Thursday, October 30, 2003
Astatic Reunion
As of now details are few and far between BUT things are looking up. On X-mas break of '03 Astatic (my band) will be having a reunion concert at funnybones. Rumor also has it that there will be a first EVER performance of my good friends' band, Neotaerik. Hopefully the boys will open up for us and blow your fucking pants off. Thats all for now. :-D
As of now details are few and far between BUT things are looking up. On X-mas break of '03 Astatic (my band) will be having a reunion concert at funnybones. Rumor also has it that there will be a first EVER performance of my good friends' band, Neotaerik. Hopefully the boys will open up for us and blow your fucking pants off. Thats all for now. :-D
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Oh our first victim of the day. I've come to realize the importance of the most heavenly substance on the face of the earth: deoderant. While talkin with a friend of mine at my kindly Staples store, an event in the past came up that I thought warranted a bit of "discussion". (We all know that no discussing actually goes on here, and that this is NO democracy. Message boards is where discussing should occur. On a side note I'd like to thank those who have been posting, it's making things a little more homely around here, keep it up guys.)
So the story begins almost a year ago, back in December of '02 at the PSU LAN/Coutnerstrike Tournament. This was the unveiling of my CS Clan [CM|- to the LAN tourney scene. Though this was our only "tourny" to date, we dominated so so bad at it. But anyway, if you dont know what a LAN is, its when a bunch of people meet with their computers, link together on a network, and game for hours (or days in this LAN party's case) on end. As you can imagine LAN parties attract all sorts of people. You have your hardcore network buffs, your casual gamers, your hardcore gamers, and just your bystanders who got somehow hosed into attending this "land party".
A usual breakdown of events is as follows:
A.) Hardcore network buffs show up early, ready the room for people to come, get the network up, and have their work rediculed by inferiors who plug into the wrong outlets, causing sever electrical damage and usually small flash fires.
B.) The casual gamers come in high spirits hoping to have a good time. Sometimes they end up just downloading things from other people's shared computers and they almost always end up hating the game they were looking forward to "kick ass" at, because they now realize how bad they are compared to the hardcore gamers.
C.) The bystanders I truely feel sorry for. They're like lost sheep in a field of coyote, waiting to be intellectually ravage by viscious words and belittling comments, which they're usually not even aware of. God bless these poor people, and may there souls find guidance to a land of acceptance and belonging.
D.) Ah yes, your hardcore gamers.... we can actually subdivide this category into miniscule sub-sections, but I'll keep it simple. For the most part your hardcore gamers consist of those dedicated to spending time to their game and practicing at it tirelessly. We pound down bottles of Bawls and Amped in efforts to keep our reflexes at a nervous-hyped high, thus allowing our severe 0wnzing of the general public to continue. There are a few people who piss me off about this category that made me right this article though... those poser, dirty, smelly douche bags that come to these parties and stink the place up both on the cyber and airspace.
It's these smelly people that I simply cant stand. They walk in the room and instantly you can smell, taste, and sadly feel their presence. It is as though something died inside them at birth and magically only through the fantastical drudgery of osmosis this horrible bouquet of ass-and-spice escapres and infects the air with its existence. For fucks sake, I wonder how they dont smell themselves? Maybe they dont smell at all. I'm sure that by the time they were able to conscious remember and register things, their nostral glandes were long deceased. It's even funnier how those who surround these people withold what they feel in order to be "friendly" to them. How is this being friendly? By allowing them to continue on and fumigate every place they may journey to, offending every person they cross paths with on the way? Even mac daddy JC and his 12 boys would have the common decency to walk up to one of these people and nicely shout in there ears "FOR CHRIST, MY OWN GOOD SELF'S SAKE, TAKE A SHOWER OR DISCOVER DEODERANT!"
But sometimes I wonder, is deoderant enough? I mean some of these people's problems are just.... they're simply mind-boggling. I'm talking to the point that they're stench condenses on their dual-monitor setup's surface, making a green puke-colored film on it. For the monitors I've come up with this nice little invention:
This bad motherfucker has it all. It answers any possible needs you may have if your having problems keeping your horrendous body odor undercontrol. First we'll start out with our custom-mounter ventillation system. This baby r0x0rs your smelly ass s0x0rs with dual Thomas industrial strength exhaust fans. These sluts will move air more than the area between Micheal Jackson and a little boys ass. Secondly I'd like to call your attention ot the pair of deluxe middleweight children's boxing gloves. Sitting next to someone who smells bad? If they were considerate enough to have purchased my Anti-co-smellular Monitor system, you can simply reach over to these bad boys and knock yourself out. Thats right, smoke yourself right in the face because the smelling won't stop, so you might as well take a break from consciousness. Who knows, maybe when you awake the person will have left. Finally direct your eyes towards the William B. Ruger Endowment Special NRA Edition Mark II Pistol, conveniently located at the top of the monitor. When things get bad... just kill youself man. Seriously, when you smell THAT bad it's the only way out. And of course this is all mounted on today's top of the line Sony Monitor. available to you for only one hundred easy payments of 19.95, payable in sexual favors.
So the story begins almost a year ago, back in December of '02 at the PSU LAN/Coutnerstrike Tournament. This was the unveiling of my CS Clan [CM|- to the LAN tourney scene. Though this was our only "tourny" to date, we dominated so so bad at it. But anyway, if you dont know what a LAN is, its when a bunch of people meet with their computers, link together on a network, and game for hours (or days in this LAN party's case) on end. As you can imagine LAN parties attract all sorts of people. You have your hardcore network buffs, your casual gamers, your hardcore gamers, and just your bystanders who got somehow hosed into attending this "land party".
A usual breakdown of events is as follows:
A.) Hardcore network buffs show up early, ready the room for people to come, get the network up, and have their work rediculed by inferiors who plug into the wrong outlets, causing sever electrical damage and usually small flash fires.
B.) The casual gamers come in high spirits hoping to have a good time. Sometimes they end up just downloading things from other people's shared computers and they almost always end up hating the game they were looking forward to "kick ass" at, because they now realize how bad they are compared to the hardcore gamers.
C.) The bystanders I truely feel sorry for. They're like lost sheep in a field of coyote, waiting to be intellectually ravage by viscious words and belittling comments, which they're usually not even aware of. God bless these poor people, and may there souls find guidance to a land of acceptance and belonging.
D.) Ah yes, your hardcore gamers.... we can actually subdivide this category into miniscule sub-sections, but I'll keep it simple. For the most part your hardcore gamers consist of those dedicated to spending time to their game and practicing at it tirelessly. We pound down bottles of Bawls and Amped in efforts to keep our reflexes at a nervous-hyped high, thus allowing our severe 0wnzing of the general public to continue. There are a few people who piss me off about this category that made me right this article though... those poser, dirty, smelly douche bags that come to these parties and stink the place up both on the cyber and airspace.
It's these smelly people that I simply cant stand. They walk in the room and instantly you can smell, taste, and sadly feel their presence. It is as though something died inside them at birth and magically only through the fantastical drudgery of osmosis this horrible bouquet of ass-and-spice escapres and infects the air with its existence. For fucks sake, I wonder how they dont smell themselves? Maybe they dont smell at all. I'm sure that by the time they were able to conscious remember and register things, their nostral glandes were long deceased. It's even funnier how those who surround these people withold what they feel in order to be "friendly" to them. How is this being friendly? By allowing them to continue on and fumigate every place they may journey to, offending every person they cross paths with on the way? Even mac daddy JC and his 12 boys would have the common decency to walk up to one of these people and nicely shout in there ears "FOR CHRIST, MY OWN GOOD SELF'S SAKE, TAKE A SHOWER OR DISCOVER DEODERANT!"
But sometimes I wonder, is deoderant enough? I mean some of these people's problems are just.... they're simply mind-boggling. I'm talking to the point that they're stench condenses on their dual-monitor setup's surface, making a green puke-colored film on it. For the monitors I've come up with this nice little invention:
This bad motherfucker has it all. It answers any possible needs you may have if your having problems keeping your horrendous body odor undercontrol. First we'll start out with our custom-mounter ventillation system. This baby r0x0rs your smelly ass s0x0rs with dual Thomas industrial strength exhaust fans. These sluts will move air more than the area between Micheal Jackson and a little boys ass. Secondly I'd like to call your attention ot the pair of deluxe middleweight children's boxing gloves. Sitting next to someone who smells bad? If they were considerate enough to have purchased my Anti-co-smellular Monitor system, you can simply reach over to these bad boys and knock yourself out. Thats right, smoke yourself right in the face because the smelling won't stop, so you might as well take a break from consciousness. Who knows, maybe when you awake the person will have left. Finally direct your eyes towards the William B. Ruger Endowment Special NRA Edition Mark II Pistol, conveniently located at the top of the monitor. When things get bad... just kill youself man. Seriously, when you smell THAT bad it's the only way out. And of course this is all mounted on today's top of the line Sony Monitor. available to you for only one hundred easy payments of 19.95, payable in sexual favors.
Ohhh yes boys and girls, you know what today is? Today is the day I can walk down to Wal-Mart, purchase a rifle, hold-up a porno store, go see some strippers, than be tried as an adult for doing it all. That's right, it's my 18th birthday. So today in celebration of my bd I'll be absolutely slandering every article I read on the internet. Expect alot of a BLOGATION BiHaTche! But I'll first show you my supernatural abilities to run on walls. This is a REAL picture it really wasn't doctored. Contact Weber, Heffner, Cabell, Brady, or anyone else at that LAN party. I just can run really fast to stop from falling. I eventually did fall and it left me bruised badly.
Monday, October 20, 2003
Lil bita News
Just figured I'd welcome our two new authors to the page, John and Kyle. They'll be posting similar things to my own material, just so you kids have some more info to sink those sick little teeth into. G'day.
Today we'll be having a review of my piece of shit keyboard. I've had it up to my eyes with this thing's shit. Like it has selective working-ness. (for lack of a better real word. If you can think of a better one post it, if not shut your face.) For example, while I'm playing counterstrike it only works when I'm alive, which is when you primarily DON'T use the keyboard. But as soon as we spawn Shizamalama! It works. It's like God's way of taunting me. Well, one of his ways at least. This is what my keyboard looks like right now:
As you can see it appears to be of sleek, technological, and masterful quality. But as we all know, nothing is as it appears. If my keyboard were to show its' true colors, it would look like:
Yes that's right, it would show its full colors as a keyboard fully equipped with a steaming pile of dog shit. Is it internet ready? Inter-teligent as some people like to call it? Hellz yah mo-fo, it's got the intellect of our good friend and hetero-lifemate Bartolomeu the Emu. It can somehow mis-spell all of your words, even though you're pressing the right keys and even check/delete all important emails with the swift press of a button. Guerrino De Luca, you can suck my left testicle you fucking douche bag. What the fuck were you thinkin' man? Why would you let your company Logitech, one of THE leading PC peripheral companies produce this piece of rubbish in plastic disguise? You snortin' some lines man? If Jesus himself came down here and told you this thing sucked ass, would you take it off the market? Please say yes because Halloween is right around the corner and I plan on trick-or-treating your ass in my Nazareth Nissan, Jerusalem-Cruiser sandals buddy. I'm talkin' mullet and all, cuz this keyboard deserves to be subjected to as much torture and toil as possible. Yes, even a life with Richard Simmons. Good night good friends, and keep your pants on til next time.
As you can see it appears to be of sleek, technological, and masterful quality. But as we all know, nothing is as it appears. If my keyboard were to show its' true colors, it would look like:
Yes that's right, it would show its full colors as a keyboard fully equipped with a steaming pile of dog shit. Is it internet ready? Inter-teligent as some people like to call it? Hellz yah mo-fo, it's got the intellect of our good friend and hetero-lifemate Bartolomeu the Emu. It can somehow mis-spell all of your words, even though you're pressing the right keys and even check/delete all important emails with the swift press of a button. Guerrino De Luca, you can suck my left testicle you fucking douche bag. What the fuck were you thinkin' man? Why would you let your company Logitech, one of THE leading PC peripheral companies produce this piece of rubbish in plastic disguise? You snortin' some lines man? If Jesus himself came down here and told you this thing sucked ass, would you take it off the market? Please say yes because Halloween is right around the corner and I plan on trick-or-treating your ass in my Nazareth Nissan, Jerusalem-Cruiser sandals buddy. I'm talkin' mullet and all, cuz this keyboard deserves to be subjected to as much torture and toil as possible. Yes, even a life with Richard Simmons. Good night good friends, and keep your pants on til next time.
Friday, October 17, 2003
If this computer was a baby, I'd fucking shake it until it Coo'd its last Coo. I'm THAT angry right now. I love the mindset of people today, really, I do. See, in order for me to even remotely make you all feel how I feel right now... I'd need a razor, salt, and a chinese water torture device.
The nerve that SOME people have. You fucking bend over backwards for them, go completely out of your way to help them, and they get angry because you didn't do enough!? Sound a little obsurd to you too? Good cuz I know I think it is. I really don't even know how to approach this. I mean I go from a position of playing the nice guy, to being a dick who was inconsiderate.
So by now you're all probly wondering what I'm talking about, right? Thought so. Well I think I'll do this in story form, and I won't use names for the sake of the people involved. (I really should, really, I should.)
So Mike is at a party:
and so is Sallly,
someone Mike is attracted too.
So Mike pal's around with Sally the entire night, hoping maybe they will grow closer. In the end, Sally's friend is drunk to, and she is all Sally cares about, which is a good good thing. Sally wants Mike to check on her friend to make sure she is okay, but she didnt realize that she was just as drunk as her friend! Mike only has two hands and two feet, so he cares for Sally while she throws up/recovers/etc. After the party, a few days later, Sally reprimands Mike for not helping her friend, making it seem as though he was selfish.
-End Story Time-
This is what mike feels:
My point? I have none. I'll just continue on down the road of being a nice guy, hoping to find someone who wont trample my feelings into the dirt. Thanks Sally.
The nerve that SOME people have. You fucking bend over backwards for them, go completely out of your way to help them, and they get angry because you didn't do enough!? Sound a little obsurd to you too? Good cuz I know I think it is. I really don't even know how to approach this. I mean I go from a position of playing the nice guy, to being a dick who was inconsiderate.
So by now you're all probly wondering what I'm talking about, right? Thought so. Well I think I'll do this in story form, and I won't use names for the sake of the people involved. (I really should, really, I should.)
So Mike is at a party:
and so is Sallly,
someone Mike is attracted too.
So Mike pal's around with Sally the entire night, hoping maybe they will grow closer. In the end, Sally's friend is drunk to, and she is all Sally cares about, which is a good good thing. Sally wants Mike to check on her friend to make sure she is okay, but she didnt realize that she was just as drunk as her friend! Mike only has two hands and two feet, so he cares for Sally while she throws up/recovers/etc. After the party, a few days later, Sally reprimands Mike for not helping her friend, making it seem as though he was selfish.
-End Story Time-
This is what mike feels:
My point? I have none. I'll just continue on down the road of being a nice guy, hoping to find someone who wont trample my feelings into the dirt. Thanks Sally.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Well hello hello friends, it's been awhile indeed. And how are all of you tonight? (And I do mean tonight... I should be asleep right now, but since you guys are actually enjoying reading my writing, I can do a lil sacrificing :) Just do me a favor and POST ON THE FORUM) Today's been an interesting day at least. Somber in part due to the passing away of a friend of my mom's but happy in that I've progressed up a rank to my orange belt (yay :D ) in karate.
Therefore, tonight's post will be about one of the main reasons why I oh-so-love karate and blogging both the same. Why? Because I can make people feel my fat aggression. Yes sir-e nothing feels better than laying down a sweet ass beating on a kicking bag (eventually I'll be able to say person, but let's not get too ahead of ourselves.). On the blog side of things, I can always resort to lewd and twisted humor, and a decent voacbulary (thanks beckie g. if ur reading this), to get things down and off my chest. Smack that monkey, smack him right off your back.... sorry, inner-thoughts coming out.
Anyways, today was yet another fun-filled day at Hafey. You know I hate to become redundant and repetitive, but this subject REALLY warrants a severe verbal assault session. My God forsake Calc teacher is a fucking joke. It's as plain and simple as that. I mean what kind of person starts to reprimand by saying "I'm tired of you insulting me by talking over me and..." than continuing to crack a smile, and eventually somehow circle-jerking her way down the road of Ima Pushover to "I wanna crack you guys silly." (All in one nice, nonsensical run-on too). Oh and her strictness is just comical. It's like she's trying to coax us into listening to her. "You're test is tomorrow" 5 minutes pass "We'll make that a quiz." 3 minutes pass "That'll be on friday." and finally 30 seconds later "Ya, that test will be monday." It's classes like her's that make me think I have altzheimer's, because everytime I leave I'm always muddering "Wow, I forgot how much I hate that her. I am now dumber."
K, now that my eyelids feel like an over-raped jailmate's ass, dieing to just be closed for 8 hours, I think I'll be going to bed now. Lovepeaceandchickengrease.
Therefore, tonight's post will be about one of the main reasons why I oh-so-love karate and blogging both the same. Why? Because I can make people feel my fat aggression. Yes sir-e nothing feels better than laying down a sweet ass beating on a kicking bag (eventually I'll be able to say person, but let's not get too ahead of ourselves.). On the blog side of things, I can always resort to lewd and twisted humor, and a decent voacbulary (thanks beckie g. if ur reading this), to get things down and off my chest. Smack that monkey, smack him right off your back.... sorry, inner-thoughts coming out.
Anyways, today was yet another fun-filled day at Hafey. You know I hate to become redundant and repetitive, but this subject REALLY warrants a severe verbal assault session. My God forsake Calc teacher is a fucking joke. It's as plain and simple as that. I mean what kind of person starts to reprimand by saying "I'm tired of you insulting me by talking over me and..." than continuing to crack a smile, and eventually somehow circle-jerking her way down the road of Ima Pushover to "I wanna crack you guys silly." (All in one nice, nonsensical run-on too). Oh and her strictness is just comical. It's like she's trying to coax us into listening to her. "You're test is tomorrow" 5 minutes pass "We'll make that a quiz." 3 minutes pass "That'll be on friday." and finally 30 seconds later "Ya, that test will be monday." It's classes like her's that make me think I have altzheimer's, because everytime I leave I'm always muddering "Wow, I forgot how much I hate that her. I am now dumber."
K, now that my eyelids feel like an over-raped jailmate's ass, dieing to just be closed for 8 hours, I think I'll be going to bed now. Lovepeaceandchickengrease.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
Okay I've come to realize that I will problably never be blogging on the weekends. Why? Simply because I usually have fun on the weekends, and nothing really angers me much than. Just figured I'd give you all a heads up on that, in case you were wondering why I haven't posted. (Megan.) Have a good vacation!
Thursday, October 09, 2003
The Fantastical Life in Hazleton
Alright time to rant. After a nice little convo with my good friend J-Weber (see his blog, or perish), I've been inspired to explain what life is like in my town, Hazleton.
Topic I. The Night Life
Now what would a great town be like without a superb night life, filled with a plentiful array of things to do. The answer: Hazleton. The main attractions in Hazleton are miniscule. There's about 2 main ones I can think of off hand. The first, "Mall n' Movies". What's this? Simple. Herd around a T shapped mall for about 3 hours with the inability to stop. Well can't I stop for a break! NO! What the fuck, are you nuts? What do you think this is an equal rights society or some shit? Bitch you're under the age of 50, (if you're not, God have mercy on your soul for being on a sight like this, you sick heretic fuck. Don't you have a Jahovah's witness convention to attend to?) you're not allowed to stop in the middle of the mall! You'll hold up traffic for all the older shoppers....that come out to shop at 8:00 friday night amongst a thousand teenagers.....to walk slowly... in... ya. You get my point. The douche bag Rent-a-Spam Fake-Baco's don't appreciate your backtalk here.
Well what happens if you do? Simple. You're escourted nicely to the boundry of the mall's property (lucky you, it just so happens to be major traffic route 93) and asked to "leave now, and don't come back." I know this because my friends have had this happen to them. I myself, however, have some how been able to elude deportation for all these years. How? No, idea. Maybe it's because I have extremely sensual man mojo, or maybe its because I know which guards are OK to harass. My favorite in particular was the Vet. from Vietnam who walks around with his POW tatoo's and missing teeth. He was wearing some rather peculiar tight leather gloves and I tried to coax him into frisking me. He whole-heartedly rejected my advances and asked me to simply go home.
The second and most highly abused thing to do on the weekends is "cruise". It usually consists of bopping back and forth from parking lot to parking lot, making short stops, or drive-bys in between. (no not real drive b....well maybe if you're in another part of Hazleton. You know what I'm talkin about fellow Hazy folk, but I'll start on that topic when I've moved FAR away, and have body guards/riot shields) Here's a few hotspot: Sheetz (good old Hank the security guard. Here's a little love note for you, if you can read that is. DIE. I fucking hate you, you old stuck up fuck. Everytime I come in your store wearing more than a t-shirt and shorts, you accuse me of stealing, and stand so close I could hear your go-nads shaking. I hope you get wrecked by an enraged soccer mom in a minivan you cock smoker.), Blockbuster, Hoyts parking lot, Wal-Mart, and finally Toy Works.
Topic II. The cars.
Whether they're riceburners or cancered-out muscle cars, good 'ole Hazy has got 'em all. Ah yes, here's a prime example:
oh oh and don't forget:
Case in point? If you're coming to Hazleton (Why you would, I have no idea.), bring the following items: a.) a camera b.) Oxygen tank to maintain consciousness while laughing c.) plastic explosives d.) a hammer (To smash out that nice full set of teeth, if you want to fit in of course.) e.) a plane ticket (So once you realize how bad it is here, you can get the FUCK OUT)
Alright time to rant. After a nice little convo with my good friend J-Weber (see his blog, or perish), I've been inspired to explain what life is like in my town, Hazleton.
Topic I. The Night Life
Now what would a great town be like without a superb night life, filled with a plentiful array of things to do. The answer: Hazleton. The main attractions in Hazleton are miniscule. There's about 2 main ones I can think of off hand. The first, "Mall n' Movies". What's this? Simple. Herd around a T shapped mall for about 3 hours with the inability to stop. Well can't I stop for a break! NO! What the fuck, are you nuts? What do you think this is an equal rights society or some shit? Bitch you're under the age of 50, (if you're not, God have mercy on your soul for being on a sight like this, you sick heretic fuck. Don't you have a Jahovah's witness convention to attend to?) you're not allowed to stop in the middle of the mall! You'll hold up traffic for all the older shoppers....that come out to shop at 8:00 friday night amongst a thousand teenagers.....to walk slowly... in... ya. You get my point. The douche bag Rent-a-Spam Fake-Baco's don't appreciate your backtalk here.
Well what happens if you do? Simple. You're escourted nicely to the boundry of the mall's property (lucky you, it just so happens to be major traffic route 93) and asked to "leave now, and don't come back." I know this because my friends have had this happen to them. I myself, however, have some how been able to elude deportation for all these years. How? No, idea. Maybe it's because I have extremely sensual man mojo, or maybe its because I know which guards are OK to harass. My favorite in particular was the Vet. from Vietnam who walks around with his POW tatoo's and missing teeth. He was wearing some rather peculiar tight leather gloves and I tried to coax him into frisking me. He whole-heartedly rejected my advances and asked me to simply go home.
The second and most highly abused thing to do on the weekends is "cruise". It usually consists of bopping back and forth from parking lot to parking lot, making short stops, or drive-bys in between. (no not real drive b....well maybe if you're in another part of Hazleton. You know what I'm talkin about fellow Hazy folk, but I'll start on that topic when I've moved FAR away, and have body guards/riot shields) Here's a few hotspot: Sheetz (good old Hank the security guard. Here's a little love note for you, if you can read that is. DIE. I fucking hate you, you old stuck up fuck. Everytime I come in your store wearing more than a t-shirt and shorts, you accuse me of stealing, and stand so close I could hear your go-nads shaking. I hope you get wrecked by an enraged soccer mom in a minivan you cock smoker.), Blockbuster, Hoyts parking lot, Wal-Mart, and finally Toy Works.
Topic II. The cars.
Whether they're riceburners or cancered-out muscle cars, good 'ole Hazy has got 'em all. Ah yes, here's a prime example:
oh oh and don't forget:
Case in point? If you're coming to Hazleton (Why you would, I have no idea.), bring the following items: a.) a camera b.) Oxygen tank to maintain consciousness while laughing c.) plastic explosives d.) a hammer (To smash out that nice full set of teeth, if you want to fit in of course.) e.) a plane ticket (So once you realize how bad it is here, you can get the FUCK OUT)
Alright after sorting through problably the funniest gallery on the face of the earth (at clappingfetus.com of course) I've come up with the most disturbing picture EVER.
Rediculous
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Arnold Re-count
Where to start, where to start, where to start. Maybe by praying? I mean honestly. You know the world is coming to imminent destruction when a guy who once flexed his ass muscles in a thong for a crowd is elected as Governor of the biggerest (no its not a typo) state in your country's government. But let's get serious. Maybe he actually does know his shit. Maybe he'll bring some fast-action-heroistic theories to the table that will blow the yellow polka-dotted panties right off the senate.
But now that I'm done busting Arnie's balls, however small they may be from steroids, I'd like to wish him a happy term, and good luck dodging all the assassination attempts.
Where to start, where to start, where to start. Maybe by praying? I mean honestly. You know the world is coming to imminent destruction when a guy who once flexed his ass muscles in a thong for a crowd is elected as Governor of the biggerest (no its not a typo) state in your country's government. But let's get serious. Maybe he actually does know his shit. Maybe he'll bring some fast-action-heroistic theories to the table that will blow the yellow polka-dotted panties right off the senate.
OR
on a more realistic note, society as we know it will problably crumble because he actually is a cyborg from the future, coming to kill us all. I mean he did warn us... "I'll be back". Okay okay so I wont be so rough on our Austrian buddy. I mean he did promise to not raise taxes unless it is in case of emergency. Oh, did I mention that it is Austrian culture to have an emergency bi-weekly, usually resulting in some sort of law to segregate, oppress, and punish the girly-men and girly..... (girls?) of the nation? I mean common, its fucking Arnold Schwarzenegger.... only the big guy knows what his idea of a real emergency is. For all we know, stubbing a toe can result in all out nuclear warfare on those Chinese bastards who made the table causing the incident. (Yes, even the slave shop workers get it!)But now that I'm done busting Arnie's balls, however small they may be from steroids, I'd like to wish him a happy term, and good luck dodging all the assassination attempts.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Hello there gentle internet users. Today was yet another less-than exciting day. But during the 6 study halls out of 8 periods today, I've come up with a format for my site! I've decided to do (at minimum, of course) one blog about how fucked up my day was, and than a post about something that interests/offends/angers me. Chances are I'll throw in a rant here or there too. Now onto business. Today started out like it was a monday. I did nothing in my first 4 periods, sleeping in most of them and barely being able to stumble from classroom to classroom. And than there was lunch.
Now I don't know how your lunch is (whether you're at school, work, prison, mental institute, etc.) where you eat, but mine is usually rather interesting. The comments being throw around the table are rediculous. And the level of intelligence plumits like a downed israeli bi-plane over the Washington Memorial. Like this week for example. One of the people at my table seems to have an uncanny obsession for babies. (Use your imagination and reach to the farthest extent of perversity, than multiply that by about 100 and thats how bad his fascination is.) He's really grown found of abusing the bejesus out of the word "pre-natal". I don't know if its because it's one of the few words he can say that are multi-syllablized, or if it's just cuz he is THAT fucked up, but he just pounds the hell out of it.
Anyways, so I'm basking in the humor of words being exchanged, and low and behold that little son-of-a-bitch "pre-natal" pops up in the phrase "Yooo man, how cool would that be to fuck a pregnant lady, and than fuck a hole in the baby! Nyah hah hah, that'd be like pre-natal child abuse". Now as you can imagine, my stomache didn't like this very much, but being a crazy war-time hero fool that I am, I'm used to hearing these sorts of things, so I was able to finish my lunch quazi-peacfully.
Today was a little different. Did you ever have one of those days when you wake up, and you feel like theres a teabag wrapped around your uvula (no not labia you sick fuckers)? Well that was what I felt like all day. Basically my gag reflex was more easily upset than Humptie Dumpty on the brick wall after snorting a line. Lunch time comes, and the usual daily banter continues at the table. I'm happily enjoying my hoagie, when my friend Sam nicely draws to my attention that my hoagie is leaking "milk". No I didnt purchase a lactating hoagie, but it was just a little soggie and the cheese was mixing with the water, thus looking like milk. Of course this was a little perturbing, but the thing that cause me to write this is what soon followed. By even drawing attention to the "milky" substance coming from my hoagie Sam unleashed exactly what I had feared most, the wonderful words of Nick Angelo. I knew than that after this had begun I wouldn't be able to finish my lunch. Of course he started off with the ever-so-juvenile "Ohh mann that looks like jizz!" remarks. Bearable. But than the banter continued on, eventually reaching its way to yup, you guessed it, PRE-NATAL!! It's lunch periods like today that make me want to cut out my tounge and than choke on it.
So after my lunch period, we continue onto programming, which isnt that interesting considering I took the class last year. So why am I continuing to write? Because in order to reach last period you have to go through second to last period, dumbass. Well what's so special about last period? Interesting you ask. The entire last period of my "school" day is special. No, I don't mean special like extraordinary, I mean special like little Tommy who licks the windows on the shortbus that you see everday on your way to school. I sometimes wonder where they find these so called "educators" at my school. The lady uses kindergarten terminology to teach a fucking accelerated Calculus class to high school seniors for christ's sake. It's to the point where I'd rather eat my book and die than goto that class and be oh-so-mentally punished. If there is a god out there, I know he's sitting in heaven, everyday at 1:44-2:25, giving me the finger, laughing at me. Why? Beats the fuck out of me but I must've really stepped on some of the wrong toes in a past life to deserve that shit. That's all for today though, not too much of an eventful day, and I'm way to bored/tired to even be whitty about it :-p
Now I don't know how your lunch is (whether you're at school, work, prison, mental institute, etc.) where you eat, but mine is usually rather interesting. The comments being throw around the table are rediculous. And the level of intelligence plumits like a downed israeli bi-plane over the Washington Memorial. Like this week for example. One of the people at my table seems to have an uncanny obsession for babies. (Use your imagination and reach to the farthest extent of perversity, than multiply that by about 100 and thats how bad his fascination is.) He's really grown found of abusing the bejesus out of the word "pre-natal". I don't know if its because it's one of the few words he can say that are multi-syllablized, or if it's just cuz he is THAT fucked up, but he just pounds the hell out of it.
Anyways, so I'm basking in the humor of words being exchanged, and low and behold that little son-of-a-bitch "pre-natal" pops up in the phrase "Yooo man, how cool would that be to fuck a pregnant lady, and than fuck a hole in the baby! Nyah hah hah, that'd be like pre-natal child abuse". Now as you can imagine, my stomache didn't like this very much, but being a crazy war-time hero fool that I am, I'm used to hearing these sorts of things, so I was able to finish my lunch quazi-peacfully.
Today was a little different. Did you ever have one of those days when you wake up, and you feel like theres a teabag wrapped around your uvula (no not labia you sick fuckers)? Well that was what I felt like all day. Basically my gag reflex was more easily upset than Humptie Dumpty on the brick wall after snorting a line. Lunch time comes, and the usual daily banter continues at the table. I'm happily enjoying my hoagie, when my friend Sam nicely draws to my attention that my hoagie is leaking "milk". No I didnt purchase a lactating hoagie, but it was just a little soggie and the cheese was mixing with the water, thus looking like milk. Of course this was a little perturbing, but the thing that cause me to write this is what soon followed. By even drawing attention to the "milky" substance coming from my hoagie Sam unleashed exactly what I had feared most, the wonderful words of Nick Angelo. I knew than that after this had begun I wouldn't be able to finish my lunch. Of course he started off with the ever-so-juvenile "Ohh mann that looks like jizz!" remarks. Bearable. But than the banter continued on, eventually reaching its way to yup, you guessed it, PRE-NATAL!! It's lunch periods like today that make me want to cut out my tounge and than choke on it.
So after my lunch period, we continue onto programming, which isnt that interesting considering I took the class last year. So why am I continuing to write? Because in order to reach last period you have to go through second to last period, dumbass. Well what's so special about last period? Interesting you ask. The entire last period of my "school" day is special. No, I don't mean special like extraordinary, I mean special like little Tommy who licks the windows on the shortbus that you see everday on your way to school. I sometimes wonder where they find these so called "educators" at my school. The lady uses kindergarten terminology to teach a fucking accelerated Calculus class to high school seniors for christ's sake. It's to the point where I'd rather eat my book and die than goto that class and be oh-so-mentally punished. If there is a god out there, I know he's sitting in heaven, everyday at 1:44-2:25, giving me the finger, laughing at me. Why? Beats the fuck out of me but I must've really stepped on some of the wrong toes in a past life to deserve that shit. That's all for today though, not too much of an eventful day, and I'm way to bored/tired to even be whitty about it :-p
Monday, October 06, 2003
'Siegfried & Roy' Star Critical, Vegas Show Closed
On a beginning note, I'd just like to say that this is whole weblog idea is seriously going to tempt me to vent about anything that even remotely offends/angers/pisses me off, so expect the post rate to continue going up. So anyway, I'm fumbling about yahoo.com and I decide to enter the news section. Now the average biped would surmise that the "News" button, being that it is of somewhat of importance would be easily found. But no, we have to hide it underneath the children and horoscopes. Sorry, easily side-tracked.
So once I actually do get into the news, I come upon this article. No as you may or may not know, Siegfried & Roy are two of the most famous "magicians" in Vegas. Now whether their making cocks disappear in eachothers asses or cars appear (out of their asses?), they usually are quite amusing. But this article added a whole new definition to AMUSING. These sick pricks have always had two white tigers as their signature "pets" or companions or god knows what else they use them for off stage. They have them in cages to add some sort of fearful effect on the crowd, and usually make them disappear or some shit. ( Ohhh mystifying, tamed animals.)
And then this comes along. The tigers get fed up enough, with the retarded ass magic tricks, and the horrible sexual acts that these two fuckers have been putting them through and BAM they decide to mame one of the bastards. NO I don't feel bad about this at all. I'm actually quite happy that it happened. I mean think about it? How would you like being stuck in a cage, made to watch a crowd full of morons gape at you with open mouths, and than be subjected to hours upon hours of gay shenanigans at home when Roy toy and Seig-freak go at it on your Tiger-ass. I'd like to whack those fuckers out myself. Thank god the tigers did it for me. Further more it makes me wonder if the tigers were planning this the whole time or if it was just one of them reaching the brink of insanity. If I could speak Bengal tiger I'd bet you any money that night after night the two tigers sat and just thought up of when they were gonna make the atrocities stop.
On a beginning note, I'd just like to say that this is whole weblog idea is seriously going to tempt me to vent about anything that even remotely offends/angers/pisses me off, so expect the post rate to continue going up. So anyway, I'm fumbling about yahoo.com and I decide to enter the news section. Now the average biped would surmise that the "News" button, being that it is of somewhat of importance would be easily found. But no, we have to hide it underneath the children and horoscopes. Sorry, easily side-tracked.
So once I actually do get into the news, I come upon this article. No as you may or may not know, Siegfried & Roy are two of the most famous "magicians" in Vegas. Now whether their making cocks disappear in eachothers asses or cars appear (out of their asses?), they usually are quite amusing. But this article added a whole new definition to AMUSING. These sick pricks have always had two white tigers as their signature "pets" or companions or god knows what else they use them for off stage. They have them in cages to add some sort of fearful effect on the crowd, and usually make them disappear or some shit. ( Ohhh mystifying, tamed animals.)
And then this comes along. The tigers get fed up enough, with the retarded ass magic tricks, and the horrible sexual acts that these two fuckers have been putting them through and BAM they decide to mame one of the bastards. NO I don't feel bad about this at all. I'm actually quite happy that it happened. I mean think about it? How would you like being stuck in a cage, made to watch a crowd full of morons gape at you with open mouths, and than be subjected to hours upon hours of gay shenanigans at home when Roy toy and Seig-freak go at it on your Tiger-ass. I'd like to whack those fuckers out myself. Thank god the tigers did it for me. Further more it makes me wonder if the tigers were planning this the whole time or if it was just one of them reaching the brink of insanity. If I could speak Bengal tiger I'd bet you any money that night after night the two tigers sat and just thought up of when they were gonna make the atrocities stop.
Due to popular demand from important people, I've decided to further explain my endeavours today, with hopes to enlighten some unclarities. Firstly, I would like to point you towards diagram A:
Now in today's situation, the agressor was homofag 1, who was on the right. We'll call him Phillip. He was accompanied by his homo-lifemate, Isaac, homofag two displayed nicely on the left. Phillip did all the talking and Isaac stood there, laughed, and publicly displayed his inferiorness to his anal partner. This lead me to conclude that when engaged in intercourse, Isaac is definetly the one taking it in the ass. Maybe this is why his hair is so incredibly fucked up? Did Phillip cum in it? Was this money shot follow by a second assfucking, with Isaac's head flush against a wall, thus causing the vertical spikes? We may never know...
Now in today's situation, the agressor was homofag 1, who was on the right. We'll call him Phillip. He was accompanied by his homo-lifemate, Isaac, homofag two displayed nicely on the left. Phillip did all the talking and Isaac stood there, laughed, and publicly displayed his inferiorness to his anal partner. This lead me to conclude that when engaged in intercourse, Isaac is definetly the one taking it in the ass. Maybe this is why his hair is so incredibly fucked up? Did Phillip cum in it? Was this money shot follow by a second assfucking, with Isaac's head flush against a wall, thus causing the vertical spikes? We may never know...
Well today started off on the right foot by me not having to goto any classes (not that I have any real classes anyway, but still, I had none today. Why? Men in tight pants. That's right, I didnt just have a Froidian slip, I actually purposely said "Men in tight pants". You see the fantastical dramatists at King College in Wilke-Barre decided to put on their rendition of Hamlet: Prince of Denmark today for a few of the Catholic High Schools.
After leaving the school promptly (45 minutes late), we show up to an auditorium with seating scarcely located few and far between. This wasn't a problem considering my class is seperated into several scores of opposing factions, so everyone got along fine. Until the end.
So after the play Ray and I see a few flamers from this other school walk by us heading down the stairs, with rediculous haircuts and even more flamboient personalities, and thus we couldnt help but stare at them. And than one of them decides to drop his sack and say something to Ray. (For those of you who don't know Ray, he's about 5'4" and maybe 120lbs. He's not exactly intimidating, but he doesn't take shit from anyone, whether its safe or not.) "What are you lookin' at?" says the handjob from Bishop O'Reilly. Ray replies, "A pussy, yes, I'm looking at a pussy." Now shortly after this kind exchange of words, we continued on down the stairs ourselves, only to be herded into a mass of people, right next to our dicksucking friends from Hoban. A few minutes after this, Hoban begins to leave the college, and head to their respective short buses. The hard guy of the dynamic duo desides to shove Ray as he leaves, pushing Ray into me. Ray immediately pursues him outside and says "Common you fuckin pussy, bring it right here." As soon as I saw this, I worked my way outside, and saw that both of the crusaders were huddled near Ray. Of course both of them backed down, walking away muttering "I cant fight you here man, you're not worth my time." Of course this behavior deserved some sort of sculding, so I nicely brought to attention that: "Hey, you have a really nice haircut you fucking faggot." He twitched a bit as he walked away.
And this brings me to a rant. I love how people love to talk shit, and than never back it up. Now I have nothing against Ray, but the kid who was talking smack to him was almost 2 feet taller than him.... and he did seem like he was fairly built. But of course, oh no, as soon as we're confronted, our balls deside to play hide and go seek and our egos stereroid highs instantly disappear. My simple point: Talk shit all you please as long as you can back it up.
Oh, and to all of you cock suckers from O'Reilly, eat a dick and die. I hope all of your homes are firebombed and your families are pillaged by pig-monkey men from the Ugandan Forests. Have a nice day ;)
After leaving the school promptly (45 minutes late), we show up to an auditorium with seating scarcely located few and far between. This wasn't a problem considering my class is seperated into several scores of opposing factions, so everyone got along fine. Until the end.
So after the play Ray and I see a few flamers from this other school walk by us heading down the stairs, with rediculous haircuts and even more flamboient personalities, and thus we couldnt help but stare at them. And than one of them decides to drop his sack and say something to Ray. (For those of you who don't know Ray, he's about 5'4" and maybe 120lbs. He's not exactly intimidating, but he doesn't take shit from anyone, whether its safe or not.) "What are you lookin' at?" says the handjob from Bishop O'Reilly. Ray replies, "A pussy, yes, I'm looking at a pussy." Now shortly after this kind exchange of words, we continued on down the stairs ourselves, only to be herded into a mass of people, right next to our dicksucking friends from Hoban. A few minutes after this, Hoban begins to leave the college, and head to their respective short buses. The hard guy of the dynamic duo desides to shove Ray as he leaves, pushing Ray into me. Ray immediately pursues him outside and says "Common you fuckin pussy, bring it right here." As soon as I saw this, I worked my way outside, and saw that both of the crusaders were huddled near Ray. Of course both of them backed down, walking away muttering "I cant fight you here man, you're not worth my time." Of course this behavior deserved some sort of sculding, so I nicely brought to attention that: "Hey, you have a really nice haircut you fucking faggot." He twitched a bit as he walked away.
And this brings me to a rant. I love how people love to talk shit, and than never back it up. Now I have nothing against Ray, but the kid who was talking smack to him was almost 2 feet taller than him.... and he did seem like he was fairly built. But of course, oh no, as soon as we're confronted, our balls deside to play hide and go seek and our egos stereroid highs instantly disappear. My simple point: Talk shit all you please as long as you can back it up.
Oh, and to all of you cock suckers from O'Reilly, eat a dick and die. I hope all of your homes are firebombed and your families are pillaged by pig-monkey men from the Ugandan Forests. Have a nice day ;)
Sunday, October 05, 2003
Alrighty, after much tweaking I think this is about as good as the layout of the page is getting. Dont forget to say hello in the Question/Comments forum... That really isnt a good name for that button is it? Wat's a better name for that? Leave me some ideas.
First post on the Weblog.... you and I are going to become friends, I can tell already. Well let's see what exactly happened today: ..... nothing. Surprised? Don't be. Here in the sweetest town on the face of the earth, known as Hazleton, nothing is a very popular thing to do. But today was different. You see I was supposed to do something today, but instead I ended up cutting grass, missing Neotaerik's band practice in the process.
SO, a frustrated and a broken man, I returned home to plant my ass in this leathery swivle thrown know as a computer chair, and start up this website. Besides that though, today was just another uneventful Sunday. I would bring up some sort of discussion, but my brain is shot for now and I'm really not angry (now that is surprising) about anything for once. But hey, the night isnt over yet, right? Right. So there just may be a second post on here.
SO, a frustrated and a broken man, I returned home to plant my ass in this leathery swivle thrown know as a computer chair, and start up this website. Besides that though, today was just another uneventful Sunday. I would bring up some sort of discussion, but my brain is shot for now and I'm really not angry (now that is surprising) about anything for once. But hey, the night isnt over yet, right? Right. So there just may be a second post on here.
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