i think i should get the blarg of the day award just for writing from work. and for those who know or don't know (that'd be everyone duh), that's gotta be some kind of accomplishment because of several reasons: 1.) it's not my real work, it's not my computer, and it's not my time to be doing something like this, 2.) someone, anyone, could look over my shoulder and see marc or zook's blarg and catch a few words that i shouldn't be looking at, and 3.) cause i'm ME dammit.

onwards.

i am looking forward to friday eve with high hopes and low blows. can't wait for another week o' rock. can you say funky cold medina? i don't know why i wrote that.

if zachary is home or near home, he is probably only minutes away from where i now sit. i can almost hear his movies and music right now (on at the same time of course).

here's my history, for those who care: one day in ought 8 i was born, 19 years later marc fell into my life because he spotted me wearing a certain band t-shirt and out of nowhere, he asked if i saw sugar ray get electrocuted at the previous summer's warped tour. now of course i did because like everyone else in this world i hate that group, but marc contininued to ask me this question each proceeding time i saw him in the dorm for the next year. WITHOUT doing it on purpose. no lie. ask him if you want, i speak the truth. zook falls into the scene because he lived on the same floor as rick, fellow musician, who marc was playing some tunes with. zook and i intantly fell in love. wait that's not right. well that's all i feel like writing for the moment. this whole blarg has been entirely too long and i myself have been quoted as saying i hate long blargs.

bye-ee for now, pharty b. broke.