Billy Crystal playing Scarface
11 September 2004 at 10:27 pm

Happy 911! Can this be our new independence day, since we have freed ourselves from dignity and justifiable patriotism? Kerry on, folks.

I spent all of last night drinking vodka and juice and reading "Auntie Mame." After I read the last page, I put my cigarette out, hugged the book to my chest, rolled my eyes up to the ceiling and sighed deeply. By the time I had finished it, I wanted to make a blanket out of it and wear it around town like a cape. I desperately want to be so glamorous.

Narcissus possessed me when Aaron wanted me to meet me outside this morning. I bounced around in front of the mirror to the Clash making hypothetical dresses from skirts that no longer fit me until Aaron called to tell me to stop looking at myself. He knows me so well.

Have you noticed how strange Kirsten Dunst talks? Like she's inhaling while she enunciates? Or like she's a half a beat behind something? It annoys the fuck out me. That's ok; I didn't really need the fuck anyway.

One time when I was 16 and working at Applebee's, this guy invited me to a party. I don't know that I had ever really been invited to a party before but I played it cool and said, "Don't be pissed off if I don't go." But I gathered a few friends and went. I was kind of shocked when he introduced me to everyone and ended it with, "And this is my girlfriend." Who is he to be inviting hostesses to parties with his girlfriend? What kind of fucked up signal was that? Anyway, it was fun because he said, "Go on, get yourself a beer!" If my memory serves me correctly, I had had all of one beer out of the supervision of my parents at that point -- a Bud Light at a party my brother had thrown when my mom was out of town, so I wasn't real big with the keeping-it-cool-while-pretending-to-be-more-intoxicated-than-you-really-are vibe. I digress again. The funny part came when I went back into the living room and asked for a bottle opener and he said, "Uh ... it's a twist-off." My two friends laughed at me as I chuckled nonchalantly. My cover was completely blown and I was sufficiently humiliated so I decided the whole night was bullshit anyway and continued to make a fool of myself.

And since then, things haven't changed much. I'm the first to one-up my friends on embarrassing stories if it'll make them feel better. Tonight, I talked to David (who told me he was looking for a date to a swingers party in Koreatown) and ended the conversation with, "Don't pull a Morgan!" He queried as to what that would entail. I gave him a number of options, all of which began with, "Getting drunk, making out with a guy and _____." Endings to that phrase include "throwing up all over yourself in the middle of it," "navigating around a penis in a dorm shower," and "bleeding all over some guy's white sheets. Hey, I think you were there for that one." I believe I have chronicled all of those non-fiction experiences here. Google away!

one year ago today: "This is crazy." and "it's times like these when you can't help but love your mom."

two years ago today: "life is good."

three years ago today: "I think it's time I've come clean about something, and this isn't easy for me, but I need to admit it before I move on: I am a backrub whore."

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.