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ugghh.......been sick

Nov. 26th, 2006 | 12:38 pm
temper: okayokay
happy music: all that i'm living for - evanescence

thanks to my poppop's liberal use of the fatty portion of milk that we all know (and love/hate etc) as butter, i have been clutching my aching aching stomach (let me just say FUCKING OW!!!), feeling like i was gonna blow chunks every 2 seconds...its been lovely. i had to go to work friday (when the ickiness and ouchness of the stomach began) and i ended up sitting on the stepladder, sucking down water as lynn told me, "i don't want you to move until you feel better." to add insult to injury (or whatever), as soon as i walked in, cold stone was fucking MOBBED for two fucking hours and i just felt wonderful....periodically making a face as something inched up my throat then went back down again as i chucked ice cream and accepted money from the innocent passing customer. oh yea, and a japanese/chinese/viamanese/etc...i think she was japanese....tourist/foreign exchange student asked, giggling, if she could take a picture of me while i was mixing her ice cream. i gave her a small smile and said, (since what the hell else what i supposed to say??), "sure." even though i felt like the ickiest piece of christmas poo you can imagine. uggghhh......but yesterday, my uncle brian and my cousins ellie, brian, and wittle arwen came over to give me and my mom our late birthday presents, from him and them and my great aunts. $50 hottopic gift card and a pair of hottopic earrings from him :), clinique makeup and beanie baby teddy bear with sixteen dollars creatively rolled and tied in bows on him from my great aunts. it's very cute and the money's in the tweety bank and the bear's on top of the entertainment center in the living room :).

-sam-

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nope, nothing at all

Nov. 15th, 2006 | 03:14 pm
temper: lethargiclethargic







Which Endless are you?




Desire, the fifth of The Endless, yours is the realm of lust, want, passion, and, of course, desire. You tend to be selfish, only concerning yourself with your own needs, and you have no scruples about using your absolute draw over the opposite sex to get your way. You love being around people, because it's never long before they give in to your will.
Take this quiz!








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taking up more of your friends page....more starcross'd....

Nov. 3rd, 2006 | 08:00 pm
temper: sillysilly
happy music: some band that wants me to rate their songs.....weirdoes

next 4 pages...

2
Romeo drew in the bitter smoke of his newly lit cigarette, drawing in the last ounce of sanity and pride he had left in his system. He had skipped the better half of school today just so he could take a bus halfway downtown to sit on some iron bench across the street from his unrequited beloved’s private school and wait, to buy this final chance to—well, he didn’t exactly know what he wanted to do but he liked her an awful lot. Was that enough? Was it EVER enough? He exhaled mournfully; diffused smoke rings drifted up into the clouds above him. It was bad enough his dad forbade him to drive his lime-green Camaro for a week after Ravi decided to take his girlfriend out joyriding in it a couple days ago. Now, while he was thinking about it, how many more days did he really have to serve in this sentence? Tonight was Mischief Night, so he doubted Ralph would let him out with it, but tomorrow…
Tomorrow was Halloween, All Hallows Eve, and the end of his sentence. He took a jovial pull on his cigarette now. It was amazing how smoking cleared your head. Now, he thought about Ravi’s girlfriend…no, not that way. Lena was his lab partner and he could’ve sworn, before he cut third period, that she had said something about a party. Oh well, someone would jog his memory eventually.
The last bell of the day rang out. His heart leapt, scaring the shit out of whatever thoughts he had had in his mind. Rosaline, he could see her now, clad in the plaid and maroon uniform, exited the heavy oak doors of St. Peter Catholic High School, completely surrounded by a gaggle of her similarly clad girlfriends, joking, talking, and giggling like hyenas. He picked up the thin package wrapped in brown paper at his side. This better work, he thought as he jaywalked without looking both ways first.
A crappy Oldsmobile abruptly stopped but a few inches from his shin, the elderly driver honking its horn loudly. The gaggle, looking like shorter and uglier versions of the supermodels one typically spies in a shampoo commercial, threw their amazingly glossy tresses around to spy the idiot in the street. They definitely recognized him from his previous pursuits and proceeded to point and laugh. Rosaline, glancing up from dialing a number into her cell phone, spotted Romeo, cursed under her breath, and did her best to shield herself behind a swathe of her dark hair. He apologized to the old woman quickly and sprinted the rest of the way across the street. He came to a halt on the outskirts of the circle; the gaping group parted, staring at him darkly with their wondering eyes. Rosaline noticed this as well and fidgeted; first, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, then playing with the charms on her silver bracelet and then after that, with a simple hand motion that declared ‘to hell with it,’ just stood there, looking uncomfortable, folding and unfolding and refolding her arms across her maroon sweater. Then she gave up.
“What do you want?” She asked exasperatedly, throwing him one of her highly cultivated dirty looks. When he opened his mouth, about to speak, she cut him off, “If you’re going to ask me out again don’t bother wasting your breath ‘cause the answer is still no.” She’s a quick one, he figured, shutting his mouth again, and moved the package into view. She saw it. “What is that?” Rosaline wanted to know, as her friends whispered suggestions in her ear. At one, she turned to the curly-haired girl with a weird expression on her face. “Ew. It is so not that, Christy. You have a really sick mind, you know…” ‘Christy’ shrugged and gestured to the parcel. Rosaline glanced back at Romeo. She was scared to know what was in it yet oddly fascinated; he could see it in her eyes.
“Give it to me,” she said, holding out her hand as she added under her breath, “Let’s just this over with.”
When it was clutched “safely” between her perfectly manicured fingernails, Romeo allowed himself to acknowledge the rapid beating of his heart, his bated breathing, and the fresh beads of sweat on his brow. He had never before stood so still, watching as Rosaline tore through the paper with ruthless curiosity. Squeals of delight and awe erupted around him as she ripped the contents from the parcel.
It was a drawing. Of her.
Rosaline could only stare at it as her friends stood on tiptoe and craned their necks over her shoulder to get a good look at it. Christy and Melissa agreed it was pretty good. Regina and Lila began nattering at a mile a minute, evoking half-baked suggestions that had probably come from a magazine, how the sketched Rosaline staring off into space definitely meant something, like he wanted to take her to the moon or something like that. Rosaline looked up from the sketch, her eyes as wide as milk saucers, at Romeo, who, at this point, thought he got her, that she was going to leap into his arms and they’d kiss and kiss and live happily ever after.
“Um, thanks. But no,” said she.
Boy, was he ever wrong.
In point of fact, it was not only the complete opposite of what his wildest dreams had been envisioning ever since he had come out Starbucks that day and saw this girl but remarkably it was the complete opposite PLUS the earsplitting laughter of almost the entire school. Or at least the entire schoolyard and possibly the passerby. And the few individuals inside the school like the janitor or the people in detention. And the ragged old hobo who begs for money or food, depending on what he feels like begging for that day. And the headstrong busker from Rhode Island clad in a threadbare leather jacket covered with kitschy pins proclaiming ‘Save the Whales!’ ‘Greenpeace Rocks My Socks!’ ‘My Guitar is My Life’ ‘Don’t bug me today. I’m running out of places to hide the bodies’ amongst other readings.
The boy may have been imagining this but still it was pretty bad in however which way you looked at it.
But, to continue (and this is before the “laughter”) and to add insult to injury, Rosaline, instead of just answering (which was she already did) and then giving him back the lovely picture he had worked so hard upon for about three days and a half, glared at the poor, humiliated, artistically-gifted, love-struck boy and tossed the sketch into the trash.
No, actually she missed.
But after that, she just picked it up and threw it in.
And that’s when the people laughed. I’m sure it was really humiliating and his face, like, turned as red as a tomato…possibly redder, but he’s so not going to end up with her. Thank God. Wait, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I? Oh well, I did. Get over it. You know what’s coming, don’t you?

* * *

“Hi, Dad.” Juliet said into the cold black phone. Her father smiled wryly from behind the smudged glass. His face looked unusually washed-out in the combination of his bright orange jumpsuit and the flickering fluorescent lighting above him. She pressed her lips together, dread overcoming her.
“Hey, Jule. How’s school going?” He replied, his eyes seemingly lifeless.
“Fine,” She said boredly. “I got my math test back.”
“And how’d you do?”
His daughter shrugged, indifferent. “I got a B.”
He nodded. “That’s better than that D. Good job.”
Jule gave him a searching look. Grades were never his top priority when he wasn’t in jail. They were more of Fe’s department, and her mother didn’t give a shit about anybody unless they left her alone. Besides, this light-hearted, scripted conversation was getting on her nerves. She scratched the stud in her nose and asked the question burning on her mind.
“Did you do it?”
A spark flared to life against the inert hazel of his eyes.
“Now, Juliet…” He started. He never called her ‘Juliet’ unless he was annoyed. She didn’t care. He was in jail already.
“Tony…” The muscles in his hand popped out as he clenched his hand into a fist on the table.
“I’ve repeatedly asked you not to call me by my first name,” He said in a low, meaning-to-be-dangerous voice. Jule scoffed and leaned back in the chair.
“At least I’m not the one in jail.”
“This is not the time or place for that attitude, young lady.” She rolled her eyes. “Juliet!”
She looked back at him, narrowing her eyes. “So, you did do it.” She chuckled, even though it sickened her. “Somebody’s been lying to their lawyer…” She said in a sing-song voice, just to get on his nerves. Tony pressed his forehead to his raised fist, shaking his head. “Why do you do this?”
She shrugged. “Because you fucked up, Dad. And I’d like to remind you of that.”
He brought his fist to the table again, deliberately so it made a sound that made others jump.
“Why? Julie, what is going on? You used to tell me what really on your mind. W-why do you act the way you do?” He pressed a finger to the glass, his eyes cast down. Everything was wearing on him, she could see it; prison, guilt, life—everything.
This would be the perfect opportunity to look her father straight in the eye and say something that would surely land her a session with a shrink, but it hurt way too much to do it. She loved and detested her father right now and simply hated her mother for all eternity. But she could never bring herself to hate Fe, who now waited behind a quarter-inch of Plexiglas and concrete, was much as a mother as anyone could be. Sighing, she dropped her gaze away from him, at her nails, at her boots, anything so she didn’t have to look at him.
He sighed as well, loudly.
She looked up. Was he going to tell her?
“Tell me what you’re really feeling. Right now. You can curse at me if you want.” She looked away again. He could tell she was reluctant.
“I hate you,” She said quietly, chewing the inside of her lip.
“Okay, we’re getting somewhere. Do you really think I did it?”
She looked him square in the eye. “I don’t know what or who to believe,” She started in a testing, clearly annoyed tone. “Why don’t you tell me? I had to find out from the news this morning that you were in jail. So, tell me. What happened, Dad? Did you kill him?”
He let out a breath he didn’t realize was holding. His answer was surely going to set her off.
“Not exactly.”
“Not EXACTLY?” It was more of an exclamation than it was a question. Thank God she was speaking her mind. “WHAT does that mean, exactly? You either did it or you didn’t. The guy is dead—there is no walking away from that fact! This is ALSO one of the things that set me off about Carole and you. Yes or no, I would like a definite answer from you, even if it lands me in therapy and you in jail for life. Just tell me!”
He swallowed with difficulty. People were starting to stare. Couldn’t they just mind their own business? “Yes,” He said. “I did it.” His daughter stared at him, dumbfounded. He could see the tears welling up; she was hurt.
“Thanks. I’m going home.” She said in a low voice, hanging up the phone and knelt to get her stuff together. He tapped the window. She looked up; her eyes were red. He pointed to the phone. She grudgingly picked it up and pressed it to her ear.
“What?”
“It was self-defense,” her father said almost desperately.
She gave him a look of indifference though her eyes still watered. “So? You killed him.”
At this, he was silent.
Juliet shook her head and put the phone back on the hook. Resentful tears slid down her cheeks, smearing her makeup. She stared at her father for a long minute then reached for the phone again.
“I’m going to a party tonight.” She said in place of a farewell and hung up the black piece of plastic again.

* * *

3
Romeo wandered numbly through the streets of the city. Rosaline’s face, perfected in his mind’s eye, slithered in and out of his sluggish, meaningless thoughts like a worm or a disease. It infected everything with its terrible sickness and emerged out of nowhere to mock him, to sneer at his pathetic, emotive state.
The bus lumbered into his line of vision. With the frayed and dirtied posters riddled along its sides advertising opening dates for long-forgotten summer movies, the itinerant three-ton hunk of metal looked quite welcoming and unchanged since he was thrown smack-dab into this depression. The doors slid open as he approached the bus stop, decrepit old beings filing monotonously on and off the mode of public transport. He waited until they got off, feeling sorry for them, and got on. As he came up, the driver gave him the ol’ once over, probably thinking, ‘What has the cat dragged in this time?’ Frankly, Romeo really didn’t give a shit, and dropped the fare into its required place and settled somewhere.
Once a few more passengers boarded, the bus sprang to life again and trudged the streets again, its resonating sounds also resuming. In response, Romeo turned up the volume on his iPod; the Deftones suited his mood all too well and why should the bus get in the way?
Halfway through ‘Change’ the driver said something. Romeo looked up, ripping an earpiece out of his ear so he could hear him. “Hey, kid,” the bus driver said loudly. Was he talking to him?
“Yeah?” said Romeo uncertainly. What could he possibly want?
“You’re the last one on my bus, boy.” Romeo looked around; so he was. “See, my shift ends a couple of minutes. Would you like to get off here?” Frank, as his nametag indicated, gestured to the window. It was Sycamore Grove Park, with the last dregs of the sun going down in the distance. Romeo shrugged then nodded. It was only a couple minutes from his house anyway.
“Thanks,” he said. Frank only nodded in response, pulling the lever that opened the door.
“You be good now, you hear?” Frank said as a goodbye, watching Romeo get off and shut the doors again. Sensing that he should, Romeo turned and waved. Frank nodded in his direction and drove off.
The boy looked around. What was he going to now? He checked his cell phone. It was quarter to six and he missed three calls and had two voicemails. Oh fun, He thought, listening to one of them. It was his mother, asking where the hell he was at this time of night. Romeo shrugged it off; he’d tell her something straight out of his ass. The other voicemail was from his cousin, Ben, telling him to call him back as soon as he could. Romeo mulled this over for a second and decided.
Ben’s phone rang twice before he picked up with a weary “Hullo?” Romeo smirked to himself, starting the route to his house. “Hi, Ben. Good morning to you.”
“Hey,” he said.
“What was so urgent that you just had to call me?”
Ben chuckled. “Are you going to the party tonight?”
Was that it? “I don’t know. Are you?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” Ben said in a contradictory tone.
“Okay,” said Romeo, sighing, “I’ll go.”
“What’s up with you?”
Romeo lied, “Nothing.”
“There is something.”
“How can you tell?”
“You sound…depressed. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Romeo’s temper was inching higher. Why did he really care anyway?
“Okay. I’ll back off,” Ben said grudgingly. “What are you going to the party as?”
Romeo groaned. “I have to go as something?”
“Yeah, it’s a costume party. You forget?”
“Apparently. Fuck, I don’t even have a costume.”
“You want to be a gorilla?”
Romeo laughed. “A gorilla? Are you serious?”
“Yes. A gorilla. It’s my costume from last year.”
“Oh…all right.”
“Okay. Yeah,” Someone in the background was saying something to him. “I have to go. You have car privileges?”
Romeo scoffed. “Hell no. I had to take the bus.”
Ben sniggered. “That’s fun. What time you want me to pick you up?”
The boy shrugged. “Whenever…”
“All right, Ab! I’m getting off now!” Ben was saying to someone. “Cool. I’ll see you when I see you. Bye.”
“G’bye…” Romeo hung up, smiling to himself. He was going to be a gorilla at the party. What could be cooler than that? Down the street his house loomed in front of him, the large square block of a small mansion surrounded by greenery. As he drew nearer, he perceived the ominous silhouette of his dad, the football-player-turned-lawyer, menacingly standing in the doorway.
Oh shit.
He was dead.

* * *

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nope, nothing at all

Oct. 28th, 2006 | 11:30 am
temper: boredbored
happy music: nope, nothin' at all....

wwwwwwwwwwooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww
i'm borrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred.

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sweet

Oct. 16th, 2006 | 10:13 pm
temper: chipperchipper
happy music: Fiona Apple - PleasePleasePlease


HowManyOfMe.com
LogoThere are:
33
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

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weighty decision: to be clothed or to listen to music?

Oct. 13th, 2006 | 05:46 pm
temper: confusedconfused
happy music: none

today, as in like forty minutes ago, i became the proudish owner of a silver, 2 or 4GB (idk) IPod Nano. my dad bought it for me for my bithday, along with a pink case that i can clip onto stuff, flip open and such. upon the arrival home of my mother, she informed me that i will not be going shopping this weekend, as planned, due to the prescence and cost of my IPod which was around 200 bucks. Now, i need to get rid of a lot clothes that i have had since like 6th grade or longer and whose shirttails come just above or in the middle of my navel. i also need khakis, jeans and such and much more stylish clothes because i really have none that fit me properly, when i come right down to it. they are all either too big or they're just the right fit but are too short. plus, i have a lot pants that i can't bear to walk in because they are so freaking baggy...and that was only 4 (more or less) sizes ago. your thoughts, please.


wait, i think my mom opened it....woops.....

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nope, nothing at all

Oct. 8th, 2006 | 11:00 pm
spot: um...my house?
temper: tiredtired
happy music: brackish - kittie

daydreams....

must come to a fucking tragic end.
in a car.
accident.
add quotes, please.
involving large quantities of liquor.
and weed.
and coke (cocaine, not the drink).
well, maybe the drink mixed with the drug and some raid.
or similar poisonous bug-eradicating killer-thing.
so daydreams can cease all together.

being random and stuff so don't mind me.

-sam-

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nope, nothing at all

Oct. 4th, 2006 | 04:27 pm
temper: hungryhungry
happy music: all that i'm living for - evanescence

We would like to know who really believes in gay rights on livejournal. There is no bribe of a miracle or anything like that. If you truly believe in gay rights, then repost this and title the post as "Gay Rights". If you don't believe in gay rights, then just ignore this. Thanks.

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.

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unscripted

Oct. 2nd, 2006 | 12:05 pm
temper: energeticenergetic
happy music: dolorisme by la fee decadence

yay
i write for unscripted now. it's a pain in the butt yet a pleasure at the same time (for lack of better words). i like to write. they give me a time limit to write this, this, and this, and i write it then i send it in and see it in the paper in about a week. it's a pretty simple process. i just hope i don't bug the living shit out of the editor...lol

-sam-

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nope, nothing at all

Aug. 30th, 2006 | 09:17 pm

[mood| good]
[music|'Snakes on a Plane(Bring It)-Cobra Starship]


i know this is extremely pointless but if i cared would i have thought of posting this?? i don't think so.
well, anyway, i went jogging with kate. now here's something to ponder. i have not washed my hair since monday but (since i was curious) my head, after that run, smells really good, like my shampoo. that is something to ponder. i feel better now, less like a fat, overweight cow that i was before the run. i worked my buns and barely stopped. i feel goooooooddd.
yay endorphins!
yay for pointlessness!!!!
lol

-sam-

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nope, nothing at all

Aug. 30th, 2006 | 12:32 am

[mood| chipper]

Name: Sam
Location: pa
What do you love about Sleeping Beauty: the animation, the story, everything.
Favorite character: hmm...flora, sleeping beauty, and prince phillip...and malevacent.
Favorite Song: erm...the one the fairies sing about cleaning up.
Do you prefer the pink or blue dress, and why? the pink b/c i could not pull off the blue one. and it's prettier.
Anything else? nope. i don't think so.

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boredom. yay.

Aug. 21st, 2006 | 10:37 pm

[mood| bored]
[music| me talk pretty - 'illusion']


hello, ppl who read this stuff. i am bored...which is not at all a suprise to people who actually know me and my whereabouts (i.e. kate). my internet was out for a few days. it came back yesterday. i'm thinking of writing but will probably just stare at the screen for a half an hour until kate, being roused by some unknown sound in the living room (she's asleep at the moment), comes barrelling sleepily to the top of the steps, pissed off for no apparent reason, and bellows for me to get off the goddamn computer and go to bed. so predictable....*rolls eyes* i know people think i'm weird (i do too) but do i really give a damn???? nope....yay.

-sam-

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sit and marvel the glamourous disarray, my dear...my poem...

Aug. 2nd, 2006 | 02:05 pm
spot: family room durrr

[mood| contemplative]
[music|some MCR song stuck in my head]


Untitled
Sit and marvel the glamorous disarray,
My dear.
Such tides in waves of variously colored lipsticks, glosses,
And perfume bottles,
Scattering my bedroom floor
All bear the same enigma:
Beauty.

What is this….?
This BEAUTY?
What does it do?
Where,
may I thunderously inquire,
Does it come from?

Does this BEAUTY originate from a desire
To outmatch each other’s looks?
To attract and capture various specimens
Of the Opposite Sex?
(Or the same sex, if that is what you prefer)

But still,
Though my senses may whisper
In the darkest corners of my most precious mind
I still look eighty-eight times better than I usually do
When raven-tinted Mascara is applied
To enhance my beauteous eyes.

-sam-

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sopping scripts, broken twigs, and rumbling lunder

Jul. 20th, 2006 | 10:17 am
spot: family room, duh

[mood| energetic]
[music|L'Europe et L'Asie - La Fee Decadence]

so, tuesday night was practice for the play 'twinderella.' it started out, you know, as your typical july day at six o'clock; humid, rather warm, and quite sunny with a small dappling of sluggish white clouds roaming across a robin's egg blue sky. then as everybody deemed it necessary to show up, we went in, to battle the sound barrier with our clarion voices against the resounding rumbling of the quartet of fans placed conveiniently in all four corners of the wrec auditorium. we went through the play, of course, took a ten minute break and then immediately got back to work, as the play is next friday and saturday. it started to rain in between these things but we paid it no mind; the play is next week for christ's sake! now, as the arrival of lou[ise] the ups [girl] was announced by who other than louise herself, steph the may queen, the storm could be ignored no longer; the power flickered out! and i mean that, the lights dimmed for a couple of seconds, went back, dimmed, went back and then, on an especially pernicious rumble and bolt of thunder and lightning all of the power in the wrec was totally out!! so then some ppl screamed, others whipped out their cell phones and shined their brilliant blue light on the darkened objects in front of them (except for me and steph, of course, cuz we don't have cell phones). so then charlie (the director) told us to gather around and move out of the auditorium in one big group. steph's mom came and got her and i hitched a ride to their house with them and wore steph's clothes until my mom came and got me. i still have yet to give steph her clothes back....lol

mood by: crackified

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nope, nothing at all

Jul. 14th, 2006 | 11:04 am

[mood| mellow]
[music|jimi hendrix - purple haze]

you know, i'm just gonna keep posting journals just so i can use my new mood theme even though the only person that's gonna read them is beth pretty much. and possibly my sister but we don't care about her (hahaha jk). oy, i made great strides on my story yesterday and i feel all proud of it. i need to read over what i wrote though, cuz i am perfectionist when it comes to writing for the most part. and i need to finish that part and refreshing the tired-old memory by reading is good. you know, jimi hendrix is just pumping me up.....:) lol

-sam-

mood by: crackified

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first try with the new mood theme

Jul. 13th, 2006 | 10:27 am
spot: where do you think i am??

[mood| weird]
[music|mon frere - you don't mind]

okay, yesterday i downloaded a "romeo + juliet" mood theme cuz i'm a freak like that (hell yea!!) and i love that movie. so, i am about to do what crackified (the person that made it) said to do and it better work. then i might do the interview with the vampire thingie i downloaded so hehehehehehe....lol

-sam-

mood by: crackified

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nope, nothing at all

Jul. 12th, 2006 | 09:43 am
spot: family room

[mood| chipper]

ooohh wow. this is my first lj entry thingie. so, to squeeze in something pointless here, i'm watching the notebook, thinking about writing, and looking forward to listening to music....:)

have a jollyass day.

-sam-

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