1. Thursday, May 23, 2002

    i have my critics 

    i guess everyone does. but my critics are lazy. i have a lot to attack, but they always go for the most obvious things.

    date a girl for while who’s 19 and they say i like younger chicks. date a girl with big boobs and they’ll say im a boob man. date a hawaiian nba cheerleader and they’ll say ive got asian fever.

    bor-ring.

    this is why people dont go to your web page, idiots.

    anyone can see that im an extremely equal-opportunity dater, and you cant even call me a player since my relationships last years and years. so if you’re going to criticize me, at least do it in an area where i dont kick your ass repeatedly.

    like felching.

    from what i hear you’re quite skilled there. so brag about it, tell the world im rotten at it, then sign your damn name to it, you pathetic hump. and dont lie and say that you’ve been my friend for years and you know me because i live in a fantasy world where none of my friends talk shit about each other. we love each other. we have for years and we will forever. it’s disgusting in its sweetness. bizarre, really.

    and it’s not even as cliquish as you’d think. layne didnt go to ucsb, nor did axel, or monty, or emmanuelle, or a lot of people who you’ll see at the tsar shows or at the rustic or any place featuring mc brown, which is what keeps it fresh and fun and interesting — and normal.

    my friends are real people who are intelligent and creative and open minded and loving and beautiful– and we dont talk shit about each other cuz the only thing that we could diss each other for is for not taking the world by the cajones and turning the whole place into what we have here.

    cynthia lander, miss venezuela knows a thing or two about cajones. her great uncle was Ezequiel Zamora, one of the most beloved and important leaders her country ever had. defender of the federation, fighter for the poor.

    75 young women will vie for the crown of Miss Universe and cynthia has refused to hold back. who doesn’t love a latin lady who isnt afraid to show a little leg? who doesnt love a woman who won her country’s crown a blonde— a gorgeous blonde— but has chosen to keep it real for the big pageant?

    bonne chance, my little 20 year old bonita petite fleur.

    viva la revolution!