Brenleylaurie's Blog

it's been a while, buzznet. c'mon now.

haley, i got brain damage from the hi roller. i swear i still have a headache from it, it's been intermittent & underlying ever since. it hurts. i should have gone to the doctor...

patrick's on law & order?!

don vito got arrested?!

oh, what the world has come to...

i'm falling for the guy that is my ashley's boyfriend...

help me.

so call us freaks, but that's just the way we roll.

this weekend was the best. you should be able to tell from my new pictures & video. i'd do it all again in a heartbeat. i'm so sore from walking and being shaken around...plus a thrashing headache from the hi roller to top that off, but who's complaining? i had too much fun to comprehend.

you've got moves, i've got shoes, let's go dancing.

i miss my beffy.

I'VE BEEN INFECTED WITH JONASITIS!

i'm decreasing in age, mentally, i believe. i swear i am a 12 year old. i'm racking my brain pondering whether i should risk my life, for the will-have-been third time, to see jonas brothers with hannah montana in november, which leaves me no time to panic[!] due to the rapid lowering in the number of days to get everything planned out for sleeping with giants and young wild things. there's a show next friday... i'm freaking out because i don't have a ticket, and am not promised a sure trip. last minute things are always better when they're super last minute. not when there's a week of stress & anxiety ahead. i freak out too much. william beckett, please save me & your wife a seat next friday. please?!

oh & btw, i love joe jonas. jtlyk. 

bren, out.

i have become cumbersome to this world.

for a minute yesterday, i died. actually, it was more like... 12 hours. should do that more often.

i'm sure i will edit this post soon. look out. i've nothing of importance to say as of now, but later i'm sure i will. just wait.

my family is more dysfunctional than anyone could imagine. i am almost sick of everyone who shares my blood. my brother, my mother, and my father are the only three that i wouldn't consider grounds for murder. except when things go wrong, they're the three i blame most. i stay away. lock myself in, and worry. all is hell on the outside, but inside here... it's fine. but dig deeper and you'll find a heart worthy of a shaking pulse, a few intravenous fluids, and quite possibly an early grave. someone take me. i'm ready to get out.

i don't know if this makes sense, but i talked to audrey kitching today. if i send her 25$, she's sending me a shit that says i hate audrey kitching. but i really do think i hate her. on the front of it, there's a skull & her name, but it says 'i hate audrey kitching!' on the back, so i'd just have to wear it backwards all the time. yes, i just realized i made a typo when i said "she's sending me a shit." i dunno. she's been to the disco, but she said it wasn't the shit. i have no respect for her, personally.

office space: complete.

i'm off to the depths of laughter. au revoir, mes comrades!

fuck having a routine for posting journals, i'm stupid.

tsixe t'now evol neht dna evol fo tuo niap eht ekat.

she throws the marbles.

that's a wrap.

i love it a billiams.

today was a good day.

77% done with my illegal download of office space. it's taken about 65 hours.

i love zebras.

okay. that's enough throwing shit for an hour. i'm out.

--bren.

sick. the worst.

thank you, god.

there will be an answer.

let it be.

bren, out.

"put love on hold, young hollywood is on the other line."

fall out boy...

...makes me smile.

this is off. i apologize.

panic! at the disco have to release the new album on february 25th, 2008.

please?!

my best friend is the love child of william beckett & ryan ross.

shoobedoowop,

--bren.

the DA's dressed to the nines and in the mirror he practices all his lines to his closing arguement, 12 hearts beat in favor. i'm guessing that he read the morning paper. the headline reads "the man hangs." but the jury doesn't... and everyone's looking for relief, United States vs. disbelief. mothers cast tears on both sides of the aisle. clear your throat and face the wall. the verdict falls like bachelors for bad luck girls. only breathing with the aid of denial. case open, case shut. but you could pay to close it like a casket. baby boy can't lift his headached head. isn't it tragic? woah, oh. he glances at his peers sitting 7 to 12 stacked on 1 to 6, the gallery is hushed. boys in three pieces dream of grandstanding and bravado. the city sleeps in a cell, notwithstanding what we all know. hang on a rope or paint it black, whichever you prefer. everyone's looking for relief, a bidding war for an old flame's greif. the cause, the kid, the course, the charm and the curse. not a word that could make you comprehend. too well dressed for the witness stand. the press pays for whichever headline's worse. case open, case shut. but you could pay to close it like a casket. baby boy can't lift his headached  head. isn't it tragic? woah, oh. fresh pressed suit and tie, unimpressed birds sing and die. can talk my way out of anything. the foreman reads the verdict, "in the above entitled actions, we find the defendant... guilty, guilty guilty, guilty." case open, case shut. but you could pay to close it like  a casket. baby boy can't lift his headached head. isn't it tragic? woah, oh.

bored. you're crashing, but you're no wave obviously stuck in my head.

also obviously nothing better to do than to type out the entire song. trust me, it helps.

i love.