Poon Job's Palace

It has finally happened. My piece of shit lap top that I had lugged around for the last 2 years has finally died on me.
Now my plans of giving up on real life and living on the internet are smashed...for the time being at least.
I still have access to the internet, but I am unable to achieve the CJ-esque levels I had dreamed of.
Now I am left to decide if I should purchase a new computer, or fork over the 400 dollars to fix my decrepit piece of shit. The only attachment I have left to it is the 10 gigs of music and 20 some odd gigs of porn which I hadn't backed up.
Now I am left to rely on the 80 gigs of porn on my external drive. It seems quite stale.

Thats right bitches...I said it. I'd put this post in green font, but I don't care to make the effort. Since recovering from my sickness a while back I was out of the game. And by game I am referring to binge drinking my liver away. So as of late I have returned to the big leagues and am finding myself rejuvinated.
No amount of liquor has been enough for Kav version 2, and it is this fact that has led me to being much more critical of my drinking endeavors.
As I said a few weeks ago I already celebrated St. Patrick's Day and I must say that I had a fan-fucking-tastic time. The Carbombs flowed freely as did the urine from my numerous episodes of public urination.
I had built up St. Patrick's Day ever since then. I mean the real day had to be better than the preliminary. Wrong!!
Don't get shit twisted. I drank excessively...from noon on, but something seemed off. It seemed more forced than it should have been. From leaving my desk on break I rushed myself to the bar and started throwing some shots back, only to return to my desk cause my partners in drunken debauchery were, to sum it up in one word, pussies.
Anyways...after heading back to my place for all of 20 minutes I got a call and I was off to another pub.
3 hours passed by and they seemed to take forever...the place was dead, and this only added to my frustration. I pretty much only enjoyed myself in the last hour I was there. This is probably thanks to me picking up the pace.
So anyways...I left the pub early as I had a lot of shit to do on Friday and I intend on being out again at night. At this point in time consecutive nights of alcohol toxicity is quite a stretch...my stamina is not what it used to be. One big Mcfucking disappointment.

Additionally: I don't need an Irish holdiay as an excuse to drink...and if you do need this as a reason I must say Fuck you and eat a dick.

My inner urges to live the life of a bum has surfaced recently on a few occasions. One incident that I can recall (which means recently as I have pissed away or supressed any long term memories) took place last Friday.
After a night of partying (which was supposed to be an early night) I ended up realizing that I didn't have the key to my place at 4:45 in the morning. Sadly security wasn't at their post and my roommates had long since passed out so I was left to aimlessly wander the apartment complex.
The place I stay has a clubhouse that opens at 5:30 in the morning...and that is exactly where I wound up. At this point in time I had reached my second wind and decided that it would be a good thing to go to the gym. It seemed like a good idea at the time...apparently the fitness buffs who actually work out at 5:30 in the morning didn't agree with me.
They were sitting there in their spandex leotards and jump suits, while I was working out in the same clothes I wore the night before. After a rigorous 10 minutes I decided that I was bored and went to the main room to watch T.V.
It was at this point that I passed out. Finally 8 o'clock hit and I decided to check the security post again so I could get in...yet to my dismay the guard was not there. Seeing as I could wait no longer and my true dickhead nature was waiting to come out I decided to wake up my roommate and tell em to open the fucking door.
Luckily they answered on my first attempt and I had finally reached a bed. I had shit to do at 2 in the afternoon so I was forced to go out and function to some diminished capacity. After that was done i proceeded to take a nap in yet another public place. Then I woke up, ate and slept yet again.
I feel this experience taught me how the other side lives. I didn't get to experience drinking my own urine or jerking off random dudes in a subway for quarters...but I think I already know what that would be like.

I'm opening myself up for insults from the likes of Alex & Joe with this one. Thats right...that was a double shout out yo!!!
Anyways, I consider myself to be a Star Wars whore...if it were possible I would go down on a Wookie. I've gone to see the 2 previous prequels in theaters, going to the midnight shows nonetheless. As much as I hate to admit it, I didn't think they were all that great. Needless to say that didn't stop me from purchasing them both on DVD.
To clarify, I am not one of those dudes who comes to the dressed in full jedi gear; not that there is anything wrong with that but my mom doesn't have a basement and if she did, she sure as hell wouldn't let me live there.
Furthermore I am not one of those fanboys who waits in lines days or weeks in advance to purchase my tickets...thankfully I am a firm believer in advance ticket purchasing and using friends to stake positions in line for me.
Anyways...back to my point. It recently came to my attention that the new Star Wars Episode 3 trailer will be airing today on Fox. The short clip I saw got me pretty stoked. The only downfall is that it will be airing during The O.C.
I have made it a point to avoid all things to do with this show as I am no longer 15 years old and am lacking a vagina. This is my dilemma. Do I suck it up and deal with the shitfest that is The O.C. just to watch what will probably end up being 1 minute of the best parts of a movie that will probably blow major ass?
Or do I do what any normal hetero-male would do and skip the whole fiasco, and download the extended trailer off the net?
These are both questions that I have the answer for, yet for some reason I ask it. If only my inner nerd wasn't such a whiny bitch.

Last night I ended up celebrating St. Patrick's Day with town of Champaign and an assload of U of I students. It took a few hours of drinking before it was brought to my attention that St. Patrick's Day isn't for a few weeks. I was not deterred as the green beer flowed like a fine boxed wine. I am happy that I have ample time to prepare for the festivities in Chicago.
First thing I gotta do is buy a green shirt, cause I was the only one out last nite who didn't have one and I would ever so much love to fit in. Secondly I need to arrange transportation, cause in my drunken stupor I found it quite hard to hail a taxi at 2 in the morning. Thirdly I need to make sure I only take cash and not run a tab, cause thats when things get out of control. And fourthly I need to add an additional sentence so that I may say fourthly.

I have realized that I have lost all grasp of time. Maybe its the fact that I am burnt out constantly, but I am starting to believe that every fucking day is Wednesday.

I had a friend who suffered from this same ailment and I guess its contagious. There has been multiple occasions when people have asked me what the date was...needless to say I was oblivious to this...then they asked me if I knew what the day was. When I'd reply Wednesday, they'd say I was wrong and tell me what the real day was.
Why would they ask me what day it was if they knew this fact themselves? I concluded that people who ask you questions that they know the answer to are dickheads and cunt-ass bitches.
Thankfully I have retained my awareness of the Friday-Sunday range, as I usually have plans (unlike some people who are online 22 hours of the day*).

And for the record I am well aware that today is Thrusday...thanks to looking at the calender on my cell phone; plus I already assumed it was Wednesday this morning and was corrected.

*Obligatory CJ shout out. Congratulations for receiving your first shout out Carolyn J.