Fuck Class.

I'm sitting in the school library right now, because period five was scrapped...fucking boring fucking shit. I want the birthday bonanza to come now!

Untitled.

That girl on the left, her name is Ella, and she's the love of my life.

To the "Les Mis" gentlemen: FML.

After hearing about how amazing the first show was, I really wanted to watch it. I'm kind of upset I didn't watch the show 1) because this would have been the first time I would have actually gotten to see my boys sing, like, really sing, and not just drown in the noise of our shitty choir. 2) Because I hear that the show is epic, and I like epic things. 3) Because I know you fuckers would support me, and I feel bad for not supporting you. Yeup, fail on my part. So since, I will be a no show, I demand a copy of the CD you guys recorded, and also a copy of the show on DVD!

This long weekend.

So the weekend is looking bright right now! Really, really fucking bright, both literally and symbolically. Today I got to spend time with my babygirl Ella, and it was a blast - every single moment of it. Then the day got even better because I got to see my boys Fred and Mike who always provide the good times, bogues, and good times, and good times at Mr. Green Jeans. (By the way Mike, those Camels are vicious, you should lay off those.) So then they dipped, and I was by myself downtown for a couple hours - loner I know - but damn it was beautiful outside! People were merry, the weather was wonderful, and the bogues were plenty - no complaints. Then I went to go pick up Ella from her dance practice and finished the day with her, as well as my boy Nathan, and his woman, Angela. In a nutshell: Ella + seing my peoples + smoking mad bogues + great weather + Mr. Green Jeans = a beautiful day.

Tomorrow is going to be a bittersweet day for me - I think (well hope) it will be more sweet than bitter, though. It's my mom's birthday (she would have been turning 53 tomorrow), and it sucks how we're going to celebrate it without her, and before you start going, "Well she's with you in spirit", let me tell you, yes I know, but it still fucking sucks. It will be a happy day though because I will have the ones who matter to me the most by my side to celebrate this occassion; my mom would appreciate that. In a nutshell: My mother's birthday + my loved ones x a shitload of crying = a day I will always remember.

Sunday is going to be ill because I plan to get some major sleepage [sic] ( [sic] means that I realize that "sleepage" is not a word), and that is all I have to say about that, lol. In a nutshell: sleeping = just as good as sex.
Forget that...no sleep was had today.

R&B Currently Sucks.

What has happened to R&B? Honestly, R&B artists today suck, they fucking suck, and it's because all they can really do is open their mouths and follow a few melodies. R&B artists of the past were musicians, and they understood music. Chris Brown is the epitome of garbage R&B. Anyone with a half decent ear for music would realize that. 'Though I must give kudos to Ne-yo, Raphael Saadiq, and Robin Thicke, for bringing back musicianship into R&B.

P.S. D'Angelo, fuck you! You were going to be the fucking saviour of R&B, but you were a cunt who loved drugs, fuck. Anyways, check out this clip of D'Angelo, when he was still a stud: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MbGdc5Nx8Y&feature=related

My Love Affair with Rothman.

Ahhhh, cigarettes.

What would I be without you?

Healthier? Possibly.

More athletic? Possibly.

Sexier? Doubt it, I'm already a stud.

Just let me live my life, and if I die of cancer or some cigarette related disease, then I say unto you: IT WAS FUN WHILE IT LASTED, AND I HAVE NO REGRETS, FUCKER.

Fucking Pet Peeves.

So we all have pet peeves, no doubt, so what better place to vent out my annoyance than on a blog!

1. Clip-on bow-ties: First of all, I understand wearing a bow-tie is fashionable once again, but please, please, please, wear a real one! I hate clip-on bow-ties! Like, how is it fashionable for a young man to wear a clip on bow-tie? I don't know about you, but I stopped wearing clip-on ties after first communion. Bow-ties are supposed to be haute-couture, and clip-ons are def not haute couture. Oh, and F.YI. if you cannot define "haute couture", the you def DO NOT deserve to even put on a bow-tie.
2. People who sit on my pillows: I mean, this one is obvious guys - come on! I sleep on my pillows; they touch my face...and, your bumb was on like two or more TTC seats before you sat on my pillow, that's a lot of dirt on my pillow. 'nough said.
3. Shots: Walter taught me this, and now, I can't have it any other way. Anyways, I was having a couple drinks with some friends when I asked them to take shots with me. Now we all downed the shit in a spllit second - you know, flick it into your mouth, and you're done with. But this one guy was sipping on it...sipping on his shot. You don't sip on it fucker. Can't deal with that.
4. Sneaker Heads: I love runners, but when you're 30 and in need of rent money, you'll regret having that extensive collection. Besides, what the hell is Nike compared to Salvatore Ferragamo. (If you don't know who he is, then you can't say you love shoes, I'm sorry)
5. MSN slang: I understand that when messaging, texting, etc. it is convenient to abbreviate words - it saves time. But is it really necessary to type "dat" instead of "that"? Or "luk" instead of "look"? Honestly, that's just dumb.

My dearest Ella.

So I've been going out with this girl named Ella for a little while now, and I can honestly say that I am the happiest I have ever been since last year. My mother passed away last year, and since then things have been "meh"; not that I'm the depressed sort of fellow, it's just, the sky was always overcast - so to speak - and Ella brought back the sunshine...yeah that's how amazing she is! But being the stupid man that I am, as all of my boys know, I did an idiotic thing by not being completely honest with her. Although, things are settled now, and she's been so kind as give me another chance, I still feel so shitty - I suppose that's my conscience kicking in, punishing me for hurting someone I love so much; it's funny because my conscience never bothered me before I met Ella. Sometimes I don't want to say how I feel, because after all, they are just words, and I have to prove myself to her through my actions...but I hope she does know, that the way I feel is sincere, and that, although these are just words, I do promise to take care of her, and I do promise to never hurt her again, and I do promise to love her with as much love as the soul can give. You readers may think I'm naive, but fuck you; I'm being sincere, and I'll bleed a terrible Shakespearian death if I have to prove it. This right here marks a new chapter in my life; no more games, and no more fucking around with girls. And I have Ella to thank for this...so thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, and lastly, thank you. Ella, if or when you read this, I want you to know that I love you, and trust me, I'm not using it lightly.

And the school year needs to fucking end, now.

So the end of April is near, and all I can really say to that is good riddance! Aside from the fact that it is my 1 month anniversary with Ella on the 28th of this month, (that may not be long to you, but in Vince time, that's a big accomplishment) I am not looking forward to anything else; I just want the school year to end; I want to fucking graduate; I want to be in university already - now when I mention that I want to go to university, it's mostly because there's hope of me getting my own place, so I guess the want is more about moving out. If you think about it, ten months of school if fucking excruciating - granted there are weekends, and PA days, and some random lucky days off - especially at the choir school (I go to St. Michael's Choir School). Going to the choir school basically means that you only have 1 day weekends, at best. Going to the choir school means that every fucking holiday will not be spent relaxing because you are guaranteed to sing at a mass of some sort (take in Holy Week, that was like a week of masses until 9; until 12 if you were unlucky). Going to the choir school means that when all your friends ask you to hang out with them, your reply is a sad, "I can't, I have rehearsal". What I'm getting at is: going to school is like bumb fucked, therefore, going to the choir school is like getting bumb fucked, and receiving HIV/AIDS too. I'm sure I'll miss high school once I'm gone, but I def won't miss this tedious routine (that's an oxymoron isn't it? Fuck who cares).

'Though this post has been quite bitter, there are things I look forward to which keep my spirit strong:

• The fact that school is almost over.
• The fact that after grad, we're tearing down the lockers.
• The fact that we're going to jack all the toilet paper, light that shit on fire, and toss it out the windows.
• The fact that I'm moving out soon!
• And last - but certainly not the least - the fact that I will be spending more time with my girl Ella.

VSV