Hintu wrong-do � � � Monday, Oct. 20, 2003 * 02:47

Yes, I know my guestbook is fucked up. (not really, I fixed it! Would you please look at it and sign it?!)

In MORE INTERESTING, but related, news, I am really good at using commas.

But for real. I'm trying to make this epic, meaningful, important website. A blog to be specific. I wanted to use pitas.com.

Andrew, please tell me that your servers are only on crack for just this weekend, and that they will be functional in the near future?

All I want to do is make this blog. I don't want to talk about it yet, not until it's done. But it has to do with something that's important to me and, I believe, to all of us. The sooner I get it up and running, the happier I'll be. I could just host it elsewhere, but everyone else wants money or a blowjob or my soul, and everyone else hosts pedophiles and weird scrubs and that's just not the right place for this.

The right place is pitas, but pitas died.

I just realized that there is a very good chance that 100% of the people reading this have 0% of a clue as to what I'm talking about.

Haha, you dumb sons of bitches.

I'm going to bed. If my mom was right with her haunting prediction, I'm going to get raped and murdered tonight in my sleep. Why? Because I sleep with the window open. I've been sleeping with the window open since April, but since my mother now knows of this sinful, insolent and inept behavior, tonight is the night my luck will expire, and the night that will find me defiled, pillaged, and slain by vigilantes, thugs, and deviants who will walk past the police station down the road, along the dead-end road to my apartment, and navigate a labyrinth of other open-windowed apartments, choose mine, and step through my screen doors.

I wonder if I could sleep through a rape. I slept through sex once. Oh wait, no, that was my dream where Bill Murray and I got married.

Man, he's hot. Old and hot. Oh shut up.