The first cloned human was born today, mark it on your calender

[midgetlapdog]

Apparentally I have a waste of a great journal. Whoever wrote that was too scared to put her name. Ahh, how I love being a waste. The kiddo was up at 4 am today. Kris, if your reading I need to get with you about the sleeve I want. Toss around ideas and what not. Well X-Mas is over, thank god, the house looks like a Toys R Us threw up all over it.

Comments

[whysteriastar]

Who cares what other people think of your journal. That's so stupid.

[neinnamen]

I'm reading this. E-mail me some of the stuff you want, or call me o9r somthing, I can't find your number, and all my shit is packed up 'cause I'm moving. I'd be more than happy to do your sleeve. As for the person that so bavely posted anonymously that you have a wast of a journal. Fuck them. In the ass. With no Lube.

waist

[anonymous]

and sence when have i been afraid of anything. Im really sorry you are too dense to figure it out. I guess you "getting" me will not be on my top five.
-mean girl
and Kris he has

[anonymous]

waist waste wasted wastefull wasting squander fitter ravaged barren garbage rubbish excrement desolate arid empty.
THIS IS A WASTE OF A JOURNAL. I defy any of you to argue. Some of you live for this shit. And this one just sits here. Being ignored unloved, unwriten. Nothing to say nothing new. No intrest to any one but me. I am Obsessing over this shit. Why does the owner of this "Live" journal write. does he have nothing to say is he that boring. Is he trying to kill, murder if you will, this "Dead" journal. Well he has succeeded. It is dead, barren a wasteland of nothingness and non-thought. No intlect here. Dont worry moms your kids wont be effected buy thougth and ideas with this journal. This journal is approved by the Surgeon General. No nast warning lables brought to you by Tipper. Safe for your non thinking riddelen guzzling children. Fat and sad that is what this is fat and sad. No thought here. WASTE

[anonymous]

OK I have to remember not to ramble on like that. When I do I can spell or type. I just reread what I wrote, English teachers beware. The grammar police are coming to get me. Its all over they are revoking my diploma. Ahh mediocrity. Where are my Prozac and my big mac? I went to see Hank last night. Rollins for those of you who aren’t enlightened. He always brings out the voice in me. I really do believe that this journal is a waste. It’s unused. Maybe I'm just jealous. I want an Oompa Loompa tooooooooo. Who really knows what goes on in the mind of a mean girl. I don’t and I live here. I’m in love with a 42 year old short man with no neck.

[anonymous]

Alone. So alone. No one to talk to. No journal to write in except this dead one. Who ever comes to visit the dead. NOT you you bastards. Who is here for the dead journal? Just me. I will care for you lost little journal. I will try to nurse you back to health. Put a spark of interest and insight back into your sad little pages. I will hold your hand during this hard time and pour the blood from my veins upon your lips. With my life you will become whole again. With my thought you will thrive and grow. Blossom for me little journal of death, become a live journal.
-mean girl