Those goddamn Platex tampons!!!  The ads say you can’t feel them, but believe me, a big hunk of plastic popping your cherry hurts like shit every time, and it’s uncomfortable to wear, too.  So I’m ripping off those stupid applicators now and just leaving the cotton.  It always hurts to shove those things up your crotch, but if they don’t have the applicators you can’t feel them once they’re in.  This is a strange thing to talk about (TMI, as Roz would say).  But it’s really been bugging me, especially because I will be forced to wear one tomorrow at the beach with Janine (yep, she’s back from OR!).

On a brighter note, I completed the writing of a total of three songs for the band I will create, EM (Elevator Music).  The only problem is that it will be difficult to find musicians (I need a drummer, a guitarist, a bass guitarist, and a banjoist, as I will be in charge of the singing and sax playing).  And it will be even more difficult to find musicians who will be willing to be bossed around a lot, as I have a very particular idea of how I want the album to be, and I don’t work well in groups anyway.

I’m happy.  My father has a “mean” boss who may fire him.  I know it’s not very nice of me to get pleasure out of hearing such things, but it’s hard to like a father like him.  He makes me feel uncomfortable.  If you’ve read my past entrees you know what I’m talking about.

Mmmm… Sublime.  Good stuff on this CD.  I am listening to one of my favorite tracks, track seven, the one about raping a little girl.  I really like Brad’s voice and all the instrumentalists are amazingly in sync.  And the difficult guitar and drum solos seem effortless for them.  I really should be an album reviewer.  I always have a lot to say after listening to a CD.

Bright Eyes is performing in the Greek Theatre on the 24^th, which is when I have to go on vacation!!!  DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I almost smashed the wall when I heard that a few seconds ago online.  I’m not exaggerating either.  I’m really pissed.  And tickets are only thirty-two bucks!!!  And there are plenty available!!!  But the stupid Colorado trip’s gonna get in the way!!!  I want to cry.  Seriously.  Conor, is, after all, my idol, and has been my musical obsession for the past year.  I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this to arise for ages and here it is, but I have to go on a FUCKING VACATION!!!  AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! @&*$)@(!^%!(*%^(*!%)^(*!&%@(*#RYFH@IU#$&@!*( $&@! $^!*(YHHNCWY@(*$@(*$%^@%^!_%^!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do you know how important this concert is for me??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????!!!!!!  No, you don’t!!!  Nobody understands my obsessions and how heavily my sanity relies on them!!!  It’s painful to imagine Conor’s audience of teary-eyed listeners, all trapped under the spell of his intense, haunting music with that wavering voice howling so powerfully, all without me!

Well, I figured I’d make it up to myself.  So I wrote the Desapareceidos an email addressed to Conor, making an offer to play in his band on my sax (as long as he ignores the occasional squeaks) and also a marriage proposal, though he has enough shit going on in his life without scary stalker-ish people, such as me, trying to marry him.  I also told him he could stay at my place any time he wants when he’s in LA, but he’s obviously going to refuse.