What's on My Mind

Taste of my own medicine, Funny shit

September 30, 2003

Last night, Sunday night, TW got the most hits it has ever gotten on a Sunday Night. If 57 more visitors would have came by, 23,000 hits would have been recorded. That's not amazing. That's fucking insane. I'm so shocked. The Hot Babe Contest is bringing in so much traffic. I hope it continues, because as we continue the contest, we will be getting bigger and stronger.

As we get closer to the Senior Hot Babe Contest, keep in mind the Freshmen one is nearly about to end. This Friday, you the voters will select the finalists. These fianalists will be highly publisized next week on flyers, along with the Senior voting flyers. I didn't make many sophomore flyers, but this week you will be seeing tons of flyers, tons upon tons. Get ready. TW is taking over the planet, aka school.

Before I continue my column, I would like to make the biggest shoutout to someone who I could not live without right now. It's actually a male. Josh McAlpin, who lately I've become really close with, has almost single-handedly taken 2/3 the pictures for the sophomore class. Without him, the sophomore contest would have been a disaster. In turn, it was a half-way success (lots of people won that I was surprised at). Thank you so much Josh, and we all love you, and I'm still trying to figure out who's the bigger whore, you or Uriel.

I would like to make a smaller but still big shoutout to one of my best friends Kelly Kincl, who randomizes all the contests. He makes me happy and such. And if you're a girl and you don't like your opponent, its all his fault. He has large sausage and it tastes well with Marble Slab ice cream. Very Unorthodox...

It's been at least a year since I've publically talked about myself on TW, but I think the time is now. Many of you have been asking questions, worrying about me, but I have to tell you, I'm fine. I'm also a hypocrite. Many of you do the same. You give excellent advice, but you can't take your own advice. I wish I could take a dosage of my own medicine.

I'm not going to publically announce why I've been in the state I am, but let's just say it's not an uncommon condition. But, I have to tell all of you, I'm going to try and take some of my own dosage pills, and try to be happy. Thanks to ALL of you who are helping.

BTW - the reason why my methods aren't working is because the way life is, when you get hit with one obstacle, you get hit with another, and another, and another. This has happened to me a whole lot. Everytime I try to feel better, something hits me STRAIGHT in the fucking asshole, and no, it's not Billy. It's something way worse. It's shit.

Another BTW - to any of you who are confused, the Billy I keep mentioning is Billy Brooks. There's been some rumors I've been saying "shit" about another Billy, but that's not true. I've never have on this website, nor do I even care about what this individual does. If this was a shit-talking web-site, I'd be blaming the individuals causing my sadness in huge letters.

I apologize to all of you, even the people who I'm speaking of, cause they obviously know who they are. I'm not one to bring my personal life on TW, and don't think I'm trying to lay all this shit on you. I'm just basically telling you, I'm fighting everything, and I shall have a vaccination of my name delivered to me by Friday.

P.S. Thank you to all of you who congratulated me on the article I wrote in the Baytown Sun, anyone who said I did a great job on The Tempest play (Billy says thanks too!) and anyone who stopped by to say great work for making Honor Society. I love you guys. All of you. And you know I wouldn't be here without you. Thanks Rachey for being my best buddy and going with me to homecoming. I love you! And thanks to Tommy for eating queso y such, and thanks to Blake who decided to spin me around in a circle for over a minute in the auditorium today.

Funny Stuff

Billy publically wanted me to announce the winner of a bet we had today, and I'm proud to say, I'm that fucking winner.

Here's how it started: We were at Marble Slab, and obviously, all of you know how fucking cheap I am. I'm Italian for god sakes, I might as well be a fucking Jew. Anyway, I'm just in there, looking at the high prices. Then I realize, I could get double the treat at Dairy Queen. All I was thinking about was quantity, not quality.

"Billy, lets just go to Dairy Queen instead for my ice cream" - Me
"Dude, there isn't a Dairy Queen in the middle of Baytown" - Billy
"Dude, on Main, remember?" - Me
"Dude, Bamboo Express took it's place" - Billy
"No it fucking didn't, it's a seperate building" - Me
"Dude you assreamer, no it's not!" - Billy
"I will bet you Billy, the price of your pint of ice cream, there is a Dairy Queen on Main" - Me
"Dude you are so fucking on" - Billy

We drive and we start going down Main. Suddenly Billy says, "You know, I'm starting to have my doubts, but I'm standing true to my word."

Five minutes later, the three favorite words comes out of Billy's mouth. "....God damn it."

Billy bought me a sundae. Now, here's where Billy got payback. When I went home to sleep today, and I got up after a beautiful nap, I had this sharp pain in my stomach. No, it couldn't be! Dairy Queen...was now going to be Queen of Shit.

I shat. I shat a lot. I shat so much. I clean off. I get up. "NO YOU FUCKING JEW, NO! YOU SIT BACK DOWN!" That was my stomach. I respectively sat back down.

This is EXACTLY what I told Billy after I got done with my shit:

PsYcHo MaTt 316: dude
PsYcHo MaTt 316: you win, you should have won
PsYcHo MaTt 316: that dairy queen shouldn't fucking exist
aph3x00: won what?
PsYcHo MaTt 316: i was in the bathroom for 30 minutes
PsYcHo MaTt 316: and my asshole feels like being done by a black man
aph3x00: LOLOLOLOLOL
aph3x00: got rape?

What a fucking adventure.

This weekend, lots of funny things happened. Lots of sad things happened. I love you Amy! This weekend was Andrew's birthday. Happy birthday baby girl!

BTW, I would like to now voice my opinions on the Veranda Cafe:

ANY RESTUARANT LIKE THE VERANDA CAFE WHICH CALLS ITSELF ITALIAN IS A GOD DAMN INSULT TO MY FUCKING RACE, PRIDE AND JOY, AND MY FATHER'S HOME. IF YOU CAN'T PUT SALT IN THE WATER OF YOUR PASTA, YOU AREN'T ITALIAN BASED. IF YOU OVERCOOK YOUR PASTA, YOU NEED TO FUCKING DIE. IF YOUR RESTAURANT HAS OVERPRICED FOOD THAT'S SO SHITTY, YOU NEED TO DIE AS WELL.

Jeff's Dad and my dad could fucking destroy the Veranda Cafe. I know Jeff's dad has a touch of American when he cooks cause he was born here, but together, our parents could destroy the Veranda within 20 minutes. No question asked.

Skinnycoot2: it's not just Girl, it's every Girl i've ever known. always the same thing, and nothing right....

And Justin and I have been through the same exact thing, and only he knows what this week will bring. We Are TW.