Meeting Gerard Way...Again.

I was going to write a huge epic blog about my entire day in Hollywood in this, but I feel it is completely irrelevant at this point.

In a nutshell, I drove myself and four others (Camille, Lea, Emily and Easter) to Hollywood at eight in the morning. We waited in line for an hour in the half for the passes we would then need to meet Gerard Way later that evening (ten HOURS later...Lord).

Hollywood is a strange place. The people are strange, the places are strange...it's just strange. But in a way that I like. I got to see Grahman's Chinese Theatre, the main gathering place of fifty different character actors (I saw at least three Batmans).

But, since this is about Gerard, I will say that he is a laid-back and down-to-earth individual, who really does want to please his fans. Our conversation:

Gerard: Hi. What's your name?
Gabby: Gabby.
*signs comic. Sees my drawing of the White Violin...*
Gerard: Did you do that?
Gabby: Yeah, you like it?
Gerard: It's awesome, really good.
Gabby: Thanks...but I think she needs a Gerard Way tattoo on her leg.
Gerard: *blushes* Is that what you want?
Gabby: Yeah. I think it would really complement her.

I made Gerard Way laugh and blush.

Epic.

I Give Myself Too Much Credit...

I seem to have this ongoing idea in my head that I am capable of responsibilities that could very well get me:
a) arrested.
b) hospitalized.
c) kidnapped.
d) blamed.
e) all of the above.

I've considered a-d and have decided that e is the most appropriate answer when I think about driving to Los Angeles tomorrow. For some stupid fucking reason, I thought it would be a grand idea to stuff five people in my tiny 2000 Toyota Echo (two of them being eleven year-olds) and drive an hour and a half to Hollywood at 8:00 in the AM in order to purchase something at a comic shop I've never been to so that we can get tickets to meet Gerard Way ten hours later at 8:00 in the evening, all the while driving through Hollywood trying to find something to do, even though I've never been to that part of Hollywood before and I hate people there as it is.

>_>

Suicide has crossed my mind twice, but in all honesty, I'm not selfish enough to kill myself, not to mention that I don't have the patience to figure out some immaculate and grand way to end my existence.

For Dalai Lama's sake, why would I ever want to drive to Los Angeles early in the morning? Why would I want to take responsibility for two eleven year-olds, one of them increasingly annoying? Why would I want to be forced to worry about my piece of shit car breaking down, even when I already know that it can't hold that many people in the first place? I'll tell you:

I give myself way too much credit. I somehow think that I'm some sort of amazing person that can make this kind of shit happen and work flawlessly, that I can just plan something and expect everything to work in my favor.

In truth I'd rather sit back and let someone else take the reins on wacko trips like this. What surprises me more is the shit hasn't hit the fan quite yet. But tomorrow could end my lucky streak.

Just do me a favor and pray for me, think positive thoughts for me or at least pity me. Somehow, it will help. The only reason I'm going through with it this late in the game is the fact that there's four people counting on me.

*Writes "martyr" on forehead*

I would say that it's worth meeting Gerard Way, but I've gotten to the point in my life where no one is truly worth meeting for all this trouble unless it's Jesus Christ himself. Sorry Gerard, it's not that I don't think you're awesome, it's just that anxiety is the cheese to my macaroni.

Thank you Juno.

To Begin With...

Does anyone have a clue if Left 4 Dead is worth my money? Because that's a month of car insurance and three days of lunch I give up if I buy this game, so if someone could just get me in on the DL, I'd be more than happy to take you out to dinner.

Ahem.

So, I'm new on here. I suppose I shall give a brief introduction, as this is a blog, and I feel I should be as narcissistic as possible.

So this blog is a general bitchfest along with whatever else happens to find its way into my brain including, but not limited to: stupid people, sexual relations ("hypothetical" of course), puppies, horribly melodramatic poetry, food and shitty drivers.

I'm a college student in Orange County, California. No, I do not like the ocean, I don't surf, and I don't live in Laguna Beach or Coto de Caza and I fucking hate The Real Housewives of Orange County. Them bitches is WACK. (/blackperson) My life is quite simple at the moment, so I'll probably be posting on here a LOT. College students have no life, whether they want to admit it or not. I have fabulous friends, a wonderfully strange boyfriend, a rather dysfunctional family (LOLZ) and a crazy crack puppy who seems to have an affinity with my pink underwear (he's a pervert). Hopefully I'm interesting enough for people to actually read these, otherwise, I'll just go kill myself.



But I must leave now, as I have developed a sinus headache from the cold rainy weather here.

Hot chocolate sounds amazing.

Cheers.