Can You Find the French Word in This Entry?


If my Indian grandparents (biological) ever heard Incorporeal, I think they'd try to arrange a marriage avec Nick 13.

~Erin

P.S. I'm allowed to poke fun, silly! I have his nose after all. Dude! I found out yesterday my middle name isn't "Trisha". It's "Trishna". Sweeeeetness.

I'll Be Okay!


I don't know what it is about Death By Stereo, but their songs will NOT download. GRR. I want to see if they live up to all that sweet hype.

We went to the grandparent's cottage today. I think I grew up the second I heard my cute, polite British nan sudden spew about how much she wanted Johnny Depp. And then my Gramps looked up from over his paper and said in his proffesional Cheltenham accent, "Yes, I think he was rather good in Finding Neverland." Ach.
If that wasn't weird enough, she made us pizza for lunch and chocolate ice cream for dessert- PIZZA! No crumpets? No lovely gormet chili and beef stew? No fricken custard and toffee truffles? NANNY? Are the hic-ishly bad and lazy habits of your daughters family getting to you? If I see you scratching your bottom or cursing anything other than "bloody", I'm taking away your Avon.

In other news, never let me forget to take my pills EVER again. I went through withdrawl today. Here are some of the symptoms:

-anorexia (severe loss of appetite of weight) (not totally complaining there)
-anxiety
-confusion
-CONVULSIONS
-dizziness
-fatigue
-hypomania (rapid moodswings)
-insomnia
-nausea
-parethesia (sensation of burning, tingling or crawling of the skin) (this would make a sweet song title)
-electric shock sensations (EEE! Make them stop!)
-ringing in the ears
-vertigo (sensation that the world is spinning)
-AND vomitting

Yet somehow, I LOVE beign sick. What's that called? Hypochondria or something? Masochism? Love of ilness, love of pain, love of helplessness and having control ripped from your hands. Yeah, that's what I thought.
...

DOWNLOAD YOU COW-POUNDER!

~Erin

Oh He's Not Dead Yet- He Hasn't Got His Eyepatch *Loves BJ*

These are the new colours of my room. They are calm. They represent me (and yes, that's my black cat, lovely kitty Salem-whom I named at age 8, stfu). What colours did my kid-sister, Laura choose for her room? One half neon pink and one half neon purple. Maybe I'll post a picture later, but right now I'd like to focus on NOT blinding the few innocent Internet surfers who stumble here- and Megan. Heh.

I'm going through a slightly rough patch right now, what with three close friends on the suicide ideals. Slashing, shooting and cutthroating. I won't say who, but I will say it hurts me. Maybe it's a selfish thing to proclaim, but when the people you depend on - all of them - depend on you, it's sort of like a slap in the face laced with guilt. "I should've paid more attention", "I shouldn't have said that"; it all crashes down on you and adds to the weight you carry trying to keeep them happy. Yet at the end of the day, the fact that they chose to stay in our world, to stick around with me outweighs the pain they cause when they tell me what they've done to themselves. You're all alive. That keeps me alive. Don't die without me, loves. All that's been proven is that life is all we really have. Mine is meaningless without yours.

In other news, I need to see LF!DF! nowplease. I lost my Art Of Drowning CD and that makes me sad. Dial-up continues to let me down, BUT somebody I don't know comment on my second entry, down there. It's lovely. Aussie MOIST shampoo smells like the inside of a pumpkin. It's kinda nice actually.

Cultures I've been mistaken for last month: Pakistani, Lebanese, Greek (that's new), Egyptian, Italian, and Turkish. If you ever have the pleasure of someone thinking you are from their country, you'll learn it's a wonderfully deep compliment you find yourself reluctant to correct.

Common ground makes the world go round,

Erin

Pantine is a Delicacy

Eh, c'est moi! In the polka-dot monster I could not live without. No, I did not take this myself, unlike... actually, I'm not in an insulting mood today... I also look like a 10-year-old here, but what can you do?

In other news I had a dream Jack Sparrow was chasing me and my friend trying to smell our hair. I rain off the Black Pearl (which was tied up) and all around the wharf going "EEEEEE!!!" Eventually, I failed to see the point and I stopped and he was quite nice. He said pirates don't get to smell shampoo often, because they're always out at sea. So I hugged him and he smelled like really warm leather and cinnamon. And my friends were all "LEIK OMG! h0r!" And then I woke up.

Not much else is going on- I'm having trouble accepting the fact that there's only one month of summer left. And this time, there's no killer Green Day concert to end it with a bang. (psst AFI come to Ottawa!!). My god I wish I lived in San Fransisco. I also wish I was born in 1970, so I guess it's useless to wish once you've been born. I won't mention the ninjas then...

Death to fruit flies,
Erin