Randomness Embodied

Narcoleptic Insomniac. That is me and half of the college population in a nutshell.

I believe I am like Nietzsche in that we both write lotsa shit down. We are different in that he wrote genius shit down, and I just write crap. But that is alright, because I know I'm not a genius. So it works out.

I truly detest pop ups, but I really, really loathe the pop ups selling sex. They're all geared towards men! I mean, c'mon, women like sex, too. True, men tend more to think with their genitals, but still. It's as though the marketers are unaware of women as individuals with an eye for male hotness, as opposed to the ubiquitous woman-as-fuck-on-legs. Women have fantasies and shit, too.

Random random random. . . this is what spring break does to an individual. Sucks all the meaning from thought, although it's usually manifested in breast-baring and beer bongs, as opposed to a fcuked up journal entry. Ah well, off to collect some more pretty icons. :)

I want to have his babies

Nietzsche and Pratchett. Just read Small Gods (for the fiftieth time) and read several choice tidbits from some of Nietzsche's works.

My dream person. Take Nietzsche's incredibly enquiring mind, add a streak of Pratchett's brand of comedy. Mix in Jude Law's elegance, a dash of Johnny Depp's unique flavor, and a pinch of the Rock's solidity.

Michael Buble's appreciation/talent for music stirred with Vivaldi's ability to recreate life through music, and Donne's poetic view of the world.

Antonio Banderas' accent, Rodrigo Santoro's hot bod and his face, for that matter.

Heh, heh, heh. His name shall be Squishy, and he shall be mine, and he shall be my Squishy. :)