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Thursday, 21 September 2006
Check it Out
Mood:  chillin'
Now Playing: Both Sides Now-Joni Mitchell
Check out: Urban Dictionary

Its got your answers to any sort of slang term you hear pretty much anywhere. Some nonsense, but enough to tickle your fancy. Indulge. Shut the fuck up.

My Definition: Delicool pronounced (del-a-shool) 1. Delicious and cool smooshed together

Posted by planet/huntingtonb at 11:01 PM
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Thursday, 21 September 2006
Seal Beach
Mood:  chillin'
Now Playing: No Brakes-The Bravery
Topic: keyboard and docs
Surprisingly enough, the one time I expect a doctor’s appointment to be less than enjoyable; this one actually was. With the minor fault of being told you have to have your head checked, of course.

Apparently, and under no circumstances will I jinx this, I’m being advised to visit a neurologist-who will be paid to have a look at my brain. I think he’s rather lucky, personally, since I’m probably quite the phenomenon... what with how large and impressive my brain must be.

The medical group we use is insipid. Look here, I’m searching for big words to accurately describe my hatred for Seal Beach. It isn’t classy. You sit in a waiting room with twenty patients from Leisure World, listening to a sonic keyboard rendition of ‘Time after Time’.

One woman, old an frail looking, was sitting across from me as I flipped through Esquire. She was waiting for her ride back to the convalescent home, and had been waiting for quite sometime. She was there when I left, still.

She was downright depressing, really, and even the hilarity of when I found out Esquire was a gay magazine, didn’t put me off from her sad, wrinkly face. It took her about an hour to get to a seat and sit down. No one really helped her, including me. Forgive me for being an insecure jackass.

I was more than happy to get called into the back. The nurse who took my blood pressure and checked my breathing wasn’t in a very positive mood. I didn’t blame her. The music was horrible.

Symptoms are hard to describe twice. Sometimes you go off and swear you were blind for a second, or that your entire body was numb and your chest hurt. You want to be sick, in all actuality. It’s when you are that it sucks.

Not that I am. I can’t tell whether I should be worried or not. Being worried would make me look like a fool in the end. Test results would tell me I was overreacting. Not worrying, and silently hoping, is only a way to get hurt. I want to say ‘fuck all’ and just forget the appointment ever happened. Can’t really, I already told Cherri.

I’m laughing over it now. I doubt it, hell, I know for sure I’m all right. I got a Famous Star without meat on the way home and spilled some on my shirt. We were driving away from the beach, and that pissed me off. Fuck that.

Posted by planet/huntingtonb at 2:35 PM
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