Monstor

So i'm very happy for everyone today. not sure why, but ice cream cones sure do make great bar stools

Anyone who can correctly guess the acronym or what Barbie is holding gets sexual favors. And not necessarily from an obese llama farmer.

Dude, so I ate a bowl of cornflakes this morning. No big deal, right? Then around 11 I start feeling pukey and dizzy. When I got home I was so out of it my parents drove me to the doctor. It turns out I've developed an allergy to corn. Who's allergic to corn??!! Apparently if you eat a lot of it regularly one day your body will just be like "fuck this! no more corn!". So beware, kids, think twice before eating that cereal or slice of shepard's pie.

He gave me some meds and said I should feel ok soon. Intertia's playing Sunday, I wonder what would have happened if I had gone the whole weekend just letting it get worse. Maybe I should eat more corn and see if I can hallucinate on stage. That would be sick.

And I finally met Noni today. She's awesome!!

Slept in a barn with a bunch of chicks

Woke up

kinda hung over.

sidenote: Nana's gone!! HORRA- i mean... Nooooo.... :(

eehee! O RLY!

SOME GAMES TO HELP YOU NON UKRANIANS COMMUNICATE WITH US REAL HUMAN BEINGS!

Boomchyk's Alphabet

Boomchyk's Kitchen

Boomchyk's Zoo (WITH AN ENGLISH PUPPET TOO!)

Boomchyk's Zoo Quiz (WITH ENGLISH PUPPET TOO!)

Boomchyk's Coloring Book!


HAVE FUN! KIDDIES!

Maybe someday you'll be civilized and be able to understand me.

www.ukranianpower.com

JACKASSES!

I'VE GOT A BEARD!

CALL ME! I'M BORED! 434 3664!

MAKE PLANS!

MY MIND IS ROTTING ALONG WRIST MY WRIST!

--i mean from guitar playing hehe ew

My summer as of now:

Well a week ago, Matt Davide and i were chit-chatting online and I came across some little "high school battle of the bands" thing on a local message board. I show the link to Matt, and he's like, "hell why not, let's do it".(Keep in mind we haven't practiced in over a year, and Matt hasn't seen Taylor Craft since October)

So me thinking this is some little diddy in Burlington, we submit our music/info/people/etc. and we get a reply from that Matt Grasso DJ from the "99.9buzz" who's encharge of this thing saying that we're in. So now that we're in, I go back and read the entire 'battle of the bands' page so i know exactly what's going on... Apparently this thing is the 'Mayors Cup' where 6 high school bands are picked out of Burlington, Plattsburgh, Montreal, and wherever else you get "99.9tehBuzz" play in Plattsburgh NY. It's like a 3 day thing July 7,8,9. ...it's actually a pretty BIG deal.

And i'm thinking to myself; Out fo all the bands who actually try, and actually worked really hard to hopefully get in to this didn't because of two jackasses who used to be in a band decided it'd be "neat to try out"

So now I'm like shit, now we need to practice...

... but then again; this IS a 'high school' competition.... I don't wanna sound like an egotistical dick, but, "i'm beyond 'high school' thank you very much :)"

_____________________________________________


And to match my EGO, some videos to watch! ((THEY ARE HELL-ARIOUS!)) I'VE NEVER LAUGHED SO HARD IN MY LIFE!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_tuLEmWccM

MORE VIDEOS LIKE THIS -----> http://www.youtube.com/profile_videos?user=adam02

_____________________________________________
And for some bad news:

One of the bands (waiting for a miracle) that we liek to call "Waiting For A Creamsicle" who we share our practice space in Williston--- we're THIS close to kicking them out. Last night my good friend Ken showed up and the door to the space was wide open, the fan was on and the lights were on, bottle caps everywhere, even on OUR gear. They fuck around with our gear to piss us off; There's over 30 grand of gear sitting there, and any jerk could have taken it.

We're all gonna give them a stern talk... Me and Chris (anya's boyrfirend) haven't met the guys yet; so while everyone else will be like "UP TO HERE" chris and I will make it entertaining by possibly saying "Bogus" and "W3rd" just to set out that 'gang mentallity' hahaha

... BASTARDS **shakes fist**

_____________________________________________
MORE BAD NEWS

I WON'T BE ABLE TO SEE ASS-PIRATES OF THE CARRIEAN 1 AND 2 WITH EVERYONE BECAUSE OF THE SILLY BATTLE OF THE BANDS THIGN!

Like, anyone could possibly talk me out of doing this thing in Plattsburgh in like 2 minutes....

...but whatever....

... i'm sure you'll have fun without me...

**sniffels** ;)

My shirt is on fire

So graduation wasn't as long as it was. Then everyone was going somewhere and i'm lke uhhh uhh uhhh... hmmmm

so i go home hoping i can get a ride to either A) Milton for Ben's graduation party with everyone associated with Inertia "OR" B) To Max's where all my friends of the other part of my life are

So since i had a fight with my mom last night, she's all like "blah blah, you can't go / you can't make up for what you did"

But i do all my housework and more and suck up and i'm slaving away for like 5 hours on and stuff hoping to go, but to no avail.

And she's like "you can go next weekend"

but i'm stubborn. and I try to get my dad to let me go.... he'd let me go, but he was like "what did mama say?" .... "no?" ..."oh."

sooo... until school's done, i'm h-h-homeee.

and i'm developing some disorder and i won't be able to get through this next week. I just have this feeling.

I'll probably end up dying by friday because of it... dunno. bleegh

The left side of my tongue is slowly becoming numb.... WHY?

Probably from eating too much pussy.

HI RACHEL!

Your mom is fun!

THe voice recital was badass!

I like coming to these things because it puts me back in my place in the vocal world and away from the local music scene. Makes me feel like i suck :(

Elsa : You've got such a nice amplified voice; soothing crazy
Annalise : I got half a chill and a half a tear on your solo thing; great job!
Elana : Didn't know she was that good
Ariel : didn't know she could sing at all

I told Ben Bouchard (Inertia guitarist) about my feeling put back in place and he's like "Don't worry, they lip sync at those things anyhow"

so ya hahaha

anywho, for all who i gave thumbs up and shook hands to; that's REALLY good. Like, i'd give out the usual hugs, but that'd mean nothing to me... plus i'd get carried away and the law will get involved.... again... hahah

-JULIAN

kickass nite

I WANNA TAKE OPERA LESSONS!

I wanna figure out how to develop my head voice and shtuff.

If anyone knows of kickass voice teachers that can develop my voice into amazingness i'd like to know. Cus i read it takes 14 years to develop a voice; 7 years of building the insturment, and 7 more of getting technique.

Plus i'm a stubborn goof and i have to do it all NOWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


BAAH!~1!1one

Comment, and . . .
* I'll respond with something random I like about you.
* I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
* I'll name something we should do together.
* I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
* I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
* I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

The only thing that I have to share is that i don't like it how Ben Irish hits on me. ... not sure if you can call it that, but i don't feel all too comfortable around him... he's too cuddly around me... ech

Then again i'm not going to prom with anyone... should i ask BEN!?!?

**GASP!**

Hey

So there's this thing at IBM called "bring your kid to work day"

And i my parents were like EVERYBODY GO!! But i'm thinking.... "bring your kid to work day?!? maybe like 7 or 12 year olds?" But as usual i did the Julian thing and didn't think and said "ok, whatever"

OK WHATEVER

those words can get you in alot of trouble. It's a generic phrase that people get what they want without you ever approving of things.

So we'll see how out of place i am tomorrow at IBM!

YAY!

Yes, i'm complaining to people.

Everyone; just post something to keep myself intertained for at least 2 minutes! It's saturday, and it feels like school was today and is tomorrow

*brain feels weird*

*brain explodes*

X_X <<<<< --ded

I almost got killed by a falling tree at play practice

I'm so sick that I fainted and almost fell down the stairs this morning

Scary scary scary timess

i'm sneezing a little less than before

but my nose still burnzzzzz

Her name was Karen, and we first met in Psych 101.

She was gnarled young thing; wheelchair-bound, head cocked permanently to her left, crusty fingers twisted into half-knots, long, atrophied legs, a seemingly endless trickle of spittle running from the corner of her mouth.

Despite her physical curse (MD, compounded by palsy), she was intelligent and very funny, and always added lively, insightful input to class discussions. One might say she stood out from the crowd, in more ways than one.

About the third week in, I began to notice Karen staring at me from across the room. Each time our eyes met, she’d shyly curl her thin, purple lips into a smile — the sort of smile that said "I know I’m a hideous, drooling freak but, please, Dear God in Heaven, won’t you please smile back?"

Out of pity, I smiled back.

By mid-semester, Karen and I had become friends. I’d wheel her into the quiet hallways of the student center and we’d talk for hours about life’s injustices, about our radically different child- hoods, about health, about disease — about the future. I often found myself weaving whole-cloth tales of my "hard" childhood, if only to buffer the sting of her heart-wrenching tales of a little girl with a incurable, crippling disease; the brutal taunts of the other kids, the endless hours of tests, treatments and therapies — all of which she’d recount without a hint of self-pity.

As the winter passed and spring approached, Karen and I became exceedingly close, despite the suspicious leers of her roommate (a particularly bitter cripple named Jen) and the barbed guffaws of my beer-soaked buddies, who couldn’t understand why I — the most selfish, wretched womanizer on campus, would spend so much time with this diseased, rotting husk of a woman. We started studying and shopping together. I helped her pick out her clothes and try them on, cooked for her, even helped her in and out of the bathtub and scrubbed her back. And, although she consistently referred to me as the "big brother she’d never had," I could see, very clearly, that she was pining for more.

Needless to say, the thought of making love to Karen had crossed my shallow, polluted little mind on occasion, but was each time snuffed by the inescapable mental image of her pale, twisted limbs, her labored breathing, the stringy, clouded saliva running from her mouth… the image of fucking a sideshow attraction. There were times when we were together that she charmed me to the point I wanted to take her in my arms and ravage her — let her feel my hot, pounding heart against hers — but the Images would flood as if through a shattered dam and submerge me in guilt-ridden disgust.

One hot night in July, my roommate, Captain Forehead, and I were hosting a keg party at our mobile home — a gigantic, aluminum monstrosity we’d dubbed "Phi Kappa Trailer." The festivities were in full swing when I found myself, quite inexplicably, thinking about Karen, undoubtedly sitting alone in her dorm room. With a few drinks under my belt, I put on my Good Samaritan mask and decided that she might enjoy herself, so I picked up the phone and invited her to come to the party as my "date." She giggled like a child, accepted, and I hopped into the old Dodge Charger to pick her up.

Once back, she asked Cappy (who, by now, had also grown quite fond of her — tho’ he stilled privately referred to her as "tire tread" — don’t ask me why) for a glass of beer from the keg — the first time I had seen her show an interest in booze. After assuring Cappy that the alcohol wouldn’t cross-fuck the effects of her meds, he tapped her a tall, frothy one. It would be the first of quite a few, much to my surprise.

As the party went on and the drugs and booze flowed, the usual antics abound — a fistfight out front, a visit from the Carbondale PD, a complete stranger taking his squeeze into Cappy’s bedroom for a quick shag, some drunken Chinese guy going into our medicine cabinet in search of who-knows-what (ObSidebar: Cappy regularly mined the cabinet with a rat trap before such parties. Sure — and audibly — enough, the fucker got his fingers snapped just prior to Cappy literally *throwing* him out of the trailer and onto the front lawn, head-first).

There I sat as the hours went by, getting drunk as a widowed Irishmen next to Karen, whose usually ashen complexion was now rosy with alcohol. She drank her fill, laughed at the jokes, flirted with the guys and did her damnedest to be a part of it all, but I could see her broken gaze eventually returning to the other girls at the party — scanning their figures, studying their shapely, limber legs…

As the night began to give way to morning, the last of our guests stumbled out the door, and I found myself coked to the gills on the couch with Karen dozing on my shoulder. Cappy had long since passed out in the backseat of his Impala out front with some skanky local broad who’d wandered in, and our neighbor, Crazy Dave (RIP. old soldier), was busy throwing up in the kitchen trash can.

I lifted Karen up and took her into my room, settling her gently on the bed. As I turned to leave, she stirred.

"Checks?" she mumbled, "Let’s do it."

I froze in my tracks, unable to turn toward back toward her – waiting for those vile. monstrous images to flush over me — waiting for an excuse– any excuse — to get the hell out of that room.

For whatever reason — the booze, the dope, my conscience (perish the thought of the latter, eh?) — the excuse didn’t materialize. The images didn’t come. Instead, I found my face flushed, my temples pounding, my cock swelling and throbbing in my jeans. God help me, but I wanted her, diseased, mangled, pathetic creature that she was…

I wanted her.

I turned around and faced her in the reddish glow of the sunrise, filtering through the two-dollar curtains and leftover cigarette smoke. My hands and voice trembling in perfect sync.

"Karen — you’re drunk. Get some sleep, hon," I stammered.

"Checks," she said again, more urgently. "I need you to do this for me. Please."

"But, Karen, I…."

I saw in her eyes a precarious, triangular balance between desire, desperation and total defeat. I couldn’t fight it. Somewhere between animal lust and human pity, I knelt over her and kissed her. Her lips parted wide, and my tongue slipped deep into her steaming, sour mouth. She gasped and pulled me down on top of her with her gnarled arms, running her twisted fingers along my temples, through my hair…

Before long, I had wrapped myself around her atrophied frame, and was peeling her clothes off. She was grunting and panting like a coyote in a leg hold trap, licking my neck, sucking my earlobes, whispering how wonderful it felt to be held …

Fighting off an army of swirling psychological demons, I pulled her jeans and panties down with one, swift tug and tossed them to the floor. An instant later, I was licking and sucking her flattened, pasty breasts, trailing down her sagging, pock-marked belly with my tongue, forcing my face between her lifeless, white thighs, and kissing
– then sucking — her mushy, reeking snatch. She reached up and tried to hold fast to the nightstand as I lifted her legs over my shoulders and dug in with my chin. My tongue, numb from the combination of cocaine and vaginal acids, ran wild circles inside her as her bushy pubes filled my nostrils. She began to shudder and sob for air as I ran my face under her ass cheeks and let my tongue part her sweaty black bunghole with wet, darting thrusts.

"Put in in my mouth," she whispered, as she lost her hold on the nightstand, and her arm, like a withered autumn tree branch, quivered and bounced to the side of the bed. I stood at the headboard and, cradling the back of her head with one hand and her chin with the other, slid my cock between her lips. A thin, sticky stream of spittle leaked from the corner of her mouth and onto the pillow as she drew me in, purring hungrily as I pushed the shaft in, running along the inside of her cheek and distorting her already twisted features. I stiffened as her teeth clumsily scraped a layer of flesh from the head, and she looked up at me like a frightened child.

Cock stinging, I pulled out and ran the bottom of it along her face and over her lips; she gently soothed and kissed it, then drew back, grinning up at me like one of Jerry’s Kids at the telethon fireworks show.

I climbed back over her and lifted her bony white legs into the air.

Slowly, I slid my cock into her and began pumping — slowly and gently at first, as she smiled nervously up at me, then furiously hard as I felt my stomach knot and my throat close…

I pulled out just in time to splatter her belly with jism — to swat the dive-bombing demons from the air — then collapsed in a drug-marinated heap beside her, panting for breath in the unbearably thick mixture of mildewy summer air and sexual stench…

I laid there for an hour as the cocaine filtered from my system — cursing the dented, aluminum walls, cursing the demons… cursing myself…

Cursing her.

….

That afternoon, As she waited in the car and I, pale and ill, folded her wheelchair into the trunk, Cappy stuck his head out the bath- room window and looked down at me with a wide-eyed, almost horrified gaze.

"You *didn’t*!, he whispered.

"No," I fired back, "I didn’t. Asshole."

"Prob’ly could’ve," he sneered back, and disappeared behind the window.

"Yeah. Probably could’ve."