How far does the arm of the Collective reach, anyway?

you know, I've been thinking about when I called the Collective a social underground.
We're not really underground. We're about as overground as it gets. I mean, come on, we're theatre people! We're the most flamboyant, out-there people on God's green earth. So we're not really underground. But then nothing is REALLY underground anymore. Not the crazy punk subculture of the eighties. no, no. that has risen to confront the light (wow, now THAT was cheesy). not even underground hardcore porn. you can get free access passes from so many sites, and not that many of them check your credit card for age verification...
you know on a slightly different track, I was also thinking today (since my last entry, a whopping 31 minutes ago) that the name of my blog sounds suspiciously like a homemade porno site. hmmm...Fun With Pinto...jealous yet, Geoff?
lol. too many people say that. and too many people say ppl. and u and ttyl. WE HAVE WORDS FOR A REASON!!!!! whatever. videogames are death anyway. unless you're original Nintendo. you know, I'm waiting for the day when somebody laughs at something I say, leans back, after their spasm of hilarity, sighs, "...lol."
I swear to God whoever does that to me will die a cold and ugly death. so there.
anyway, getting back to the title of this entry, I don't even know who's Collective, and who's not Collective, and who's Lower Collective. it's like a big, not-very-well-organized cult...hmmm. we can drink snok, and sacrifice blahs to our
theatre gods. sounds like a plan.
You know, I love making Brianna laugh. it makes you feel so funny. ha ha ha.
I know that was random.
anyway, p-tays fast approaching, hopefully. I dunno, though, cause I'd have to use my babysitting money to make two more parties, and I'm only getting twenty. Now I did do the other choir p-tay on twenty, but it was one p-tay, not two, and it was for a third of the entire guest list of either of these two coming up parties. I think I'd better just wait until I can sell one of the kids. or maybe I'll just turn them into part cars, and sell their kidneys and lungs to mad scientists. mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha. Apparently Amanda is having one soon. a bbq at her house for Mrs. Sinclair, pointless, as that might seem. I was supposed to help her organize that, as well. I suppose I can do that. Brad should be having a p-tay relatively soon, or so he has said. and then there's his b-day p-tay, and Laura's "Kevin has left the Building" p-tay, and the Copa cast party. (which is where my twenty bucks is going to. :) I love my vodka.)
no, Moddle boys, don't get up off your couch and away from your video games. God forbid. I'll just smack myself in the head. Whatever, you can laugh at me if I get hungover. That'll be punishment enough.
So you think this is ranting, and raving, I go on worse in my actual diary. This is just stuff I WANT people to know! Haha! Hmm, I'm in a boy-hunting mood. Well, put on your boy-chasing hat, and your dungarees, Cletis, we're ahavin' ourselves a man-hunt! (Quinn, you would be proud if you could hear the accent I just did in my head!)
You know what's sad? I give the boys grief about playing video games all the time, but me and my Mom and Sister are about twelve times worse when it comes to nerd-o web games. Seriously, we were actually arguing about who was the best at Bookworm today. We were comparing how many times each of us had gotten Senior Librarian as our rank when we finally died, and at what point value, and what words we'd gotten (Lupine and Tragedy, both with golden letters!)mom almost got clandestine, but a burning letter ate one of her letters.
anyways...*blush blush*
For some reason, I've got Chantal Kreviasuk stuck in my head. Her rendition of Leavin on a Jet Plane (yes I KNOW she didn't write it!!!) Cause I'm leeeeavin, on a jet plane, I don't know when I'll be back again, oh whoa whoa something else... truly pathetic.
I really REALLY should get to bed...but can't slow my mind down. I've tried TV!!! I've tried mindless webgames! I don't have any more books to read since I finished that Clive Cussler novel! and everyone else is asleep! that means I can't throw my ball against a wall until I feel sleepy! Well, that's a little inaccurate. I'm very sleepy. Complete with yawns, in fact. I just...am insomniac-ing right now. it's not that I don't wanna go to bed, or a I can't get to sleep once I'm there, it's that...I feel like I actually cannot get up, and go to bed. odd.
GGGAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!! going to bed now....
goodnight.
adios.
a beintot.
grr...
ok, I actually cannot do this. I actually want to go to bed, and yet I also cannot make myself get out of this freaking chair and go upstairs. and I dunno why!
you know what makes me crazy? stupid insert, that's what. you know how when you reach for the backspace to fux something, but you miss, and hit the insert, and you're not quite sure what you did, and there's no overt sign of anything wrong until you start typing in the middle of a phrase, adn all of a sudden the rest of your phrase has gone AWOL? you know that feeling? that massive sense of I am going to kill something, and dance in it's blood RIGHT NOW!!
or maybe I'm crazy...