Lana Misses You Terribly

All day I was trying to cram for my psych exam -who gives an exam the day we come back from spring break?!- and the only things intoxicating my stressed addle brain was my good friend, the velvet bullet. We've been chillin' for four months and counting. I even started to get that rosy "after sexy time glow" which was weird since I was in class surrounded by 26 other students reading about cardiac arrest. I felt their stares on me and was quickly engulfed with shame. Well... not really.

Obviously I didn't do to well on the exam since I had no focus (or clue), but one can only hope.

After a long day of fantasizing I finally made it home. I changed into some comfy come hither clothing and Bollywood music (don't ask why), thought of you know who and got it on. Well I got it on for five glorious minutes until it STOPPED!

I changed the batteries and nothing. It died in the midst of action and I almost started to tear.

It's as if the world doesn't want me to be happy anymore. Still I am left with these thoughts that long for fulfillment. It always has to be me.

: (

My Ass is Tighter than Versace

Jay-Z, I was looking forward to seeing you in concert tonight to prove to you that I know the words to your shit. I wanted to be that model in the mosh pit who was dancing off beat. God damn, I'm sad because I wanted to see what ghetto and high fashion look like when they meet. I guess listening/watching you will have to suffice until the very next time. Fail.

I have a billion things I wish to write about, but how do I make it this entry consistent. I guess I don't.

Today, like any normal day (or so I thought): I showered, was told to hit the gym by my mother, headed to school (without hitting the gym), learned nothing in French, read some books inside Barnes and Nobles, and headed to work after eating some Pop-Eyes.

And than at work I saw Mr. 205. He came in and left, and it didn't hit me until he left that I looked horrible today. I was rockin' the side ponytail, pale skin, and oversized sweater with tights look. Point blank, I looked like I just got out of bed, because today wasn't like all the normal days since I didn't have my daily viewing of Rachel Zoe. So from now on, besides hitting up the tanning salon, I will never leave my house without watching Rachel Zoe. Be prepared for anything.

Oh god, that previous passage sucked ass! I want to delete it, but I won't. I was reading this article in Details, it was about big penises and what it means to guys. I didn't know guys cared that much about their measure, until I read that. Apparently how big their ego is equivalent to their dick size. Guys can lose their jobs, shelter, girlfriends, but as long as they have their girth they are good to go. That can explain some things. But what about if they just suck ass? Now do they just find girls that are willing to put up with their weak performance because they are big? I for one will not stand for that. I say performance matters way more than penis size will. Besides guys with bigger dicks tend to act like bigger dicks. If you don't agree I will gladly prove you wrong, any second of the day.

I guess that's why these were invented... cause people suck anyway.