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04:15am 11/08/2005
  I don't like Livejournal. I may be moving to Myspace permanently. And by that I mean like forever. Wait. That's such a strong word. Forever. I don't know. DAMNIT! You've done it again, River. How am I going to sleep tonight if I still have it in me to make grand statements such as moving to Myspace "forever". Shit. There's the self-effacement my shrink told me about.

How old am I now, like 40? And I'm talking about forever. Shiiiiit. Well, at least I'm not C. Thomas Howell.



Okay, did Stand By Me rip off The Outsiders or vice versa?

FUCK. OKAY. Another thing hanging over my head! Am I merely a copy or did I create something so good it *had* to be copied?

Am I a copy?
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02:55am 07/04/2005
  There's an anonymous person who keeps replying to my journal. I asked Snoop about it and he denied it.

(I think it's him)

I'm contemplating getting a Myspace. I think Snoop is on it. That would double my friends from one to two.

Sweet. Bet you can't say you doubled your friends today, can you?

I'm pathetic.

Snoop stole my PSP and won't return it. He's going on tour tomorrow and says he needs it in case the XBOX on the bus breaks down.

I'm not down with this whole "talk like Snoop" thing. I feel so dirty saying that. And not to mention uncomfortable.

In other news, I got offered a few more movie roles. I'm playing a "gay ass dike fag loser" in six of them.
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OMG! Problem solved!   
01:24am 13/03/2005

Okay guys, I worked on that problem with Snoop thanks to the above website.

Normally, he'd say things like, "yo, why you flossin', River?" and I'd reply with, "I told you already, I floss after meals only... I'm not currently flossing... I don't know what you're talking about."

I don't know.

But, now, thanks to urbandictionary.com, I'm going to say this one...

Snoop: Yo, why (are) you flossing?
Me: I ain't, dawg. Your sister has a cabbage patch snatch.
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02:19pm 15/02/2005

I think I solved the Snoop situation.

He came over to play video games and drink beer on Sunday, post-Grammy time, and we talked. Like, I made us some herbal tea, brought out the lady fingers, turned up the heat, and we just, you know, had a nice talk. It lasted about six, seven minutes before Snoop had to take off, but it was nice.

I don't know. We'll see how it goes. I haven't called him a nigger yet (nigger, as in brother, not nigger as in Mississippi) because I still don't know how to approach it. I mean, I would start saying stuff like, "Haha. That's funny, Snoop, my nig..." then he'd cock his eyebrow and look really intimidating. I don't mean to sound like a pussy... But he definitely has a posse ("crew", not vagina). He hangs out with the blue gang and doesn't like the red team.

This is all too complicated for my tiny, tiny self. Why can't I figure out this alternate greeting thing? Don't people say homeslice anymore? Is that too 90s? And speaking of the 1990s, where's Hammer?

Correction: where Hammer at?

I think I'm getting a hang of this. That's how Snoop talks. He doesn't like being called Snoopy. Charlie Brown was ugly and Peanuts was a stupid comic. Haha. Pea!

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01:14am 13/02/2005
  It's like I've been dead or something. Neglecting my journal and all.

On Friday, we saw Finding Neverland with Chuck and Denise (such a bitch, but she has nice tits so I'll let it slide). He's not fun anymore. I blame the bitch.

Anyway, back to the movie. Johnny is still a pussy and when we go out for muay thai food and apple martinis later, I'm going to fucking tell him this. He wore tights and shit. I wish he got killed in Secret Window, but like it was actually him and not actually his character. Like if life immitated art and stuff and he died. Like got his head crushed in a vice and stuff.

Sorry. I'm off-topic. I should blame the speedballs, but I'll just blame my fried imagination. Still, Johnny is a pussy.

I met Will Wheaton for brunch on Thursday at Dennis' and his career has derailed. He's doing the voice for some video game now. And he isn't even the star (that would be Snoop Dogg, my nigger), he's some backing guy named like CASHIER 34. Anyway, I played that game when it came out and I made special notice to shoot him in the face and rob him. Grand Theft Auto. I have it on the PlayStation. This one time, Snoop came over and did wheelies for six hours and wouldn't give me the controller. When I asked for it, he would call me a nigger. I'm not really sure how to respond to that.

Haven't seen Rob JR in a while. He's a singer now. He does showtunes like Chicago and Hot in Herre. Snoop hates that song. Rob can sing better than those American Idol people. I've heard through the grapevine that his falsetto is bitching. Snoop calls him a nigger though. Rob once called me to talk about how offensive we find Snoop's usage of that word to be. We don't know how to bring it up.

In other news, I was offered a film role today. I play a disgruntled former childstar who has to move in with relatives after my house burns down. I don't know what it's called. Actually, I haven't read the script. But this was the first time someone has actually left a message on my answering machine in a year, so I had to take the role and be nice in hopes that he'd call again. I mean, I get phone calls all the time, but I have my ringer go off to machine after sixteen rings so I never miss a call. I mean, this was the first time that someone has had to leave me a message. I get lucky when I'm out and I don't get calls or people hang up before the sixteen rings is up. I mean, would I have gotten more messages if I only had fifteen rings? I mean, mang. I shouldn't think about these things. They tend to upset me. FAAAAACK. How am I going to get to sleep tonight with this hanging over my head?


Snoop just called.

Fuck mang, Snoop is really getting on my nerves. Okay. He comes over, plays on my computer, smokes all my weed and cigarettes (then tells me he's thinking about quitting and says he's not sure how to handle being all emotional "and shit"), raids my fridge, takes the LAST Reese cup from the candy stash, and possibly doesn't wash his hands when leaving the bathroom. Then there's that nigger thing. And he calls me sometimes when he's high to talk about stuff and his "crew". I don't understand it.

I mean, the guy clearly has a posse and is connected to baddddddd people (bad as in good AND bad as in bad, if you can imagine. I mean, I can't. I've never met someone who can co-exist with two radically different meanings for the same word before. He's double-bad, but much badder. He's like triple-bad. Is badder a word? Batter? Ah hell. There's that tangent. That's a funny word. Tangent. Hah. Only an asshole could invent a word like tangent and actually have it mean something). And he always asks me if I'm "stepping". What does that mean? I always tell him, "well, not in those words exactly" and he laughs, says he likes me, drinks my beer, and calls me a nigger. I only say that because I have no idea what he's saying half the time! HELP! How do I respond to this? Any suggestions?

Guys, I'm really apprehensive about calling him a nigger back. I've been watching documentaries a lot lately, about the south, and stuff, and black people like Snoop don't like being called niggers. I mean, should I take a chance and call him a nigger back and hope he "gets it"? FAAAAAAACK. Does Snoop understand irony? Do I understand irony? What is irony? That's another funny word. Y BECAUSE I IRON! but it doesn't mean that. Rambling again. But seriously, Snoop. Why? I hope he gets an LJ so we can talk about this cryptically. I hope he allows anonymous comments, so that I can talk to him and get a feel for how he is online and stuff. I mean, I know him in person, but online, you get a different sense of a person. Snoop doesn't LOL a lot. I mean, we talked on MSN when I needed to get my hand towels back from him when he borrowed them for I don't remember why? Why don't I remember why? Shit!

There I go again. Worrying myself until I won't be able to sleep.
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The Attic...   
08:18pm 24/07/2002
  We were supposed to go on tour today, but I had a massive hangover. I learned today that you can't cure headaches with black tar heroin (although it makes you feel all jellowy inside).  
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This weekend was ROWDY!   
01:57am 09/07/2002
  Fog (that's her name, isn't it?), my sister, came over on Friday. I proceeded to get smashed while she sat in the corner talking about her lack of film roles. Charlie, Johnny, and Robert JR came over afterwards and we shared some prime Hollywood bitches, on Chuck's gold card, of course. We then went to The Viper Room, and I really believe it's getting pass-the-fuck-e. There are so many celebrities passing out on the floor and sleeping there that I had to punch one in the face and blame it on my security guard. I then found out a homeless man was sleeping in my wallowing gutter, so I had my security team beat him up and steal his box (because I need to be warm, too) I was awakened by Samantha's friggin' voice, telling me she got a film role. I calmly told her that it's not 1985 and went back to sleep. When I woke up Saturday afternoon, I found out that people were selling star maps to my sleeping hole (gutter). The rest of the evening was spent dodging phone calls from my agent and talking with Chuck and the boys about how fat Roger Ebert is and how he only gives me good reviews because 'he sucks and is uber-fat and wants The River Wild'. Robert JR thought it was so funny that he snorted back four lines instead of his usual three, and about an hour later was arrested for trying to hump a police officer, claiming to be 'tha pah-tee poop-ah'. Chuck missed everything because he passed out from all the paid sex he was having and Johnny was opening the club. At the club, I touched four boobies. FOUR! We all passed out on a pool table in the VIP room while we were taking turns telling scary stories. I think Chuck shit his pants. After all, he is a pants-shitting fairy. Right before we passed out, I laughed at Robert JR for Chaplin. He then laughed at me for Little Nikita. He got the best of me. We then turned on the Deppster and called him 'a goth makeup wearing, scissor-handed pussy'. He threw a full bottle of rum at us, but it missed and shattered all over the floor. He then got cuts on his tongue from licking the floor. He was so gone!

I woke up on Sunday and went to church.

(this is a joke)
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