Smoking Area
My name is Mark Kent. Steal my lighter and we'll be on uneven terms.
Wednesday, May 28
You know… even after having over half a bottle of JD -- my opinion hasn’t changed one bit.
Tom Cruise was hottest as LeStat. And not just ANY LeStat or THE LeStat. More like LeStat slowly decaying and freaking people out, playing the piano LeStat.
I’d do him.
So, as you can tell, my house mates (aside from the terribly cool Dennis -- this shot’s for you ) are trying to get me to stop smoking. HA. Like that’ll work. Sasha’s confident that he can call on Dimitri and tie me up then threaten me with dresses.
This isn’t going to be legible at all is it? If I can’t smoke, I’ll turn to the next best thing.
Mm… alcohol.
Like that Bare Naked Ladies band (who oddly enough are neither bare, naked, OR ladies -- they’re Canadians) and their alcohol song. That’s the only one I like, and I’ll drink to it right now.
Dimitri’s been sleeping in my bed. I feel like fucking Goldie Locks. No… ouch, my eyes. My brain. The vision. It BURNS.
Mm… even as LeStat on fire. I’d still do him.
I think I have a supplier for my cigarettes. Quit? Fuck that! Here’s another drink to my supplier… who oddly enough… has his own… suppliers.
Get this, they called the local Seven 11... 7 Eleven… whichever and told them not to sell ME cigarettes! Like I’m a child molester or sex offender. (There is NOTHING offensive about having sex with me.)
I still have my dignity though. Not a soul under this roof can see me like this. There’s going to be booze all over my shoes. My nice shoes. The ones that everyone loves to step on. These are my favorite shoes and if they weren’t on my feet -- I’d kiss them.
Even barefoot, I’d still do him.
Well, I hope he’d be barefoot, but… whatever floats his boat. And I’ll drink to that, too.
So I’m taking care of Oliver, and he’s so. He won’t sit still, he won’t shut up, he won’t go to sleep. And then Dimimirtir comes in and is all “I’m Richard Simmons!” and they get worked up. I was/am expecting(praying) they’d go into like… adult mode and just screw each other’s heads off or something. Me sit there and watch? No. That’s something I think I don’t want to see. Burning. Dimitri and Oliver. The pain.
I’d expect them to bust out in sparkly clothes and pink feathers and make-up. They’d be like… a really bright… thing, and it’d hurt my eyes.
Even in a pink feather boa… I’d still do him.
God I’m horny...
.: posted by Mark 1:48 AM
Tuesday, May 27
That last entry is so not true. Of course I love my fellow tenants from the depths of my soul. I feel that special sort of serenity when a mother holds her young children whenever they are around. They are the light of my life.
BULL SHIT.
They are all so going to hell.
.: posted by Mark 1:48 AM
Tuesday, May 27
I hate this house. I hate the people in it. Allow me to get specific…
I hate Dimitri, Sasha, Oliver, and Dennis. I hate the camera girl. I hate the little lacey curtain in the kitchen window. I hate the pork in the fridge that some dipshit left uncovered to DRY OUT for God knows HOW many days.
I hate the ocean which is right over there and everywhere. I hate those faggots in the bar that tried to pick me up. I hate this bastard show because they let people be tortured like this.
I hate Aloc-Cola. It tastes like watered down Kool-aid that was left in the sun for nine days while birds used it as a toilet. Then after they were done with it because of the smell ALONE some a-hole up top decides to bottle it and give it some shitty ass name. How mind-fuckingly numb do you have to be to take a sip of some beverage named “Aloc-Cola” and go “Mm! This here is the shiz-nit!” No one likes this crap. Dog droppings have to taste better than this shit. Why isn’t there some RC Cola around? Or fucking beer? I sure could go for some hard ass liquor right about now.
Speaking of hard asses, the bastard housemates of mine have decided to gang up on me and get me to quit smoking. I ran out of fucking Winterfresh three hours ago. If I step outside I get followed around like a fucking old HAG with bread crumbs for rabies infested PIGEONS. And those damned pigeons are Dimitri and Sasha. If I wasn’t sure there were some way I could this situation against them later, I’d so rape their asses.
No I wouldn’t.
Yeah I would. Those pricks deserve it. I should march out there right now, tie them up, and hold them all hostage -- taking them one at a time.
God, what am I thinking? Sasha’s like, “teehee, drink water! Taste it! It tastes better than those evil sticks! It’ll make you feel GOOD!” I want to kill him. I want to crucify Dimitri. If I so much as LOOK at an ashtray the little prick squirts me with a fucking water gun. Not just any water gun, one of those… I guess they’re spray bottles they use for training DOGS. Do I LOOK like I have fleas? If I was a dog I’d bite their ankles. All of their ankles.
I’m going to brave leaving my room and walk around the block. No doubt I’ll have company following me to the drug store.
I hate Sweethearts and gummi worms now...
.: posted by Mark 1:48 AM
Sunday, May 18
Dennis and I had our date last night. It was very interesting right from the start.
For one reason or another, Dimitri was our chauffeur. Dennis spotted a shabby looking pool and bar house, so we decided to stop there. Dennis told Dimitri to return at ten o clock to pick us up and then we entered.
Of all places to discover, it was a gay pool/bar house.
We spent most of the time drinking and smoking. I was actually enjoying myself until the waitress came. I didn’t quite catch her name, but I’m afraid it was for the best. I heard the gentleman at the seat next to us talking to the bartender about the “funny language” in movies in fantasy settings. She responded, “That’s Roman, y’know. The language of love.”
I was dying inside.
After a while we were invited to a game of pool by what some twins. They were so terrible smelling, they made Dennis look like Rupert Everett. One of them attempted to flirt with me. I felt violated.
Anyway, we exited the bar around eleven or so and were greeted with a very pissed off Dimitri. He was mumbling to himself the whole way home. Every time he tossed his head I wanted to tug at a strand of purple. He called me “Big Brother” a couple of times. I’m still not quite sure what to think of that.
The next day the MBC Rep was at the house. He started talking about the freaks we met at the club last weekend. The man must have recently quit smoking because the first time I pulled them out he acted as though he would fly across the room to steal them. I have no idea what he said, I was too busy trying to get him to walk over and ask for one.
He did fly over and steal one, eventually.
He brought his child with him. I felt a little uneasy about that. This child was a little different, however, he kicked Dennis in the groin and ran upstairs.
Dennis followed and as I was tormenting the rep with my smokes we could hear a series of crashes and shouts. It was beginning to give me a headache, so I left to smoke outside. Naturally, I could still hear them, so I went inside and after the bathroom door was opened I entered with the Rep and held Dennis against the wall.
The Rep took his kid out of there quickly and then Dennis made some odd remark and left.
It was a very eventful weekend for Dennis and myself. I could use a vacation right about now.
.: posted by Mark 1:47 AM
Thursday, May 15
The freak show around here is getting worse. I wasn’t aware that I’d be a full time baby-sitter. The good news since my previous entry - it seems as though no one inside this house will hassle me much. The bad news - I will not consume cake for as long as I can help it.
Oliver had his 20th birthday last weekend. I spent three days in the art district hunting down something to give him. I had never heard of a manga artist before, so I did the next best thing and bought him a calligraphy set. To sign his name at least.
We now have two ferrets and a dog in the house. I just hope the furniture won’t reek of pet dander.
After we displayed our gifts, all of us (minus the notorious Mr. MIA) proceeded towards the club. It wasn’t all that bad. The bar was pleasantly out of the way of the dance floor and there was even a reasonable sitting area. Deciding the birthday boy needed an extra special present from his sweetheart later that night, Sasha and I bought them soda with some rum mixed in. I believe it took three glasses for Oliver and not too much more than that for Dimitri to acquire a nice buzz.
Our fun was cut short, however, when a young girl arrived and clung to Oliver like a magnet. She led him off somewhere and beckoned for us to follow. We did, a little ways before seeing a rather large birthday cake. I’m not a fan of sweet things so I looked on warily as the girl talked and talked. Then it clicked in my exhausted brain that perhaps it would be a good idea to get as far away from that abnormally large cake as possible.
Too late, the apocalypse occurred.
Oliver had the most confused look on his face as a pink, sparkling -- FLAMER -- pops out of the cake and proceeds to sing him “Happy Birthday”. But this individual was not alone, oh no, he had brought along a few friends with him who also appeared out of the cake.
Is this what Miami is like?
We were all able to escape, but not before Camden took a group photo. For the rest of the time we spent at the club we were stalked by either a stripper or the pink, sparkly guy. I am at complete loss for an applicable term to speak of him as.
Seems he works with Sasha. Sasha regretted speaking with the… guy, and when we had our fill (which did not take long, I assure you) we stole Dimitri’s car and left the scene. I honestly do hope I do not meet up with this person again. But that most likely will not happen.
Seems my first date is this coming weekend. With Mr. MIA. Well, better now than later, right? I just hope we go someplace where cakes are not allowed to be brought in.
.: posted by Mark 1:46 AM
Monday, May 5
So this is Florida. I must set a reminder in Gidget for a shopping appointment. My suits are not exactly humidity friendly.
My thoughts right now lie upon the lack of furniture in my room. I assume the network will be filling it up with furnishings again. If any of them are able to see this, I request a bookcase at least. My own private desk and shelving would be greatly appreciated once I begin my graduates.
I suppose the individuals responsible for assigning these journals would rather read my feelings on the show. The idea is original, nonetheless, but I seriously doubt the viewers will be seeing me prancing around in sequence and feathers. I abhor the parade costumes, so you know. I find that sort of atmosphere to be disgraceful.
The other tenants are bearable. However, I’m sure the newcomer façade has yet to diminish. I wonder how much longer it will be before everyone becomes a drama or disco queen. I had them figured out before meeting all four of them properly. Granted, I’m at the advantage having entered post premier night. I see there is already a potential couple. Shouldn’t the show end already then? No? Very well.
Oliver and Dimitri need obedience lessons. Public displays of affection are no issue to me, but molestation and open groping is a completely different story. No, they aren’t actually feeling each other up, but might as well be. They seem rather innocent about their “relationship” from what my source (Dimitri) tells me. Just another example of the “don’t let appearances deceive you” phrase. That child will need careful watching. If he doesn’t break Oliver, he’ll end up breaking his heart. Not that I’m partial to the boy or anything, but he’s far too gullible. Both need to be put on short leashes.
Speaking of, I did buy Dimitri a collar. It started as a joke when I first met Oliver, Sasha, and Dimitri. But after sitting there listening to Oliver and seeing the two invade each other’s personal space -- I felt it necessary. Perhaps I’ll go buy a matching leash later on this week. Then Oliver can walk his “Dimi-Kitty” around town.
Sasha seems like fun. He is probably the neat/health freak of the house. But I won’t hold it against him. I myself cannot stand messes, but I am by no means a diligent housekeeper. I can let just about anything slide, except dirty socks laying on the floor.
We are all supposed to go to a club this coming weekend, which also happens to be Oliver’s birthday. I know this because Dimitri and I looked around at his gift to Oliver. The place is going to turn into a petting zoo. I hope they all get their shots.
All right, enough wasting time with this thing. I need a smoke anyway. Ta-ta.
.: posted by Mark 1:38 AM
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