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Monday, April 05, 2004
My dumb sister got drunk this weekend and told my parents I was a faggot, ARGH! What a dumb cunting sluzza. I guess this is why some of those online journal writer losers confide in their "Live Journals" instead of people, because fucking Live Journals don't get wasted and blab their secrets at every opportunity. Bitch. Anyway, apparently my mum went all quiet and sad-esque, while Dad merely shrugged and continued with his witty anecdote about a patient or doctor-friend or some shit and sipped away at a martini. Hmph. Mum always tries to be this buddy-best-pal-you-can-tell-me-anything type person, but she's clearly not. Poor mum, she's a bit delusional. I mean, she likes, like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, but if she actually thought about it in terms of "Ted likes to lick salty anus" or "Jai takes it hard in the arse by hung leather S&M daddies" she'd totally back away. She's down with the 'mos, but only if she isn't blatantly confronted with it. Which is a shame, as I always wanted to come out the old fashioned way: having your parents walk in on you with some guy bent over a chair in the formal lounge biting into some embroidered cushions causing much "meep!"ing from me, and much pearl-clutching from them.

Hmm, I'm starting to sound like a homo with relationship issues, gag. Meh, they can stow it. But like, none of my friends cared! Maybe I could be that lame, whiney faggot who is all "woe is me, my parents hate me for being a cocksucker wah wah wah how will I ever get close to them all again". How would they know?! Shouldn't they be rushing to my side and supporting me? One just got up and left, saying she felt ill from having two (!!!) cocktails, and don't even get me started on fucking Cheekbones (his fucking boyfriend dragged him off, not even letting Cb stay for five minutes and totally snubbed me as well). Dick. Sorry, but men with blond foils in their hair do NOT get priority over me, you pindicked asshat.

Some people are so rude.

But speaking of moving on with my life, I've decided to finally get a job. I saw two possibilities in the paper: one was for a sex shop. How cool would that be? The other one was working in some fashion studio thing, which sounds like it's right up my alley, and I'd rock it. Of course it would be the gayest job ever, but I wasn't born to fucking work at McDonald's. That's what ugly people are bred to do.