2004-07-21
Not Dead And Still Broke
hearing: Cats fighting
reading: The Count Of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, and Java 2 For The World Wide Web: Visual Quickstart Guide by Dori Smith
wearing: pj spaghetti strap tank top and underwear
Ok, so I'm really not dead. I know, I know, some rare random diary viewers might find this extremely disappointing, although the rest of you are probably relieved.
As my lovely friends pointed out in comments, I can't actually die. I mean, that would mean I was dead. Snuffed out of existence. Defeated...by a wall. Pffttt... No, I did a whole lot more damage to that wall in at attempt to snuff out my boring existence than it did to me in its attempt to put an end to my life and all the awful singing I put it through. It's recuperating. Slowly but surely. Sure it's a little cracked now and everything, but nothing terrible.
Although I am very disappointed because I didn't get a single cent out of that endeavor and the subsequent four hours I spent as a purple crayon (yeah, I admit, I shifted existence and was almost dead for four hours. But if the Princess Bride taught us anything, there is a slight difference between all dead, and mostly dead). See, my goal is, for everyone to pity my poor (in both senses) family who now have to pay funeral and cremation expenses for me. And everyone should then donate money to this pseudo address to help pay the (enormous) expenses of preparing the body of such a great potential leader as I was for passing into the afterlife. Everyone was suppossed to be filling my "pyramid".
But of course, my family was never going to see a cent of this money. I was just going to slyly pocket it and run off to Europe. And buy things. Shiny things. Lots and lots of shiny things.
Ok, it's a lame plan filled with holes. Although I never considered it long enough to work them all out. But you got me, that's my plan. So shoot me... you can pay for my "hospital bills" (I almost typed hospital billys! Whaaaaaaa?!?!?!?)
No, I really don't know where all this nonsense comes from either. I'm really sorry that I'm so lame. Every day I get in a good mood I exert enormous efforts to be witty/cutting/humourous. And every day, I fall flat on my face. So hard that my nose bleeds.
Anyway, let's hop topics again, and I am going to urge everyone over to my 62 93 things page. Because I've got new stuff. Start at about number sixty-three (for those who've read it before) and you are going to find tucked in there, little sparkling gems of Megan trivia heretofore unreleased.
Megan trivia...HAHA. I need my own lame little game show now. Riiiiiight.
Now let's drastically change view point, and settle our eyes on that which Megan does best. Serious, pathetic drama. Ow. Hot. And we'll throw in an allusion to my chronically dissembling behavior lately. Oops. Too late. Already made it.
Why all the lieing? How far will this take you?(CHANGE SUBJECT)
All words and no action
You're all words and no action
Everyone these days is all words and no action
You're nothing more than empty promises
Suddenly, I am inspired to break into poetry based off of these stale, week old, vague mental disclosures. Maybe after I pass out on the sofa...