OMFG I’m updating this from the apple store at the oakridge mall.
WTF did YOU accomplish today?
That’s right, nothing.
Go cry about it.
MW
Alrighty, usuaully this blog doesn’t get updated over weekends or uh, on vacations, but it IS christmas eve, so I figured I’d bring you guys something new.
Um, well tomorrow, it will have officially been a year since I saw my GrandMother alive. I don’t know exactly how to feel, so I’m just gonna write. Uh, I found out the other day that the girl I love prays for me every night.
Yeah.
What a weird thing to admit to someone. “I pray for you every night, to find the strength you need to get through all the hard stuff in your life” and some other nice things were thrown into that e-mail. And then I found out a girl from youtube who I’m friends with thinks I’m hot and likes me enough to be my girlfriend, and so right now the end of the year seems to be shaping up for a wonderful next year.
Unforunatly, some things didn’t happen this year. What would make up for this sh*tty ass year would be, and yes, it would fix EVERYTHING. My grandmother dying, my cousin dying, EVERYTHING!
If the girl I really love told me she loved me and wanted to give me a freakin’ chance and be my girlfriend.
She doesn’t understand I’m not another one of those guys who just wants to get with girls to sleep with them, no, I’d rather hold her close, bury my face in her hair or neck, and whisper gently in her air, “I love you”.
But it looks like I’ll never get that chance.
Thank god Santa’s bringing presents. Maybe he’ll bring me a girl in a box.
Then I change my name to Lars and make a movie.
MW
I can’t remember alot of things from my
“infant” stages, like when I was in 2nd grade and stuff, I can hardly
remember ANYTHING from elementary school, and even middle school is a
tiny bit hazy, so I’m just gonna make my OWN memories.
I do remember
though, that when I was in elementary school, the president came to my
school (Bush) and all the kids and teachers pelted rocks at him, and
then there was the time in middle school where I hooked up with a chick
(Jenny) who ended up having a tail, which I should have noticed BEFORE
we got naked, but it was akward nonetheless.
And then just yesterday, I was standing in front of the bank when this guy started to rob me and so I kicked him in the nuts, and he pulled out like this huge gun, and started shooting everywhere, and then my car transformed into Opitmus Prime, and we battled him to the death, and once he was dead, I was beloved by all the hot chicks at the bank (yeah, ’cause hot chicks go to the fu*kin’ bank) and even the fat chicks. Fat chicks need love too. And THAT’S how I became a polygymist.
Wow.
Probably shouldn’t have dropped acid this morning. Bad idea. I’m
just kidding, I don’t do drugs and none of those things ever happened.
That’s creating memories, let’s see what I do remember.
I remember
being in Elementary School and getting my heart broken, and it’s never
healed which is why I havn’t had a good or real relationship since
then, and am kind of afraid of girls. I remember my grandparents being
murdered. My birth grandmother dying. I remember every pet I had dying.
I remember flipping over my bike handlebars. I remember being attacked
by bats.
I do remember stuff, but it’s never quite as interesting as the stuff I make BELIEVE I remember.
Basically the moral is, go out and lie.
MW
Well, yesterday would be more specific. But whatever. Anyways, I did read the LA news, of which I made one of the pages. I recently went to LA to speak to a man named Gregory Miner, one of the however many involved men, who murdered brutally and then robbed my grandparents, stole their car, brought it back, and set their house on fire.
I met a man named Dana Bartholomew. He approached me after the sentancing while I was the last one coming out of the courtroom, with a pad of paper and a pen, he asked me a few simple questions, such as “Last name? Father’s name?” Stuff like that, then he jotted down notes.
He approached my family later to do the same thing.
Then he wrote an article.
Read the first lines and be amazed:
FAMILY DELIVERS MESSAGES OF PAIN AND LOSS TO KILLER: BY DANA BARTHOLOMEW
At
first, Mark Wiland felt he had nothing to say to the man sentenced
Tuesday to life behind bars for murdering his grandparents.
Then he addressed Gregory Douglas Miner with one pain-filled message.
“I
missed out on a beautiful thing - a relationship between a grandson and
his grandparents,” said Wiland, 18, of San Jose. “It was a tragedy.”
Miner
expressed no emotion as Superior Court Judge Barry A. Taylor sentenced
him to two terms of life in prison without parole for the murders of
76-year-old William Lasky and his 73-year-old wife, Bertha.
The
32-year-old man was convicted last month of first-degree murder,
robbery and burglary with special circumstances for the West Hills
slayings.
The Laskys were killed inside their home during a
home-invasion robbery in 2001. The killers, after stealing their car,
returned later to set them and the house on fire.
Prosecutors and
police said it was one of the most brutal murders they’d ever seen. Two
more men allegedly linked with the deaths have not been charged.
During the trial, jurors had watched a 6 1/2-hour video of Miner confessing to more than a dozen versions of the crime.
But prior to his sentence, the once-convicted burglar declared he had nothing to do with the killings.
“I
can only imagine the pain and suffering in the last few years,” he said
to the victims’ family. “You may see justice served, but I beg to
differ: You are looking
at a truly innocent man.
“True closure is catching those in the streets who truly committed this crime. May God bless you all.”
Miner’s
parents described their son as a troubled man and compulsive liar who
was coming off drugs during his taped police confession.
They said
there was nothing during the monthlong trial - not blood, not DNA
evidence - that ever connected him to the Lasky murders.
“I feel
so sorry for them. My condolences go out to their family. It was the
most horrific crime,” said his stepfather, Fred Ward, 52, of Lancaster,
following the sentence at Van Nuys Courthouse.
“But my stepson didn’t do this. He didn’t have the hate in him to commit a crime of this nature.”
For the Laskys, nothing can ever replace the nurturing parents who had been wed for 53 years.
Nothing could replace Bill Lasky, a World War II veteran who loved nothing more than to cuddle his grandkids.
Nothing can ever replace Bertha, a Getty Center docent and dear friend of her family and to everyone else who knew her.
And nothing would ever again be normal for their three beloved children and numerous grandchildren.
“Your
actions changed the lives (of our family),” said daughter Beth Lasky of
West Hills to the impassive convicted killer. “I lost my best friend;
my mother was my best friend.
“I’m not able to talk to my father. My children lost their grandparents in an awful and violent way. That is not normal.”
Son
Scott said his parents were real, not some headline or story on TV.
They were more than victims of some horrible crime. They had taught
responsibility, they taught respect, and they taught love.
“Maybe
when they nail your cohorts, we shall finally be able to put this to
rest,” said Scott Lasky of San Jose during a lengthy address to Miner.
“In my mind, you are the lowest of the low. You are going to where you
belong.
“My only consolation is that my parents knew terror for only a few hours. May you know terror until the end of your days.”
I was touched by Dana’s article. And more touched by the fact that it opened with ME.
Now, I have to get back to crying.
MW
I’ve often heard little kids say, usually when I’m mugging them, that they want to grow up to be a firefighter, or a cop, or a stripper. Little kids say these sort of things all the time because they think it’s possible, well, give up kids, ’cause life only gets worse as you get older.
But I started thinking yesterday about baby cows, do infant cows think the same thing?
“When I grow up, I wanna be leather upholstery!”
“Oh yeah, well I’M gonna be a jacket!”
“Screw you guys! I’m gonna be workin’ for macdonalds! I have mad cow desiese, those are the ones they’re looking for!”
Sorry Mccy D’s.
Anyway, when I was a little boy, I wanted two things:
A. A Pink Princess Pony
B. To Be A Pirate
Being a pirate just seemed like a cool job, and the older you get, the more logical it seems. The older you get, into your teens, you DO start to loot, pillage and rape. The older you get you do go searching for “booty” and some of us even have to lose a leg and get a replacement. All seems logical to ME. I still wanna be a pirate.
I also still want my fu*king pink princess pony.
MW
Well let’s see.
What I said the other day was very rude about which year was worse, because they were both equal. Neither year was worse than the other. Just wanna make that clear. My step-grandparents (word?) dying was just as bad as my birth-grandmother (word?) dying. So I’m sorry if I offended anybody.
Anyway, I got to sit for 5 hours in my dad’s stinky car on the ride up there, and then on the way back 5 hours. 10 hours all together, just in case you can’t do math. Anyway, it’s now about 8:38 at my house, and guess what I get to do tomorrow. That’s right. Get up at 7:30 and got to school.
F-U-N.
Seriously. What is the deal, I’m 18, I could call myself in but my mom won’t let me unless I’m sick, but she also said I’m 18 so I can do whatever I want. MAKE UP YER FU*KING MIND! Whatever. So….what else. I guess that’s about it. Not much else happened, except tha fact that this guy today, Miner, actually tried to get out of this jail thing and make us all feel guilty by “convincing” us we had accused and sent an “innocent” man to trial.
Dude, if you were innocent, don’t you think, oh I don’t know….
YOU WOULDN’T BE IN JAIL?
Dumbass.
Alright, that’s all right now ma peeps, I’ll be back tomorrow morning to write about baby cows. Seriously. No joke there.
MW
I sit at a computer, typing this at my cousin’s house. She so kindly let me use their computer and I obviously took the option with gusto.
I head to LA after school today, I’m clean shaven and well dressed. Well, I’m shaven and dressed anyway. So, I also get to give a speech to the one guy they caught out of the three that killed my grandparents, the guy got life.
My friend Enaya asked me if I got permission from myself to say something to him, I’m assuming she meant physically and emotionally. I’ve never given myself permission for anything else before. It’s not like I ever had to sign a field trip permission slip or anything. So, thanks to Enaya (I love you), I am now going to give myself permission to say to everybody I know who are my friends, so be prepared.
Chris: You are a great guitar player, and pretty hysterical, however, actually I have nothing to criticize about you. You get off scott free pal, feel lucky.
Colton: You can get pretty nasty at sometimes, like the arguement we had that ended VC, but all in all, I feel like you have been a great friendship, and I hope to continue this friendship into late years. Also, your grandpa’s foot fetish freaks me the hell out.
Matt: You’re hilarious and always there for me when I need to talk about something. Actually, I don’t have anything bad to say about you either.
Aisha: Nothing wrong with you.
Aaron: Oh man, where to fu*kin’ start?! Well, let’s start with you abandoning me and running off to LA to live with a girl, when we already had plans. And then I don’t hear from your for months, thank god things are back to normal. My parents think you’re incapable of being quiet sometimes though. But I love ya man. Can’t wait to see you on 01-21.
Enaya: Nothing, you’re too nice sometimes, lol, but that’s okay. I see flaws in everybody, even you, but I’m not gonna take them down and ruin things between, our friendship. But you have changed my life in a profound way. I always get frightened when you go into the hospital, even though you don’t want me to, and I’m buying you something for christmas, even though you don’t want me to. And no matter what you say or do, I’ll always love you.
Alright, that’s about all of ‘em.
In other news, I had a poptart for breakfast.
Don’t know what that has to do with going to LA, but it was delicious, seriously, go eat a f*ckin’ poptart RIGHT NOW.
MW
So, went back to the doctors last night to get my canker sores check out, and this time they perscribed to me some pills. By, “perscribed”, I mean they made two nurses come in, one held my head back, and one held my mouth open while the doctor stuck a long hose down my throat and shoved pills into the hose and made me swallow them. Then they told me that I have to take them every day, 5 times a day, and these things are about the size of a cockaroach.
I can’t find the time to take pills 5 times a day, I can’t even find the time to masturbate that much in one day, let alone take medacine. Who’s got that kind of time? I got sh*t to do. Lots of sh*t to do. So let’s see what happens when I take them all at once, or only when I can. I have a theory of what will happen when I take them all at once.
There’s a story about a guy who got drunk, and woke up on a golf course the following morning. The interesting thing about this guy is that, and it’s a true story, is that he woke up on a golf course in a DIFFERENT STATE. I think THAT’S what’s gonna happen if I take them all at once. I’ll probably go nuts, feel drunk, and kick a puppy. And the puppy will probably die. Or I can take them only when I have the time and this thing won’t get better. Which one seems better? Or a better question…which one seems more FUN? That’s the whole point of certain things, people get drunk because they like it, I’d get drunk because it’d be fun.
‘Specially to wake up in a different state on a golf course, wake up, be hung over, do a few rounds, go home.
MW
My dearest, closest friend (to me anyway) went into the hospital two days ago, it’s also the girl I’m insanely in love with. I didn’t find out until yesterday when I noticed she hadn’t been replying to my e-mails and she hadn’t logged into “myspace” in 2 days straight. That wasn’t right. So I messaged my buddy Colton, and he told me she went into the hospital for pains in her stomach, which she had been talking to me about the past 2 weeks. She had caught a bad sick bug, and it was causing undue havic to her stomach. Poor gorgeous girl.
So I called her up yesterday, turns out she had been discharged yesterday at 4, but she really appreciated the call, and thanked me for it. Now, since I’m in love with this girl, and am a good person (to certain extents, sometimes extenuating circumstances come up), I figured I’d go the next step and do something nobody has ever done for her…
Buy her flowers.
Only problem is, she’s allergic to just about every damn thing on this planet, AND MARS. So I’m not sure what kind of flowers to get her, I don’t wanna bring her some get well flowers that put her RIGHT BACK INTO THE HOSPITAL. That’s never gonna get my “relationsh*t” anywhere. So I guess I’ll just buy some hypoallergenic flowers, that seems to be my safest bet. I’m gonna make sure they’re beautiful, but not prettier than her, which, purely seems impossible.
I feel like I owe something to her (and because I care) because she’s changed and impacted my life in such a profound way.
I Love You Enaya. Please get better soon.
MW
