Log in

Spot's Journal [entries|friends|calendar]

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

I fucking love this holiday. [01 Apr 2005|05:23pm]
[ mood | mischievous ]

[Custom Friended: Tag Blocked]




(No one leave their favorite shirts hanging up in the bathroom, okay?)

21 comments|post comment

[26 Jan 2005|05:46am]
[ mood | sore ]

[Private Entry]

Ow. SHIT. She definitely broke my fucking RIB.

...I REALLY like her.

post comment

[26 Jan 2005|05:39am]
[ mood | pissed off ]


Just so the world knows, not all Catholics are fucking whackjobs.

In other news, as you probably know from all those fucking flyers everywhere, my father is doing a reading of his new book on campus this Saturday. YOU ARE NOT GOING. And you are NOT fucking telling him that you live on my hall. NO ONE IS TO HAVE ANY CONTACT WITH MY FATHER. Or ELSE.

I hate this fucking hall. I hate this fucking room. From now on I'm definitely doing my studying over at...someone's.

post comment

[22 Jan 2005|03:40pm]
[ mood | pissed off ]

You're all shitheads, the whole fucking lot of you. Christ.

...All right, except Mush. But the REST of you.


13 comments|post comment

Jesus Fucking Christ [12 Oct 2004|04:09pm]
[ mood | pissed off ]

GOD. My mother just called, and she's fucking coming up to visit, because she was so fucking worried about me last week. CHRIST. I cannot fucking deal with her. At least Dad is on a book tour, otherwise there would be serious fucking trouble. Mom is bad, but the two of them together is a fucking NIGHTMARE.

So I have to have fucking DINNER with my MOM on Friday fucking night. JESUS. I tried telling her that I had a prior commitment, but did she listen? Of course fucking not. So I have to skip my...uh, other thing, and go to dinner.

(Race, she wants you to come. Said she promised your mom she'd check up on you or some bullshit. I told her I'd ask. I know it fucking sucks, but can you?)

2 comments|post comment

Back to Purgatory [10 Oct 2004|08:19pm]
[ mood | indescribable ]

GOD, it was nice to get away from this fucking school. Obviously none of you guys gave a shit about where we were (and we're SO glad you were SO concerned...good to know Specs cares, at least), but my mother made up for it by leaving me forty thousand fucking messages. I'm so fucking glad I left my cell in my dorm. I hope it woke Race up a few times.

So, YES, I went to Mass with Jack and David. Because they are my only fucking friends, and I was DAMNED PROUD to be there. And now I have some wonderfully tasteless T shirts and two very happy friends, and I can deal with this school. Because I have to.

Race, if you want to bury the hatchet, I saved the most tasteless T shirt for you.

14 comments|post comment

[05 Oct 2004|06:44pm]
Private Entry

Thank God for Jack and David.
post comment

[05 Oct 2004|01:02am]
Private Entry

I'm sorry.
post comment

I HATE EVERYTHING [05 Oct 2004|12:43am]
[ mood | pissed off ]

If Tag only fucking knew what these fucking journals would lead to, he would have chopped off his own fucking nuts before making us do this. Tag, I hope you're fucking THRILLED.

Okay. Fine. Mush and I fucked up. The fucking usual from good old Spot, right? But Mush is a surprise, isn't he? Poor little darling Mush, led astray by Big Bad Spot. Listen, none of you know SHIT, okay? So just shut your goddamned faces.

Mush, you're a collossal idiot. You think with your fucking cock. So you're in love with Blink, okay. Everyone fucking KNOWS. Poor guy's a piece of meat to the queers in this school already, as you should know, since you SAW THE POST. Stop doing stupid fucking things over a guy who's straight and stop rolling over for him everytime he blinks that big eye of his at you and asks you "Golly, Mushie, what's wrong?" You're fucking KILLING yourself. STOP IT.

Race, STEP THE FUCK OFF. This has NOTHING to do with you, stop acting so fucking wounded. Go play with your new boyfriend.

Everyone else, MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. My private business is just that, and you can all fuck yourselves if you think I'm telling or that you have any fucking right to know. STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME.

4 comments|post comment

[13 Sep 2004|06:32pm]
[ mood | worried ]

[Private Entry]



I just beat the crap out of Snitch.

I can't believe I'm writing in this stupid fucking thing. But I can't talk to Blink because, duh, the roommate thing, and Mush will, like, cry, and Jack'll just call me an asshole and drag me to Tag's room, and I don't really want to talk to anyone anyway. And Race is out taking pictures of fucking squirrels or something, thank GOD, because I don't want to deal with his shit. And there's no hiding it, not when he sees my face.

It was so fucking stupid. I was going to the bathroom, and I Snitch was in there. And I called him an asshole, because, you know, he is one, and people have been calling ME a fucking homophobe ever since he said that dumbass thing to Skittery, and just because I'm not running around in hotpants doesn't make me a fucking homophobe and I should fucking kick ALL their asses, even Race. Even Jack. But I can't because that labels me a homophobe even though I'm fucking NOT and no one will think that they were just being assholes. Honestly, people sometimes need to get the shit kicked out of them. I don't see what's so wrong about that. And I don't see why just because I'm not a fucking FAG, I'm a fucking HOMOPHOBE.

But anyway, I called him an asshole, and he's all like, "What's your problem, Spot? Race pisses you off just as much as he does me." And that's not true--Race pisses me off WAY more than anyone else--and I was like, "Don't you fucking talk to me about Race." And he was like, "Why not? He's making my life hell for no reason."

And I was like, "The reason is that you're a fucking HOMOPHOBE, Snitch, and you're treating half the people on this hall like they're going to hell because you're a fucking idiot ASSHOLE and you don't fucking DESERVE to have people like Mush and Blink and Jack be nice to you because you're a piece of SHIT and you probably say that bullshit because you're a fucking fag yourself and you don't know what the hell to do with yourself when Mush runs around naked or something and so you act like an asshole because you're scared to FUCKING DEATH of something that you can't control because it's fucking INSIDE of you and have no idea what to do about it and you don't want God to hate you and you don't want your parents to hate you and you don't want to be some FUCKING DEMOGRAPHIC and so you act like this macho piece of shit so that no one knows that you have no idea what the FUCK you want and meanwhile everyone in your path gets run over because you don't have time to stop and explain that you're only treating them like shit because you're so GODDAMN FUCKING SCARED."

And then he said the most dumbass stupid fucking thing. He was like, "Don't tell me what I think or feel just because you've got some weird straight crush on Race." And he was gonna say more but he REALLY needed to be punched in the face.

So I punched him, and he was like, "Spot, you PUNCHED me!" and I was like, "No shit, Sherlock. Don't make me fucking do it again." And he tried to hit me back, but he's a fucking trumpet player, he couldn't fight for shit. Okay, so yeah, my nose won't stop bleeding, and my eye'll probably be black soon and my arm hurts like a BITCH, but I kicked his ass. Totally.

But he's on the floor and I'm punching him in the face, over and over again and I can't stop and he's a fucking bloody mess and my hand's bleeding a lot now so it was probably partly mine, but all of a sudden I was like "What the fuck am I DOING?" I just hated him SO FUCKING MUCH then. And I don't normally hate people, except Race and that doesn't count, but I wanted to KILL HIM. And I haven't felt like that since I came to Donnelly, or at least, I don't feel like that when I'm AT Donnelly. I want to punch people sometimes, like Mr. and Mrs. Jack Kelly when they're being all "No, YOU'RE cuter," but I don't want to KILL them like I do the assholes back home. And when I realized that I was going to kill this kid, this kid who's my age, who didn't do anything but same some nasty shit to me, I started heaving and I went over to the toilet and puked.

And then I came back and he was still lying there, and I gave him some wet paper towels and we washed our faces and I brushed my teeth and we tried to stop the bleeding but neither of us really did. And then we went back into our rooms, but we didn't say anything and I have no idea what the fuck he's thinking. Or what people are gonna say.

And the worst part is I can't even get expelled.

post comment

[08 Sep 2004|11:21pm]
[ mood | pissed off ]

Happy fucking birthday, Jack. Okay? Come by later and get your fucking present.

Blink's game made me sort of miss baseball. Fucking BASEBALL. I wasn't as good as Blink, though. And third base was fucking boooooring. The only parts I really liked were fighting, and scuffing up dust. And trash-talking.

And yes, I know it was a soccer game. But I think Blink, I think baseball. Or something. Anyway Blink's good at both. He's fucking BLINK.

Hockey. Now THERE'S a sport. Too bad they don't have a fucking team here.

Classes fuckiing suck, universally. As do fucking parents. My mother called me practically in tears again because I won't play the fucking violin. And my fucking dad said if I don't get higher than a C in English this year he'll take away my car. My FUCKING CAR. FUCK. I hate my parents.

3 comments|post comment

[05 Sep 2004|01:15pm]
[ mood | cheerful ]

Race is a parTICularly lovely shade of green today. He looks like the Wicked Witch of the West. And he's spent all morning staggering into the bathroom and back and groaning. It's extremely satisfying. Maybe this will teach him not to drink all of my booze. Or any of it. Ever.

He's also very sensitive to noise. This typing is driving him crazy. (Jack and Snitch, I noticed you wanted to get some more practice in. Feel free to do it in here.)

Fuck, I'm in a good mood.

6 comments|post comment

you little bitch [31 Aug 2004|05:55pm]
[ mood | pissed off ]




3 comments|post comment

[28 Aug 2004|01:09am]
[ mood | pissed off ]

I can't believe I have to keep this fucking thing.

I can't believe I'm back at this fucking school.

At least I have the room to myself until the Whore of Babylon gets back here.


6 comments|post comment

[ viewing | most recent entries ]