August 23, 2001
Puffy Power
I haven't been writing because I am a lazy, shiftless bitch.
But I'm coming to terms with that.
Ryan and I went to see American Outlaws the other day and that movie is wicked. I'm officially in love with Jesse James. But I'm assuming that he was much uglier in real life than the delicious actor chosen to portray him, Colin Farrell.
I liked Bob, too.
Mad Bob.
Ha.
The one insane thing about summers in my house is the bevy of shitty daytime television that is watched. I get up, I catch the end of Regis and Kelly. Which isn't so bad.
Then we have a full hour of Little House on the Prairie. You gotta love them Ingalls.
Then Justin insists on watching Hot Zone with Mandy Lauderdale, whom I loathe. I don't think I like any of the VJ's anymore. They're getting stupider and stupider and wear less and less clothing.
And of course Mandy thinks about playing Weezer or Dave Matthews but changes her mind and plays Juvenile and P. Diddy.
I am so dissapointed in Travis. And Ben Stiller. Puffy must have gotten them really drunk before they consented to be in his video.
To those of you who like Puffy or P. Diddy or whatever the hell he has decided to call himself (both of which sound like the names of Muppets as opposed to Rap "singers"), I'm not going to apologize. I have little to no respect for rap music. Yes, they can do something I can't do (like talk really fast and rhyme on command), but they rarely do anything original. The occasional intrument with the backgrounds of their songs stolen from other songs. And they consider themselves artists.
Damn. There's that judgemental bitch in me again.
I have no control over her.
Not that I don't agree with her.
astera at 5:49 p.m.