Dedicated to the members of The Academy Is . . .

Because they posted a phone number for their fans to call today. They are so fucking awesome. Love them!

Side Effects of Absolute Boredom

Some people spend their time doing useful, productive things, like searching for the cure to cancer. Me, I’ve never been big on that whole being useful thing. I prefer to spend my free time downloading music and lurking on social network websites like Myspace and Livejournal. Pretty pathetic but hey, that’s just the role I play in the scheme of things.

So, I was sitting on Livejournal, going through posts on my Friends page, when I stumbled across a new post on one of my absolute favorite communities. It exclaimed that my favorite band of all time had posted a phone number to which fans could call and basically talk to the band. I immediately dialed the number and wasn’t surprised to find that the voicemail box was already full. Like, of course it would be.

But it just got me thinking about things. Well, not to say that I’m not always thinking about stuff, but this time I was just like, wow, what would it be like to actually talk to the band? Get to know them? Get them to like me?

I don’t know what it is about me, but I’m always daydreaming and stuff. It’s a bad habit, I guess, but one that I just don’t have the heart to break. Like, if I didn’t daydream, then I’d have to live in reality, which is a pretty shitty place. At school, I’m always off thinking about something or another. Like, was my oddity an inherited or acquired trait, or why the hell do I wear high heels without those sole things?

So, I was thinking and stuff, not about anything in particular, or anything interesting either, when I decided I was going to call that number again. I didn’t get through, and the voicemail was still full. I tossed around the idea of sending a text, but I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say, besides the fact that I would fuck all of them, and I would do it sober, too, but I don’t think that’s the type of thing that they would’ve appreciated. They probably would’ve thought I was a whore or something, and not only that, but a whore who only fucks people when she’s drunk, which is true, I must admit, but I don’t want them to think that about me. So, I just went back to thinking and saved the number in my phone.

I was still pretty bored. And I didn’t really know what to do to keep myself entertained. So, I picked up my copy of The Catcher In The Rye and started reading. Like, I just pick up the book from random parts and read for a few minutes. I pretty much know the book by heart, which makes me sound pretty pathetic, but whatever.

Eventually, that started boring me to tears, too, so I called the number again. Still full. I suddenly wanted to cry, despite how emo that sounds, so I decided to send them a text message anyway.

Um . . . I don’t know what to say. I luv all of you.

XOXO

Vix

But I didn’t send it. Because I was suddenly feeling as if sending that text message made me a stalker, and no matter how weird I was, I wasn’t someone who needed to be locked up someplace on account of stalking. That’s pretty fucking pathetic, yo.

I will never say that again, I swear.

So, I decided to just call them again. I didn’t care if I was calling long distance. Not my money.