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mordicai caeli

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March 16th, 2004

(no subject) [Mar. 16th, 2004|07:35 am]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |pent-up violence.]
[Current Music |cmk- i fell asleep drinking]

man, fuck seven thirty (7:30 am).
spent my evening with mr. the fallen optimist & internet personality ravenface. oh, i guess also the girl who sells mr. the fallen optimist drugs was there for a little while. mostly matt & i ran at each other & collided, but there were also parts where we yelled about a piece of circuit board matt ripped out of a pinball machine, too. high-ho, high fucking ho. its off to fucking work i go. work was good, but all the fucking deaths hovered too long in the "almost" catagory. i almost stomped on that mouse, i almost cut victoria's face with a razor blade.

in a little more than an hour, i have a lab practical on vertebrae. it will be a mix of retardedly easy & stupidly difficult, because the teacher clearly lacks the ability to make up an exam that tests things worth knowing. so like, one question will be "what is the name of the body of this vertebrae (centrum)" & another will be...i dunno, something ridiculous, probably about a transitive vertebrae. something that only exsists in text books. at least the fat awful girl is in the hospital, so i will probably never have to see her again in my life.
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'cause he has a side-kick. [Mar. 16th, 2004|11:11 am]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |blow jobs.]
[Current Music |cmk feat. neutral milk hotel- dinosaurs are OK]

shit, i've got the naked girl blues- my lovely fucking girlfriend wandering around the apartment all this morning without a stitch of clothing on. & me having to go to osteology for a lab practical (which i did well on, thank you very much, because i am a fucking motherfuck of a fucking genius, fuck fuck). she came this close to getting molester (sic). sick sick sick, the things i'd do to her. in a motel. like we're fucking adulterers.

there is this girl in my osteology class that is now like, part of my group or whatever? though i hardly have a group; at 9:25 i hardly have a personality. i'm just a sociopath breezing through life looking at bones. but anyhow, this kind of chubby girl either has mind-blowingly perky tits, or she wears a push-up bra everyday. & push-up bras are uncomfortable, arn't they? or something? i don't know. also, the professors daughter was hanging around the classroom- she's probably a freshman or whatever, at some school in baltimore, but i totally flirted with her. passing the time or something. fuck. fuck. or something.
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rolly-polly. [Mar. 16th, 2004|01:19 pm]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |talkn' 'bout guts.]
[Current Music |crown me king- bifrost bridge is burning]

so, i'm not in japanese. of all places, i'm at home. my adventure uptown to school was cut short when i realized that i was an intestinal cripple. i mean, i was just doubled up with pain & agitation. so i came back to my apartment (my internal monolouge singing little dittys: "you are almost home. you are mordicai of the knife. you are mordicai of the knife. think about a knife.") everything worked out fine in the end, i didn't swell up like violet b. & i don't need a colostomy bag. but it was touch & go there for a minute, let me fucking tell you. it explains why i was feeling so fucktacular early this morning, though. i had a grapefruit sized spaceship made of tin foil lodged in my colon.

does anyone else think its funny that the new fad surgery is gastric by-pass? we antipate you being a fucking filth-pig who is unable to cease cramming your gullet with cornbread & mcdonalds hashbrowns, so we will break your stomach for you! thank us later with monetary reimbursement! & i mean, of course the results are amazing & all that rot. if the trough-feeders would quit snacking on oreos & crisco for a minute, they'd drop the pounds too. (disclaimer: i know absolutely nothing about this surgery from a medical perspective, & i think sharon osborne is a-okay.)
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