random
ok so i have a crush, her name is Anne Hathaway; gorgeous, funny, caring, rocking hot bod, the total package.
Since i feel so strongly about this, i decided to find her on the most useful person finder ever - facebook.
sadly, there’s about 400 girls pretending to be one.
so, i messaged them all, hoping for the best, so far… im still waiting, but im sure she’s just nervous about getting approached by a man with huge balls (refer to my religion) for the first time in a long time, as she’s recently on the market.
though, i stalk… i mean, discuss my feelings about anne with a bit of trepidation, as we’ve never met, and i can only base her personality and such as seen in her films, this is a young but nonetheless budding romance, soon to blossom into something more than i can describe, possibly some sex maybe a seafood dinner.
its the classic story of david and goliath, except in this case goliath is really a super hot babe who is famous, and david, is actually darryl.
really, the only similarities are that im awesome, and david is also a man.
i feel as though billy joel might have said it best as he described this unfurling love in that she is an uptown girl living in her uptown world and im a downtown man… thats what i am.
though, billy joe royal also has a case with his classic hit down in the boondocks. this is pretty much my lifestyle compared to the posh live of miss hathaway.
anyone see the devil wears prada? i didn’t either, but i hear some of the garbs she dons herself in cost more than my car. i’d have to believe this since my ride is worth about the same as a tank of gas. not bad huh?
anne - if you see this, i think we should mate. no, you didn’t just throw up in your mouth a lil, thats the taste of love.
so, my bimbo gal pal friend amy was telling me about the pride parade and discussed with me some pictures of gay mens and their nakedness.
seems old gay men have penis’ that look like fat croissants with anorexic wiener poking out the front. picture this.
not only will it make you NOT hungry (so you can become anorexic yourself) but you’ll feel better about being you, and not an old gay man with a crazy looking junk pile.
to conclude this note, i’ve added a contest, prize is dinner of your choice, on me.
unlike most contests, this one is open to residents of quebec despite the obvious handicap of being french.
all you have to do is figure out what the common theme here is, and also which my favourite part of this picture is.
simple. andddd go!
Ps. katy perry - i also kissed a girl, and i always like it, unless i don’t.
This might just be my favourite time of year, next to halloween, christmas, your birthday and maybe my own.
Regardless, I get really pumped up because I get to compete at something I’m actually good at; spelling.
Sure, its against a bunch of children half my age, but Guyvash Patel has a moustache, and he’s 12… or is he?
It really validates my life to know I can spell better than kids. Knowing I spell better than children makes me wonder and contemplate if I am in fact better at everything.
There’s no way to know, except for how much I’ll discuss it.
It’s pretty funny when you see a kid misspell a word that you’ve probably never heard of before, and may possibly never hear or better yet even use yourself. Its the ultimate test of brain and brawn, since its an educational ass kicking of other brainy nerds. I mean, how would you possibly study for this? Reading the dictionary only takes you so far; suppose you read everything up till the letter R, and they drop a bomb on you like Schwarmerei, German root, meaning excessive enthusiasm or sentimentality.
Yes, this word is how I won the 2006 Spelling Bee, in the comfort of my own home beating some punk with glasses and a stutter.
This year, sadly to my dismay I was ousted in the final round when the judges decided I’d be Hiroshima, and they would hit me with that A-Bomb: Numnah.
Sameer Mishra thought it was numb nuts, giving me an edge… but then he pulled through and got it. I failed. He also spelled Guerdon, not bad eh?
Anyways, I’m out.
dear leona lewis,
since you will undoubtedly read this, i want to make marriage to you, possibly some kids. your green eyes and skin as smooth as creamery butter make all the warning signs and buzzers in my head go off and chime like a church bell during priest fun hour.
when i hear your song on the radio or on my computer cuz i downloaded it rather than buy the album since i didn’t really want to support your record company, and i know that the money spent on the album would ultimately be ours anyways (due to the marriage) it seems redundant.
in her song she states that she doesn’t care what they say, she’s in love with me. that means a lot. i mean, im only one man. i didn’t invent the wheel or build the eiffel tower (with muscle and brawn) but im able to pitch a pretty good tent. i figure that counts for something.
you’re hot and have a voice that makes babies stop crying, and maybe prevent shitting themselves. to quote that old hag sleazeball madonaa, when you speak “its like angels sighing.” wow, does that not make your pants tighter? yeah, mine are.
also, i was watching a movie to which the name escapes me, but this one dude had a lazy eye and he was gawking all over the room like it was his job.
his broad was sitting there all hot and seemingly a bit bothered, but not by his eye, which was cavorting and flirtatiously staring at every woman in the room right in front of her, but it was something else. is this acceptable behaviour, since he cant really help where is lame eye is going? i think its pretty smart. you can check out multiple babes and piss off no one. genius.
im thinking maybe if i sleep with my contacts in for a few more days, the burning feeling will leave, and i’ll be left with an eyes that floats around in the socket and thus my goal has been attained.
they say its the little things in life that make the big difference, im very biased towards this, as a small thing like this could make me happier than i am currently. for years i’ve been trying to find new and innovative ways to help my fellow man ogle hot babes or just in general live life without feeling held back on account of them being repugnant or having one bushy eyebrow, or breath that resembles roadkill or a steaming pile of garbage thats been sitting in the sun for too long. leveling the playing field is fair. also, i do this for fun, and it entertains.
its like being at the grocery store and you see a midget reaching for something thats JUST out of reach. so you laugh a bit, then help out.
that can be all the difference between a shitty day, and a great day, as you’ve now made a new friend, and have a story to tell your friends, if you’ve got any cuz you’re a sick sick person with no morals.
uh, i need sleep.
bye diary.
ps. nice ass, can i be friends with it?
i was watching porn last night as i didn’t go out and was getting kinda antsy around midnight and it started getting boring fast. i mean, its been a while since i’ve gotten any which wasn’t helping. but the people in the porn started looking like people i know. in the first scene two girls were getting all naked with each other and suddenly started eating strawberries. i was hoping they’d make me some fruit salad with fondue, but that didn’t really work out. suddenly one of them bent over and transformed into my grade 7 english teacher, who for the record was gorgeous and i was in L with. sadly, the other girl started looking a lot like my friend who’ll remain nameless, but i was disgusted and had to turn it off. my boner fully slain of anything sexual, was resorted to doing nothing. i then watched the office and fantasized about how much fun it would be to work in an environment surrounded by awesome people and dwight.
back on track for a second, have you ever tried watching different types of porn for varieties sake, ie one with a plot (right…) or animals, or fetish?
me neither, but im curious and want to kill time.
story time: back in the day, like we’re talking years ago when i was young and naive, i nearly got caught watching stuff involving women and themselves.
it was like discovery channel, but everyone was naked and had toys.
anyhow, my heart was racing similar to that of a raccoon drunk with ambition as he saunters towards the highway, i couldn’t wait to see what was on the other side, i mean… what happended next.
well, what happened was people walked in the room, and i had to cover up with my science textbook. lucky for me it was like 800 pages and pretty heavy. it took care of the situation. sadly, i was hurt, and offended, more embarrassed than anything, but no one would be the wiser.
i just read some boring drivel about feminism and politics. im pretty sure i’ll never be aroused again, its a sad day in the life of darryl, one of many to be sure.
i’ve stopped keeping track, as im fairly confident those days outweigh the good.
till next time, <3
ok, im not gonna go into the history of women and all that business, but as most people know (its a scientific fact actually) that women have a tendency to need and more specifically want things that are generally ridiculous. point in case, flowers.
what is the need for flowers? sure, its the thought of getting something that matters most, so why not just say “i thought of getting you flowers… but didn’t” then expect a bj or something equally good, like breakfast, bacon included. am i selfish to think this is a bit extreme? guys don’t want or need flowers and trivial shit to make us happy. really, a beer, some wings and possibly a good sporting event is adequate.
anyways, back on track; flowers are stupid. you know they’re gonna die, but yet you still take care of them and feed them water and all that.
you know what, i have a modest proposal - you like taking care of things that are gonna die anyways, i may as well get you a terminally ill child.
think about it. its a thoughtful gift, you can care for it, and unlike a flower, you can interact and potentially bond… then one day, lil timmy doesn’t answer you and into the garbage he goes.
you know after a while you water those flowers and the petals start falling off and you’re like “uh oh… i know where this is headed.” yeah, same goes for when timmy is in the bath and you notice skin samples drifting away from his body as the leprosy really kicks it into 5th or even 6th gear, if he’s a really powerful case.
simple math here.
flowers + time = wilting and death.
timmy + time = refer to above.
there is no hidden variable, which is kind of sad, but beautifully tragic. almost poetic in a way. makes me wanna riverdance and shout out words that have meanings.
furthermore, i’d like to add that im not insensitive, im a realist. im more than willing to buy a girl flowers, i just haven’t yet cuz… well thats a separate issue we’ll deal with next time.
good night, and thanks for stopping by, but mostly stay classy.