Well, another slight diary change. I figured--as I seem to write more than one entry per day half the time, and because I really deem in nessecary that everyone sees Blixa's heroin-addled eighties bod--I may as well put in that older entries hoohaa.

Which will be a challenge, as I'll now have to think of sort-of creative titles for my entries. And my loathing of all things title should, by now, be infamous. Christ, I named a GAY PORN STORY AFTER A MR. T EXPERIENCE SONG. I'll do anything to get out of making up my own title.

I am a bit hesitant for it, though. I don't like having the sidebar longer than the page, and now it's quite a bit longer. But the older entries looked like shit on the bottom bar, so I did my best. I really am hoping, someday, for a superkickass redesign. This will happen never.

I did get the essay from hell done; such is why I'm in a good-ish mood. I still can think about what utter shite it was, though. For some reason I quite abhor writing those essays--mostly because my professor is a stickler for that whole "I want to hear your personal voice thing." Which is all fine and well, if you're not writing about The Border Passage.

To make myself feel better, I ordered Nick Cave's Let Love In and Einsturzende Neubauten's Drawings of Patient O.T. last night. I still have money in my checking account, and my music addiction demands I spend it all. Last night, also, Anne burned for me Placebo's first (self-titled) album. It roxxorz. As usual.

I really, really want this, however. I should order it next. I love seeing photos of Nick and the boys, and, unfortunately, the internet community isn't as full of photos of them as I may wish. While Angel in Devil's Boots is actually pretty good for photos of Nick, it's really hard to find photos of the rest of the band--even Blixa, who has his own influential group. Sure, you can find plenty of pics of the ladies Nick's done duets with--P.J. Harvey, Kylie Minogue, the lot--but they don't really count.

It's fun, being a fangirl of something you can't really be a fangirl for. Ah well, at least the music is terrific.

Oh, and VK? It's called the "typical college sex drive from HELL." You're in Seattle. You've got male escort services. GO FOR IT. Seriously, man. During college, no matter HOW many buddies you can get, there seems to be an elevated need for gettin' some or hooking up with someone. Kinda odd, I know. It's just some fun, good ol' fashioned needin' some lovin'. We've all got it over here.

And Kat? You're still not a psychic. And he still might be a NICE whore. I don't know what to tell you, man. I'd say go up there, anyway, even if you have to leave the tool behind.

Speaking of tools... Oh, christ, I already let Elizabeth send it to y'all anyway. But you KNOW YOU WANT IT AGAIN.

It's just so terrible. Someone get Jack Fairy on those eyebrows--AND THAT PUBIC BUSH. Christ, he needs a weedwacker to go through that...

Well, I'm off to class, on that pleasant note. Hope for a more entertaining/coherant entry later...