from typing on my computer, it's mine, and I love it and we will have many babies together. MINE!!!

p.s. fuck you steve buchemilienimineevee, how the hell am I supposed to give up from 10-8 for a whole fucking month if I plan to fucking graduate, I hate you, I want you, I hate you, damn you STEVE!! I hate you. ARrrggg, I'm so torn. I could have been involved with an independed film production company, my dream, my desire, the perfect job, I would have fucking sone anything for you, I hate you steve, but, God, I'd love to be a part of your fucking film. just let me be a camera intern and a graduate, that's all I ask.

p.p.s. Isn't "aposer" a funny non-word

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