Dear Whoever Finds This Blog (part 4),

Where to begin, where to begin.

Hm.

Well, I haven't updated in a while, and I would like for this update to be bangin', so let's just see how it goes.

Sooooooo....

I got texting back last week. The no texting thing was getting crazy, and nobody called me like I thought they would. I also didn't make an effort to call anybody, so it evens out.

I called Greg the other night to get my facebook and myspace passwords back, because I was bored, and he won't give me them. So I guess I'll have to stick with that.

So, remember my post about the song I wrote for that girl?

You think I'd learn my lesson to never write one for a girl again, right?

Wrong.

The only difference this time, this girl asked for a song.

But mid-writing, I kinda started liking her. And the lyrics aren't like too overbearing, but I guess you could say *cute*. The music for the song, however, is banging. One of the favorite music piece I wrote. If you like post-punk songs in 6/8, then this song is for you.

But, instead of actually performing in front of her, I started to record it. The music track is down, and hopefully I'll have vocals done, and everything mixed by this time next week.

I think I'm investing too much time and energy into this song, because I think, no, I know, that shit's gonna blow up in my face. Again.

But the friends that do know about this song think that I will get some ass from it. Their logic is because they say the girl is a hoodrat, which I don't want, but this girl is really nice, and she's a good person on the inside, and that's all that matters.

I don't want to, but I'm gonna prove them wrong.

Oh, I got a hair cut yesterday. I no longer have the swoopy bang that flips above my left eye.

It no longer does that flippy thing like that guy in that band does sometimes.

This style is now a faux hawk. I found a picture of Ewan McGregor (sighhhhh (no homo))

sporting a short, but well cut, faux hawk, and I instantly went "I want that."

So I gots one, and it's not in the style of my one friends Jew-FroHawk. It's just a little bit better. Just a little bit.

I got this cut at a place called Great Clips. I usually visit my hairstylist (no homo, again) Perry, who works at Panache in Northfield. He's a good dude, likes Morrissey, so its a win win. He's the only guy I can trust with my hair, so when he was all booked up the other day, I had no other option. I was very wary of going there, but the lady did a good job. But after the cut, I go home, and on the tv is a Great CLips commercial, the likes of which I've never seen. It's a bunch of people around a Louisiana BBQ, all sportin' fresh cuts. Honestly, the food looked better than the hair.

And one last thing. Soon, I will be better than Billy Talarico in Call of Duty. And when it happens, shit is gonna get real.

That's all I have to say.

Love,

Max.

Dear Whoever Finds This Blog (Wacky St. Patty's Day Edition!),

Ayyyyyyyyy. A full 12 days have passed since I posted anything up on hurrr.

So I thought maybe, just maybe, I should update you all on my shenanigans.

I'm good. How are you?

I miss texting. And Facebook. And Myspace. 

I'm kind of regretting my Lenten promise. 

26 Days left though. I can do it.

So what's new with me?

Not much, actually. I'm still job hunting, and I'm about to lose my car.

Nobody is hiring. At all.

Oh, and the other night, I drank too much. I would like to blame Jackie, but it's my own damn fault.

I realize I don't have much to say right now, so...

deuces.

Love,

Max.

Dear Pope Benedict XVI,

I beat you to it!

You recently warned the young people of the church not to substitute "virtual friendship"

for real human relationships. 

It may isolate individuals from real social interaction while also disrupting the patterns of rest, silence and reflection that are necessary for healthy human development. 

Teh Chrch sez stop txtn 4 Lent.

The campaign for no texting during let began yesterday at the Modena, Bari, and Pesaro dioceses in Italy, and has spread to other Italian branches.

My campaign for no texting began about two months ago.

Max 1 - Vatican 0

Take that.

Love,

Max.

Dear Karma,

You're a real bitch sometimes.

And I'm sorry for saying that. Don't hurt me, again.

But you really have to chill with your shenanigans.

Like that time it was raining out.

My family and I were sitting down to dinner,

and I had to leave for my child psychology class right after the meal.

Well, that day, my sister and I got into an argument because she likes to never

listen to what I have to say. The argument ended with me shouting "Fuck you!"

to her. I did apologize, but it didn't help matters. Anyway, back to dinner.

The argument continued, and my mom had my back at least 90%.

I guess the FU will make me lose 10 points.

My sister gets yelled at by my mom, and I start laughing, because me being immature,

I find it funny.

My sister gets up from the table, and slams the door behind her into her room.

I guess she went to cry, but I'm not positive.

So I get up to go to school. It's pouring out.

I walk down my steps, trying to avoid the rain.

I get into my front yard, and slip.

I'm covered in mud. My book, homework, clothes. Everything.

I walk back inside, and there's my sister.

She sees my situation, and gets the biggest smirk on her face.

I end up being late for class.

Or, how about this last friday.

Back Seat Riot has a show at the Linwood Firehall (which went surprisingly well).

After the band checks in, Greg, Dave, and I decide to go to Wawa. Dave drives.

We get our food, and we chill in Dave's car to eat our food for about 10 minutes.

As we're leaving the parking lot, we see one of the bands, Isn't It Always, and their car/trailer broke down on the side of rt.9. 

Greg asks "Should we help them out?"

I say "No! Let's get the fuck out of here!"

And Dave hightails it out of there.

So, we play, the show goes well, and it's time to leave.

I follow Dave's car to shore road.

He goes to turn, and I follow suit.

Mid-turn, my car shuts off.

I try my best to get to the side of the road, put on my emergency blinkers.

I try to start the car. It sputters and doesn't kick over. The electric is working, however.

I call Greg, and the guys turn around to come meet up with me. I call my mom, she calls my dad, we push the car, long story short, my car is left in front of a house in Linwood.

My parents think my car is out of gas. We go to fill it, no dice.

I just had it towed to the shop yesterday, because two days ago, we got buried with a foot of snow.

This is the third time my car has had something wrong with it since I got it in July.

The first time it broke down, to get it fixed was over $200.

Then, my heat broke. It has been the coldest winter, and I have no working heat. 

To get the heat fixed would cost $850.

So, I'm guessing this time, to fix it, will most likely be over $1,000.

It's "Carma". How about them puns?

Anyway, Karma, I guess I should learn my lesson sooner or later.

Love,

Max.