8th of february. pen it down. its the most unlucky day ever. nothing is going my way. i can�t even type correctly. woke up thinking that the jamie kennedy show was on, but no, some brainless non-show about �two weeks notice� was on.

then my iPod ran out of power while i was out, and when i got back at 8:35 pm, i thought that �west wing� was on 9 pm, so i stopped the tape and rewound it. just now, i turned on the tv and �without prejudice?� was on. realised that i had recorded half of �west wing�, then without watching what was on, stopped the tape and rewound it.

i also thought that �taken� was on at the same time, but no, amy told me last night that it wasn�t. the same night, i found this t-shirt on the radiator of my bedroom, and wore it as a pyjama top. then i realised that i had worn it several times before to go to chinese food places. big, fat, greasy, smelly, chinese food places.

i feel a total jackass. i might as well write �ass� on my forehead to spite myself. you jackass, you.

i should do some maths, but i might do it all wrong cos i�m a jackass. and i can�t even begin to think about penelope cruz�s biographical ... thing. that long thing he gave us, the �biografia�, what a lie. it�s not a biography, its a bloody filmography in prose. i learnt more stuff about her from the 40 word profile than from that �biografia�. and i still can�t type.

i start every paragraph with "i". narcissistic much? and i could even spell narcissistic. i had to look the stupic word up. bloody. i think i should scream or sing really loudly, but my mouth is all greasy from crappy chinese food.

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th since 5th october 2001