March 20th, 2001

Well, it seems to be that time again. That's right, SMiH is on the rantpath again. No! Come back! I've got a wonderful rant for you! PLEASE COME BACK! PLEASE? I NEED YOU! Anyway, for those of you still here, tighten your belts, sing like the duke, and get ready for Mr SMiH's wild ride. Todays rant promises sex, booze, finals, and yes, you guessed it, more bitter ravings from the mouth of the king of bitter self-criticism, SMiH.

Come with me, as it were, to this morning. Woke up quick, at about nine. Just thought that I had to take a final soon. I gotta get food before the test begins... Ah, who am I kidding, I'm no Eazy-E, I better stick to what I'm good at for today. Anyhoo, as you probably could tell by my digression into hip-hop, today marked the beginning of Finals Week here at my illustrius university. My good buddy, who shall be only referenced as Huey to totally disrespect his privacy, said that "Finals week is also known as bleeding orifice week." A graphic depiction indeed, but it is one of the more true things I've heard anyone say about Finals Week. I mean really, when a school dedicates a week to give you anywhere from two to five tests meant to bend you over, duct tape your hands to your ankles, and kick you down several flights of stairs covered with small carpet tacks and large hissing cockroaches. These are the tests that make or break grades. The tests that seperate the men from the boys, the mice from the cats, the cheese from the whey, the lesbians from the bisexuals, and the gold from the mountains. This stuff is truly harsh. Harsher than a good roll down a ski slope in your birthday suit.

Speaking of harsh, some of my friends have been worrying lately that I am becoming a bitter person who wants nothing better than to sit at home, write rants, listen to depressing music, and shout obscenities at passing clouds. This is hardly the case (much to the chagrin of my neighbors let me tell you...). I am not bitter. I am totally at peace with myself. I have no problem with the world, and how it treats me. I mean, it's not like it's my fault that I can't get a date to save my life. Women are definately evil, men may be stupid pigs, but women are evil. EviL with a capital E and L. I mean, it's not like I'm going around shouting about women being the bane of all existence every day; only on alternate tuesdays and thursdays. I mean, I'd love to have some sweet little thing run up and tackle me, or put me in a headlock, or make me spend less time with my friends, or accuse me of not paying any attention to her, or complain that I have too many bad habits and she doesn't know what she ever saw in me... I mean, it's not too much to ask, is it? But no, I'm not bitter at all. Where did anyone get that impression? Maybe my life would be easier if I had an ex... Any takers?

Anyhoo, I think I need to plug some stuff. If you enjoy your free music like no other, and translating song titles into pig-latin is getting too hard for you, take a trip down to AudioGalaxy and check out their software. It's a little hard to figure out at first, but it actually blows big N away after you figure it out. Besides, it helps show you exactly how many different kinds of music you listen to, how keen is that? (yes, R I stole your word, HA! whatcha going to do about that?) Also, definately check out FurniturePorn.com. This site is a laugh. Even if you're not a rabid porno hunter like me, I mean, like my neighbor, you will enjoy this hilarious romp through parody land, deep into the heart of hot gay teen lawnchair action. Not for the young at ottoman.