Well it's not Lloyd, but I'm sick of paying for goods and/or services and not receiving what I was meant to receive.

You go to a restaurant and order a steak, it's overcooked or undercooked by the 17 year-old "chef" out the back who probably learnt how to grill on a lego set which he subsequently tried to enhale and received brain damage from.

You buy clothing and it has a magical defect such as one side of the garment having different dimensions than the other side, or a "mystery pocket" where no God-fearing Christian would ever dream of putting one on a public pair of pants.

You order a $10 coffee from Starbots Latte Whatever It's Called I Hate Coffee Shops and lo and behold it bears no resemblance to your order except for your mispelled name (no, my name is not Brent, nor Brett, nor Indiscernable Scribble I did not stutter why can you not hear me correctly oh you're from India I see I should have ordered some tea then you would have gotten that right).

And finally, I pay an exorbitant amount of money to get a picture taken with exact specifications and hey what do you know IT WAS WRONG.


In other news, I am still an idiot sometimes when it comes to relationships and I am sorry. Really sorry like for real sorry times 5000. If you're not Kat then DO NOT READ THIS PART OH SHIT I SHOULD HAVE PUT THAT FIRST BETTER HIT PO

I've changed my mind

After years of wanting to be cremated after I die, with my ashes spread about somewhere of significance to me (past areas have included underneath the tyres of a hot rod driven by satan mid-burnout, a volcano filled with alligators that are obviously so intense that they can live inside of a volcano [FUCKING LAVAGATORS], and a duck), I have decided that I would like a proper funeral and burial with a funeral mass that will be sure to bore the jerks that are attending. If you are a jerk attending my funeral and find yourself bored then you undoubtedly deserve it!! I'll be dead for crying out loud so if you don't like it get the fuck out!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is a ***BINDING DOCUMENT*** it has legal powers, and possibly supernatural ones (if you find yourself levitating in your bed at midnight my theory will be proven and you will be scared unless you are a ghost in which case you levitate 24/7 anyway what the fuck are you doing floating on a bed go to the mall or something??????).

In other news I'm an idiot and I wish I didn't screw things up with people (read: Kat) so much.

(no subject)

Because I don't think I deserve to be treated this way, and I don't think either of us really want to end things for good. I'm willing to wait for you - even if we don't get to talk for a very, very long time, even if nothing is for sure - because you're worth it, and I really thought I was worth it too.

I'll wait anyway, because I can't do anything but love you. My heart always belonged to you and always will, and I can't do anything about that.

"Hide the medication and put grandma in the basement, i've got a Big freakin' news alert" - Me

Best journal title ever?????? Quite possibly. If they have an awards night and there is an award for the best journal title and subsequent "biggest news in Brad's life" category, I will win them both and then spit in the face of the other contestants for even daring to dream. "You like medals? Here is one - World's Most Punched Face award. You didn't have your face punched? Sorry I was reading your future in these tea leaves; better make sure you qualify first" bam right in the face. Get the fuck out of my ceremony non-winner, When there is an award for "motherfuckers who lost a bunch of awards" I'll ring you up but even then you probably lost because you will try to suck the award presenter guy's dick you freakin' moron.

Man I was trying to be serious.


I haven't posted anything here because I haven't felt the need to document my thoughts for anyone but myself and one other person, with that other (amazing) person being the reason that I'm posting this here. For once it's me wanting to share something happy and genuine instead of writing about my day in some horribly shit-sounding prose or talking about ancient giant sharks trying to eat people (HELLO THAT WAS THE BEST POST EVER BRAD - side note from me, Brad). Needless to say, so far I'm doing a terrible job with being serious BUT I'm writing this for everyone else - not just myself, though it kind of defeats the purpose of a journal? Who gives a shit? Johnny Journal but he is a prick, go to hell Johnny - um, oh I lost my place!

This is the important part this is the biggest news of my life except maybe if a dinosaur eats me but even then this is way better than anything else except for 1 other thing except I can't say it because it would give away the surprise that I am giving away in about 3 lines' time

I've met the girl that I'm spending the rest of my life with, and we're in love and getting married next year. She lives in LA, and after falling in love with her over the Internet against my obvious worries (we met on about 8 months or so ago) I went over there for 2 weeks and it was honestly the best 2 weeks of my life so far. By the third day I knew she was the one (like, the serious The One, that there is only one of), my soul mate, my everything that I can imagine. You know when people say that when you meet that one person that you just know, and then you're all "Dude how can you say that you're off your freakin' rocking chair??? Hold on to your hats, this guy's eaten a bowl of Crazys Crunch and is 100% Crazylicious"? Well, people are going to be saying that about me, because whatever I thought love was and what I knew about it have been replaced with this feeling of complete happiness and amazement.

Seriously, it's all true, and I only mention this because I'm a crazy dude and I tend to say crazy things, but I've never been so sure about anything in my life. I didn't propose in the classic sense of the word but the technicalities and trivialities of protocol and procedure are completely trumped by the fact that I've found the most amazing, beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, and caring girl in the world.


So yes - sadly I have to now spend from now until September (very, very hopefully) without her. So far it's proven to be the most difficult time in my life, and leaving her was the hardest thing that I've had to do in my life so far (p.s. I cried like a baby on my last day there). I'll be moving to LA for good, so I'm sorry to the people that I'm leaving behind but I hope that you understand that I have to follow my heart (it would be impossible not to). Things are kind of up and down when I tell people the news though it has been mostly positive; the only thing that I'm sure of is that I'll love her forever.

Her name is Katrina by the way and she can choose to show her face here or not (it is a pretty face but it might not be her actual face because that is not yet possible given current technology and it might not even be a digital face because I don't know????).

I love you, Kat, and you're the only thing in this world that I need. Pretend that I put a smiley face here/?????
Oh to hell with it
  • Current Music
    Eluvium - Copia


Ho ho! I meant my life, seriously.

As the fast-approaching end of my career of "professional student" approaches quite rapidly (some may even say that it is approaching "fast", but that's so bourgeois that I'd pretty much slit my own throat if I were to catch myself uttering such a word), I can't help but feel a growing nostalgia and slight tinge of sorrow for my soon-to-be-departed, (somewhat and arguably) luxurious lifestyle of pretending to be doing something while sitting at a computer for six years straight. It's been a spotted past; the first 18 months were spent on a wasted diploma, though I'm quite glad that I got the opportunity to learn more than it offered since it was a pile of hairy horse-testicles, and there were those 6 months spent doing the one subject which was completed in 2 weeks, and I was fat for a long time... ah, the memories (why did I bring this up god I hate this).

Now I just coughed up bile but only half-way up my throat and it is burning me! I guess the reasoning behind this is tied in with the goal of this entry, which is to give a specific account of what could be considered a sterotypical day which is simultaneously so mind-alteringly boring and "crap ya dacks" exciting that whenever anyone hears about it their shirt suddenly transforms into an oversized white one with "ROCK ON!!!" splashed across the chest in giant, bold red lettering (if the person is not currently wearing a shirt then whatever garment they are currently wearing will either mutate into this new shirt momentarily, or if they are naked then one will appear out of thin air around their torso and hopefully whatever horrible bits are flopping all over the place), and then a double-necked guitar will appear in their hands (same deal applies to the guitar as to the aforementioned shirts) with a solo from an unnamed power metal-era Pantera song being magically played by the ghost of a hair metal faggot who died after eating a cocaine and glitter sandwich; the eating of the sandwich was rumoured to have been the outcome of a lost bet, but sources later confirmed that he ate it voluntarily because he figured it might be "as close to tasting heaven" as he'd ever get (I guess he discovered the truth around 3 minutes later).


Strangely enough I woke up at 10:30, but this was only to take off the clothes that I had fallen asleep in to give to mum so that she could wash them. Yes, my mother still does my laundry. I'd fallen asleep at around 1 o'clock watching The Up Late Game Show with Simon Deering (a.k.a. Hotdogs) and Chrissy. Sadly I cannot say that falling asleep fully-clothed was not due to being made amazingly tired by masturbation, and I would not mention this if not for the fact that it's completely normal and healthy and seriously you should be all masturbating right now. That point also warranted mention since, well, I do it a lot and I just can't help it and nor would I want to! After being awoken from my paralytic slumber I managed to sit around in my underwear for an unknown (even by me) period of time, but did manage to be showered, shaved and clothed before Days Of Our Lives began. During the unknown period of time I checked whatever websites needed checking, listened to a bunch of crappy songs, trolled people, and successfully avoided study like I have been doing for the past week/month/semester - my first final exam is on the 7th, and the next one after that is on the 13th, so basically I really need to start studying but fuck that dumb nerd shit.

At this point I'm ready tooo ruuuummbblllllee, so I somehow managed to order 6 CDs from eBay totalling around $150. How the fuck...? It was basically to firmly plant myself back into CD purchasing mode rather than vinyl purchasing mode, and also to try and guilt myself into studying. The desired effect was achieved briefly, but it was soon replaced by hunger. Well, surely the guilt of eating a gargantuan mass of Kentucky Fried Chicken would help me to study?! With this in mind, I drove to KFC, ordered the KFC, paid for and received my KFC, drove home fast listening to Reign In Blood with the KFC, came inside with the KFC, ate the KFC, and then felt horrendously sick from the KFC. I was set to eat a healthy sandwich for the day, but mum GAVE me money, without my asking, to go and get lunch and I was too groggy to refuse. This is basically a representation of the personal mindgames I play with myself to motivate and create drive in myself, and to a lesser extent of the signs/omens that I understand to be completely coincidental yet crucial to my existence; if I "do x / see x / encounter x / have x / complete x" I will then "do y / see y / encounter y / have y / complete y". It's a minor form of goal-based living which is only utilised in situations where indecision or confusion is encountered and basically it kicks ass.

Before, during, and after all of this hullabaloo, I periodically check the front door for my order from Southern Lord (Altar 2CD, Altar shirt) to no avail. I check the SL forum to see if any other Australians have received their order, and to my dismay another Brisbanite had in fact received his order. My 12-track copy of Vein arrived on Monday, so I'm not too hung up about it not arriving since it kicks major ass, but STILLLLLLLLLL, GIVE ME MY DAMNED PACKAAAGGGGEEE AAAAAARGHJJJJ I ORDERED IT RIGHT AWAAAAYYYYY FFFUUUUCCCCKK. Since no "fun" mail had arrived, I decided to go and collect the "normal" mail from the mailbox (the only sun I get on some days). 2 envelopes addressed to me? Very peculiar. When walking back up the 2 of the 3 stairs that exist on the path for no reason other than making it level with gravity's pull instead of a slope like the lawn, I completely forgot about the gigantic, thick web that somehow stretched from a tree to a bush and got in my way. Of course I hate spiders and their ominous webs that taunt you with their "hey, gonna fuckin' get ya!" vibe, so when I'm covered in what appears to be web mixed with gigantic spider testicles I completely - yet silently - flip out and throw one of my two envelopes into the garden underneath more fucking spider webs. What was in the envelope? A promotional deal from Slurpee, in which you can have a Large Slurpee upgraded to an Extra-Large Slurpee for no extra cost (when I applied for it online for free I mentioned that I drank around 20 Slurpees per week, which is a blatant and hilarious lie). Why couldn't I have dropped the other one? I don't need some useless ATM card! WHAT WILL I DO WITHOUT THESE FREE SLURPEE UPGRADES? WHY MUST I CONSTANTLY GET METAPHORICALLY FUCKED IN THE ASS BY NATURE AND IN PARTICULAR SPIDERS? WHY DOES THE GUY ACROSS THE ROAD IGNORE EVERYONE AND LOOK REALLY CREEPY?

Basically this led me to this afternoon. I had a cup of tea with 4 heaped teaspoons of sugar and a small amount of milk - to make it more of a brown colour rather than black or white - and decided to do useless shit on the Internet rather than study (this journal entry being an example). More music was listened to, and I talked to more people on MSN Messenger. I guess what isn't stereotypical about today is the fact that I'm going to tell/ask my parents about a 2 week trip to LOS ANGELES (~THE CITY OF ANGELS~) starting between Christmas and New Year, and that I am a closet homosexual. Judging by how much I love the butts of girls, you can decide which of those two is a lie.

Tonight, I'll eat scrambled eggs and toast and waste more time that I should be using for studying. Also I will poop for the third time today.

I don't know what the future holds, but quite frankly it will have to be awesome since I am indeed awesome. Like dad has said twice (the second time rather awkwardly, since he'd already told me...), this is a new chapter in my life. I'm actually very happy about the person that I am, and even though there are some imperfect qualities that I would like to work on, I wouldn't change who I am or how I got here for anything. Maybe I would if it got me a Ferrari, but who knows.

This started out kind of cool but ended reeeeealllllly horrible and gay so I'm just going to stop typing now.

  • Current Music
    Boris - Kanau Part 1 & 2


Today a fat rude bitch made me angry. I only mention the fat part because she was horribly rude but her looks of disdain didn't match my incredulity over why someone would get so fucking moody over someone ACCIDENTALLY stopping in a position that was in the middle of their then-current path of travel. It's not as if I was standing in an aisle and not letting her through intentionally, but rather it was in a large open space with plenty of room in all directions. She stood there for a few seconds and said nothing, until she finally uttered "excuse me" with that I'm-as-mature-as-a-14-year-old, mouth-gaping look and tone, after I'd already been informed of her presence by my mother and subsequently turned around and apologised with as much sincerity about my part played in the accident as was warranted for a stranger with such a look on her face (who was seemingly so daft or lazy that she couldn't reason her way around a slight obstacle placed in the middle of an entirely-hypothetical and not-yet-travelled trail with vast, sweeping meadows of delicious and, more importantly, unoccupied and uninhibited, space). You could have stepped 1 metre sideways and moseyed along to Facestuffer Central, i.e. the Food Court, you gargantuan pile of fat deposits with legs.

The indignant look splashed across her countenance prompted an entirely reasonable reaction of my utterance of "Jesus", loud enough so that there were no ambiguities as to what was said, who it was said to, nor why it was in fact said. My parents shared my view on this particular situation, with their own visages riddled with mixed looks of shock and hilarity over Li'l Miss Hoggo's boorish behaviour! My word! It was almost refreshing to receive such an attitude from the human equivalent of a pork belly covered in make-up, wearing work clothes from a well-known but unnamed retail department store chain (with a wig of human hair to top off the ensemble). Run, little pig, for your trough awaits! Who was I to deny the magnificent beast - with an intelligence allowing for an almost-authentic imitatation of a human being, and a spirit so wily as to allow it to clothe itself in an appropriate garb - of its spoils of war?

Rather than continue to its natural habitat, unimpeded by distractions, it turned around and looked directly into my eyes, with a look on its mug that visualised the phrase "What the fuck did you just say?", as best as could be replicated physically when the canvas of such a phrase resembled a failed Indian dish with eyes. As I'm a man of principles (as opposed to a man of principals, which may have rung true a few years back in that "dark" period where I was really into designer jackets and merlot), I wasn't going to have one bit of her being convinced that she in some way bested me with a mere gaze and a jiggle. My anger stirred, and I don't quite remember the exact words that were said while returning the unpleasant stare matched with unpleasantries, but it was akin to "Yeah? Come on then." It was quite a hilariously futile act on my part, but the speed of her retraction of the look and removal of herself from the situation was goddamn hilarious. What was even funnier was my parents' implicit backing up of my actions, much like the time that I gave the finger to someone in a car park who, for some idiotic reason, tried to drive right through us even though they, too, were blessed with as much spatial freedom (if not more) than the aforementioned lard-gutted lass.

Now I have a sore spot on my scalp, and it feels like someone has stabbed it just a little bit with an ice pick.
Also, I can't sleep.
Go to sleep, little Braddy. Too tired. ;_;
Man, that needed a lot of editing. Note to self: Don't write about crap at 2 A.M.
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    text GIRLS to 19 33 55