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Wednesday, January 29, 2003
If I ever get AIDS, I'm killing myself. Gay pride, empowerment, and rights can go fuck themselves and then wipe their bloody butt-fucked ass on the Rainbow Flag, I don't care. If an AIDS test comes back positive, I'm eating a bullet.

I already look like I have AIDS (or that I am a heroin addict), why would I want to lose more weight and get bigass lesions all over my face and body? Who do you think I am, Matthew Kopp (love your work, buddy! Keep searching me!)?

I suppose you're wondering why I've suddenly pondered the nature of STDs. Is the sex-drought broken? Has the cemented-up dam wall been penetrated, washing away my prior patheticness in a sea of creamy white man-o-naise? Uhm, no (and I'm totally considering removing Coles Dude from my LOVES list entirely, cunting hot-muscled ripped pretty-boy jackass). We are just still on Channel Ten's yearly cycle, and Philidelphia was on. It's probably the only film I like in Tom Hanks' repertoire, and yet I still can't watch it. He is just so. Damn. Ugly.

Luckily Dangerous Minds was on, so I watched that instead. Damn, it's a great movie. Rocking out to Coolio, hideous and low class teen actors? Sweet. I can't tell which is better, Dangerous Minds, or Sister Act II. Which one has the sassier black kids who have emotional strength and talent despite their hardships and obstacles?