Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Rice Rice Baby: Dear Darlings,
Rice Rice Baby: Dear Darlings,: I apologize for keeping all of my faithful readers without content all day. I must inform you that most of my posting will be done arou...
Thursday, July 11, 2013
"How to Serve Man"
The idea is much appreciated Erin Haan, I kind of had no idea what I was doing, so just roll with it.
The year is now 2878 if you were to still follow a Gregorian calendar. 293 years after the first Kluurgg invasion, and 63 years after the Umungs rebellion. Generations had came and gone knowing nothing other than these 2 simple facts, which had now became an unspoken laws: Any form of rebellion resulted in immediate relocation to Kilontri Umpbar in the Qarsec region. A more simple pair of words would be torture chamber, but such words had been lost, like many others, with the lives of the rebels who thought they could outsmart their new overlords.
The other law was much more simple, and pleasant, at least, compared to the alternative. The second law was that you must always remain mentally stimulated during Quark hour. It was not hard to do, given the fact that the all you had to do was stare at the giant screen for an hour. Life for the Umung was to the point where they didn't even have to think about the fact that they were- well, thinking.
The Qaturilli region housed nearly 200 million Umungs. It was one of the largest of regions on what was left of Earth. Umungs originally had populations well over 15 billion, but the number was easily halved after the first year of the invasion, and subsequently lowered until their numbers were much more manageable by the Kluurggs. One some accounts, the numbers were much closer to 4 billion, half living in each Region but it is impossible to trust any data from the Qarsec Region, So Khalistar only dealt with what he knew was fact.
Personally, Khalistar figured it would be easier to just obliterate the entire planet, and quit wasting time with these annoying pink creatures. But, he had been left in control of the harvest, one of the most important jobs in the whole process. It still irritated him that, while given a high position, he was still stuck on Earth dealing with stinky Umungs rather than sitting in on part of the high council with his older Brother Khalikhan. He remembered the day he had been given the order. It was a bitter memory, but every detail was still crystal clear in his mind. He decided a quick walk would help clear his mind, for he had a lot of work to do in the upcoming weeks before the Great Khalikhan- Leader of the council, would come to visit his lovely Earth for the harvest, a matter most important indeed.
--~~--~~--~~
"It's quite simple really, the Umungs are an interesting creature. Most of them follow the stimulus and are quite docile. The matter they possess however, is worth less than the air they need to breathe. But alas, we need to keep them for breeding purposes." The class listened in curiously too see what else their teacher could tell them about these, strange, and apparently useless creatures. The teacher continued on after quickly scanning to make sure all of the young Kluurggs were awake.
"You see, A dumb Umung is much easier to control than a smart one. But in order to harvest their matter it must be properly stimulated. Which presents us with the great dilemma." The class leaned in closer, what dilemma was so strong that it troubled even the great Kluurgg race?
" Everyday. the Umungs are monitored during the Quark hour for any signs of intelligence. This is vital to the existence of our race" "However, any Umung we find with an unusual amount of brain activity has a much higher chance to rebel the harvesting process. If they give us entire that decide to Rebel however, are quickly removed and given to the Qarsecs." the group of young Qanturilli's gasped. "And we are unable to process the intelligence."
Short story long. Aliens want our brains. Does that make them zombies? spoo0oo0oky.
Poop. I got distracted and kind of put this off watching funny videos online. I have no idea what to think of this, I hope it satisfied you hahaha.
The year is now 2878 if you were to still follow a Gregorian calendar. 293 years after the first Kluurgg invasion, and 63 years after the Umungs rebellion. Generations had came and gone knowing nothing other than these 2 simple facts, which had now became an unspoken laws: Any form of rebellion resulted in immediate relocation to Kilontri Umpbar in the Qarsec region. A more simple pair of words would be torture chamber, but such words had been lost, like many others, with the lives of the rebels who thought they could outsmart their new overlords.
The other law was much more simple, and pleasant, at least, compared to the alternative. The second law was that you must always remain mentally stimulated during Quark hour. It was not hard to do, given the fact that the all you had to do was stare at the giant screen for an hour. Life for the Umung was to the point where they didn't even have to think about the fact that they were- well, thinking.
The Qaturilli region housed nearly 200 million Umungs. It was one of the largest of regions on what was left of Earth. Umungs originally had populations well over 15 billion, but the number was easily halved after the first year of the invasion, and subsequently lowered until their numbers were much more manageable by the Kluurggs. One some accounts, the numbers were much closer to 4 billion, half living in each Region but it is impossible to trust any data from the Qarsec Region, So Khalistar only dealt with what he knew was fact.
Personally, Khalistar figured it would be easier to just obliterate the entire planet, and quit wasting time with these annoying pink creatures. But, he had been left in control of the harvest, one of the most important jobs in the whole process. It still irritated him that, while given a high position, he was still stuck on Earth dealing with stinky Umungs rather than sitting in on part of the high council with his older Brother Khalikhan. He remembered the day he had been given the order. It was a bitter memory, but every detail was still crystal clear in his mind. He decided a quick walk would help clear his mind, for he had a lot of work to do in the upcoming weeks before the Great Khalikhan- Leader of the council, would come to visit his lovely Earth for the harvest, a matter most important indeed.
--~~--~~--~~
"It's quite simple really, the Umungs are an interesting creature. Most of them follow the stimulus and are quite docile. The matter they possess however, is worth less than the air they need to breathe. But alas, we need to keep them for breeding purposes." The class listened in curiously too see what else their teacher could tell them about these, strange, and apparently useless creatures. The teacher continued on after quickly scanning to make sure all of the young Kluurggs were awake.
"You see, A dumb Umung is much easier to control than a smart one. But in order to harvest their matter it must be properly stimulated. Which presents us with the great dilemma." The class leaned in closer, what dilemma was so strong that it troubled even the great Kluurgg race?
" Everyday. the Umungs are monitored during the Quark hour for any signs of intelligence. This is vital to the existence of our race" "However, any Umung we find with an unusual amount of brain activity has a much higher chance to rebel the harvesting process. If they give us entire that decide to Rebel however, are quickly removed and given to the Qarsecs." the group of young Qanturilli's gasped. "And we are unable to process the intelligence."
Short story long. Aliens want our brains. Does that make them zombies? spoo0oo0oky.
Poop. I got distracted and kind of put this off watching funny videos online. I have no idea what to think of this, I hope it satisfied you hahaha.
Friday, December 28, 2012
He-He-Here We go again...
Same ol' shit again.
I'm back, big whoop. I remembered back to my New Years Post last year and decided to share it with Facebook again. I have a ton of little errands that need to be done right now, but I'd rather put them off by writing in this. I will come up with something to bitch about as it comes to me. Today was just a friendly hello, and brace yourselves for future posts (all six of you reading this better hold on tight!)
Sex with chocolate sauce.
I'm back, big whoop. I remembered back to my New Years Post last year and decided to share it with Facebook again. I have a ton of little errands that need to be done right now, but I'd rather put them off by writing in this. I will come up with something to bitch about as it comes to me. Today was just a friendly hello, and brace yourselves for future posts (all six of you reading this better hold on tight!)
Sex with chocolate sauce.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Well, the world needs losers too.
Haha, hey me, whats up? I know I'm the only one reading this so I'll get right to the point.
Ran a Triathlon today. I sucked. I sucked hard. I was literally beaten by everyone besides an 83 year old man and a few older ladies. Even though I already know all this, I'm going to explain it like I actually have an audience. I'm not even mad that I lost honestly, However, it is a little deflating when an older chubby lady passes you on a bicycle and slowing edges ahead.
Luckily for me, I am not the go-getter type. I have no plans on making a Disney movies where the next 6 months can be summarized in a 2 minute montage of me training for the Nationals after discovering an old Chinese mentor. I'm more of the type to cross things off the list, and move the fuck on. If by chance/poor decision making skills I decide to do it again I will definiiltely need to learn how to swim, and get a better bicycle. Also, I don't care what anyone says, I'm taking meth next time. I think that sounds like a blast.
The whole concept of a race is funny to me. Hey, hurry as fast as you can right back to this very spot! Um, why wouldn't I just stay here? At least my body is willing and able to carry me the distance. I knew the second I showed up I was in a different league. I dropped about $100 on this whole shebang. Some peoples shoelaces cost that much. I definitely don't understand the appeal. I didn't even get my damn runners high!
I'll finish this later (aka never.)
People are weird.
Ran a Triathlon today. I sucked. I sucked hard. I was literally beaten by everyone besides an 83 year old man and a few older ladies. Even though I already know all this, I'm going to explain it like I actually have an audience. I'm not even mad that I lost honestly, However, it is a little deflating when an older chubby lady passes you on a bicycle and slowing edges ahead.
Luckily for me, I am not the go-getter type. I have no plans on making a Disney movies where the next 6 months can be summarized in a 2 minute montage of me training for the Nationals after discovering an old Chinese mentor. I'm more of the type to cross things off the list, and move the fuck on. If by chance/poor decision making skills I decide to do it again I will definiiltely need to learn how to swim, and get a better bicycle. Also, I don't care what anyone says, I'm taking meth next time. I think that sounds like a blast.
The whole concept of a race is funny to me. Hey, hurry as fast as you can right back to this very spot! Um, why wouldn't I just stay here? At least my body is willing and able to carry me the distance. I knew the second I showed up I was in a different league. I dropped about $100 on this whole shebang. Some peoples shoelaces cost that much. I definitely don't understand the appeal. I didn't even get my damn runners high!
I'll finish this later (aka never.)
People are weird.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Good Lord!
It's been forever, at least... that's how it feels. My sleeping schedule has been shot to high hell and I have nothing to do with my sad life. Fortunately, I leave for Cancun in less than 5 days, so that will/should be an incredible adventure! Other than that, just been watching my baby grow and occasionally spankin' ma monkey. I like to make sure he remembers who's still the boss around these parts.
Call me a Homosex if you wish, but I attempted a poem. I'dunno why, I just did. It is physically impossible for me to do poetry without it rhyming. Even slant rhyme hurts my bones. Without further adieu:
Fear
To fear death is too feel alive.
On this solitary rock, with only borrowed time.
To love, to hate. To live, to learn.
To decieve, to scheme. To cheat, to burn.
As memories grow and life begins,
our uncharted path filled with sin.
To feel alive one must trust.
For some haved lied and many use lust.
It is to say: "few have lived."
Yet it is only failure, that we forgive.
Memories swirl and seasons pass,
whether it be this day, or the last.
To fear death is to be alive.
As memories hold and wisdom thrives.
Youth eternal is without reason,
an everlasting spring, a neverending season.
For as we grow we come to see,
that we nothing without disease.
And to fear death is to feel alive.
History flows as the sands of time.
Memories fade and acceptance sweeps,
to cry is sin, and talk is cheap.
To fear death is to feel alive.
I defy fear for death is mine.
Call me a Homosex if you wish, but I attempted a poem. I'dunno why, I just did. It is physically impossible for me to do poetry without it rhyming. Even slant rhyme hurts my bones. Without further adieu:
Fear
To fear death is too feel alive.
On this solitary rock, with only borrowed time.
To love, to hate. To live, to learn.
To decieve, to scheme. To cheat, to burn.
As memories grow and life begins,
our uncharted path filled with sin.
To feel alive one must trust.
For some haved lied and many use lust.
It is to say: "few have lived."
Yet it is only failure, that we forgive.
Memories swirl and seasons pass,
whether it be this day, or the last.
To fear death is to be alive.
As memories hold and wisdom thrives.
Youth eternal is without reason,
an everlasting spring, a neverending season.
For as we grow we come to see,
that we nothing without disease.
And to fear death is to feel alive.
History flows as the sands of time.
Memories fade and acceptance sweeps,
to cry is sin, and talk is cheap.
To fear death is to feel alive.
I defy fear for death is mine.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Well...
Damn, has it already been two weeks since I've updated this?
I don't want to sound like this whole blog thing has fizzled out, but.... It has. I mean, I love writing in here, and I would do it everyday, but I just don't have the fanbase/eyeballs that it is worth my time. I'm sure I'll update long winded rants from time to time, when the thought arises. But it's simply the fact that I feel like I'm talking to myself on this god damn website. I'll stick with my journal entries, since that way I know I'm only talking to myself, it makes it a lot easier than pouring my thoughts, opinions, and time into a long winded rant that goes unseen by everyone. I appreciate you taking the time to read this, if you have.
-Rice
I don't want to sound like this whole blog thing has fizzled out, but.... It has. I mean, I love writing in here, and I would do it everyday, but I just don't have the fanbase/eyeballs that it is worth my time. I'm sure I'll update long winded rants from time to time, when the thought arises. But it's simply the fact that I feel like I'm talking to myself on this god damn website. I'll stick with my journal entries, since that way I know I'm only talking to myself, it makes it a lot easier than pouring my thoughts, opinions, and time into a long winded rant that goes unseen by everyone. I appreciate you taking the time to read this, if you have.
-Rice
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
For you, Reddit.
I made a post last night saying I would write a short story within the time frame of the blackout I know it only got like 6 upvotes, but I said I would do it, so, here I go.
Since the highest voted plot was only 2 votes between like three people, I just picked the one with the most flexibility. Here is the itinerary:
The rain was cold, but gentle enough that it didn’t damper the air around it. However, as January has been known to do, offered a wind that seemed to be a cold and harsh slap, reminding Malcolm who really was boss.
“I didn’t need my umbrella for this weather.” He mumbled as he made his way towards the heart of Downtown. The bank- Patriot USA was busier than usual, it seemed. People were spilling down the main entrance or hurrying in to view their finances. Or maybe I was pre occupied. What the hell was wrong with Bryan this morning? Normally he keeps to himself anyways, but today was just odd. I need to get away from these phones. It’s like everything is crashing down all at once. I need to get some air.
Since the highest voted plot was only 2 votes between like three people, I just picked the one with the most flexibility. Here is the itinerary:
morphite65 2 points 4 hours ago
Two men share an apartment. One day, man one comes home to find man two dead and a note on the door explaining that it was necessary. He proceeds to investigate the man's past, family, etc, to find out what really happened. He uncovers a secret much larger than he would have thought possible.
Cold Shoulder
"I'm getting so sick of this rain." Bryan muttered, peering through the blinds. His eyes were tracking the people out on the street below. There was a sense of paranoia, almost as if he was looking for someone. Waiting.
"Look man, it’s January, would you rather have snow?"
I feel like he isn't looking for much of a conversation. I noticed how the window pane fogged over as he scoffed at my response. I don't understand why he was acting so weird. I'm not sure if I should even say anything to him "Are you alright, man? Can I help you out with anything?" He remained unmoved, peering out, he moved to speak, yet stopped his lips before the words could form. What the hell is wrong with you?
As he peered out, he began to fidget with the buttons of his overcoat. Was he nervous about something? This is too weird, and besides, I have to get ready and be at work in 45 minutes, I don't have time for solving mysteries. I'll play Dr. Phil another day when I have more time than money. The only thing I noticed, as I got up and scraped what was left of my eggs and toast, is that he had still remained standing, staring, out down below. I wonder how long he would stand there anyways. Didn't he have to work today? God, I need to get my own house out in the country, I don't have the patience to deal with random people’s problems.
“I’m going to get ready for the day.” My announcement seemed to go unnoticed. I moved into the bathroom
“I’m going to get ready for the day.” My announcement seemed to go unnoticed. I moved into the bathroom
There he was, still standing there, in front of the window. I should just go over there and shake him. Make him snap out of this haze. I don't think he's on any drugs. Perhaps he's depressed. I'll look up the nearest shrink during lunch today. Hmm, it is raining out, I guess I'll wear my boots today. Alright, off to work, I’m going to be late if I decide to stick around any longer.
"Malcolm."
I froze. This had been the first word he had said since breakfast, I looked over at him quizzically. He still peered out the window, with his back to me. I've had enough of this silliness, this is just getting ridiculous. I should just speak my mind, when I heard Bryan begin to say something more. I noticed as his hands stopped fidgeting, and began to clench. He spoke to the glass, as If I wasn't even there. I couldn't even catch what he was saying. I've had enough of crazy talk. Finally, I caught what he muttered out. "I hate the rain."
I have had enough of this; I needed to get to work. "I'm leaving." I could have sworn I heard him sigh. If I was still at the table I’m sure i could have seen if the glass would have fogged over as he responded. No matter, I'll ask him what the hell was up when I get home tonight, anyways. Perhaps he was sleepwalking. I opened the door, and began my way out. "Don't forget your umbrella."
I'm running late. I don't have any more time for Bryan's shenanigans. I closed the door and made my way down the six flights of steps. Anything that Bryan needs will have to be dealt with later.
The rain was cold, but gentle enough that it didn’t damper the air around it. However, as January has been known to do, offered a wind that seemed to be a cold and harsh slap, reminding Malcolm who really was boss.
“I didn’t need my umbrella for this weather.” He mumbled as he made his way towards the heart of Downtown. The bank- Patriot USA was busier than usual, it seemed. People were spilling down the main entrance or hurrying in to view their finances. Or maybe I was pre occupied. What the hell was wrong with Bryan this morning? Normally he keeps to himself anyways, but today was just odd. I need to get away from these phones. It’s like everything is crashing down all at once. I need to get some air.
Walking back to the apartments, I wonder. I’ll just glance up too see if Bryan is still looking out. Hmm, the apartment light is on but at least Bryan finally moved away. I hope he’s in the mood to tell me what the hell was going on this morning.
“Hello?” Bryan”
Man where the hell is he? And why did he leave all of the lights on? The apartment was surprisingly clean. Maybe he was on drugs after all. But
“Hello?” Bryan”
Man where the hell is he? And why did he leave all of the lights on? The apartment was surprisingly clean. Maybe he was on drugs after all. But
Penguins.
Alright, I've had a few beers and I'm ready to get shieeeeeet crackin. Unfortunately, I have started writing this at 12:22am (time me). So there won't be many eyeballs to witness dis'.... However, I made the challenge, now it's time to uphold my end of the bargain. Also, Guinness beer is absolutely disgusting. Holy shit. Absolutely terrible.
Here is my synopsis (Thank you Miss Reavis)
Elizabeth Nowell, she's a high schooler at a rural high school in South fucking Dakota. She's been contemplating suicide for a while now due to her parents separating, the loss of her child, and a general un-popularity due to her ex-boyfriend who claimed Elizabeth had slept with everyone in the great Midwest.
"I didn't do it on purpose! Why will no one ever believe me? I hate you!" and with that note, the phone crashed down onto the receiver and immediately bounced off. I saw that Elizabeth remained still, fighting back tears. As the monotonous tone began to emit from the receiver, begging to be returned to its rightful home. I saw Elizabeth gently rocking back and forth, slightly hugging her knees, I'm sure she was wondering the the Hell else could possibly go wrong in her life. It was if God had found amusement in her misfortune. I guess I feel kind of sorry for her. I bet She wished she could blame God for her life, but blame wouldn't bring back what she had lost.
I can't exactly say I know the whole story, that's all I really know anyways. I have only been in the picture for a few months now. I had just moved here in August. Unfortunately, I have never had the chance to become accustom to the brutal and unforgiving winters Webster, South Dakota was known for. I almost felt sorry for everyone who had spent their whole lives in this God-forsaken town. But who was I to judge? I was right here with them. I had hated my Mother, bringing me here to literally the middle of absolutely-fucking-nowhere. To be with some man she had met on one of her "websites." Now I'm stuck to spend the rest of my days in what is essentially a village. It amazes me to this day that my own mother is so idiotic, that she would leave Arizona for this dump. Well, really, I couldn't care less what my mother does with her life, but the fact that she had to bring ME along is crazy. The guy she dropped everything for is named Larry. Can you fuckin' believe that? Larry, some bald headed French man, managed to find the only internet connection in all of South Dakota. And on top of that, wooed my mother into dropping everything and leaving for these "Great Plains."
So why am I telling you all of this? I guess I just need your advice. You've really been the only person I've found that I can talk to since I've been here. It's about Liz. I really don't think I can help her out at all, she needs an adult. Please, will you just talk to her? I feel like you're the only person she can trust. Thank you Mr. Smith, call me when everything is alright.
-~-~10 months ago~-~-
Jeez, what else can go wrong in my life? I swear it's like the world is seriously out to get me.
"Elizabeth!" I couldn't make out the rest of what my father was saying, but it seemed urgent.
"Elizabeth!" more mumbling. "Elizabeth Ann Nowell!" This must be serious. I checked the clock- 8:23am. Why did my Father need to wake me up on my sacred Saturday? God, I swear this better be important.
"Eliza-"
"Coming." Jeez, what the hell is the big deal that he needs me so much? It's bad enough I have to get out of bed early, hopefully nobody died or anything. Should I get dressed? Or just go down in Pj's? It seems to be important, I wonder what the hell my dad needs.My god, my stomach hurts so bad. Jeez, going down stairs seems so much more difficult when you're not awake.
"Morning Sunshine, how are you?" Well, there sat my father, at the edge of the table with his cheap laptop, as he did every morning. What on earth did he want to tell me that was so important?
"Dad if you woke me up just to say hello..."
"No! of course not," There goes my dad snickering again.
"What the hell is so funny?" Seriously, it's 8 am, I don't wan't to deal with this. I swear he was just sitting there to drive me crazy. Slowly lowering closing his laptop. If he knew I was coming then why would he be on it?
" I have to ask you something; and you have to be completely honest with me." He paused, seeing how I gave him a slight cock eye. "Promise?"
"Sure?" What the hell is this old man grinning for?
"How would you feel, about having a younger brother?"
-~-~-3 months later-~-~-~-
"Seriously Elizabeth, I need to use the bathroom." I swear if I have to pound on this door one more time I'm just going to break it down.
"Get the hell away from me Zach."
"Listen, there's only bathroom in this place, you can't have it for two whole hours."
"Leave me alone Zach. Go piss outside."
"I don't have to piss!"
That's it, I've had enough of this house. This town. This strange, short man. This crazy girl who I'm suppose to call my sister. I want my old life back. But more importantly, I want to take a shit. "Don't make me break down this door."
"Please go away."
And with a giant kick, the door broke open, splintering the wood.
"Get the Hell out-Oh my God."
"Logan!"
-~-~-2 years earlier-~-~-
"My, you look splendid, honey."
to be continued :P
Here is my synopsis (Thank you Miss Reavis)
Elizabeth Nowell, she's a high schooler at a rural high school in South fucking Dakota. She's been contemplating suicide for a while now due to her parents separating, the loss of her child, and a general un-popularity due to her ex-boyfriend who claimed Elizabeth had slept with everyone in the great Midwest.
The Little Blouse on the Prairie
"I didn't do it on purpose! Why will no one ever believe me? I hate you!" and with that note, the phone crashed down onto the receiver and immediately bounced off. I saw that Elizabeth remained still, fighting back tears. As the monotonous tone began to emit from the receiver, begging to be returned to its rightful home. I saw Elizabeth gently rocking back and forth, slightly hugging her knees, I'm sure she was wondering the the Hell else could possibly go wrong in her life. It was if God had found amusement in her misfortune. I guess I feel kind of sorry for her. I bet She wished she could blame God for her life, but blame wouldn't bring back what she had lost.
I can't exactly say I know the whole story, that's all I really know anyways. I have only been in the picture for a few months now. I had just moved here in August. Unfortunately, I have never had the chance to become accustom to the brutal and unforgiving winters Webster, South Dakota was known for. I almost felt sorry for everyone who had spent their whole lives in this God-forsaken town. But who was I to judge? I was right here with them. I had hated my Mother, bringing me here to literally the middle of absolutely-fucking-nowhere. To be with some man she had met on one of her "websites." Now I'm stuck to spend the rest of my days in what is essentially a village. It amazes me to this day that my own mother is so idiotic, that she would leave Arizona for this dump. Well, really, I couldn't care less what my mother does with her life, but the fact that she had to bring ME along is crazy. The guy she dropped everything for is named Larry. Can you fuckin' believe that? Larry, some bald headed French man, managed to find the only internet connection in all of South Dakota. And on top of that, wooed my mother into dropping everything and leaving for these "Great Plains."
So why am I telling you all of this? I guess I just need your advice. You've really been the only person I've found that I can talk to since I've been here. It's about Liz. I really don't think I can help her out at all, she needs an adult. Please, will you just talk to her? I feel like you're the only person she can trust. Thank you Mr. Smith, call me when everything is alright.
-~-~10 months ago~-~-
Jeez, what else can go wrong in my life? I swear it's like the world is seriously out to get me.
"Elizabeth!" I couldn't make out the rest of what my father was saying, but it seemed urgent.
"Elizabeth!" more mumbling. "Elizabeth Ann Nowell!" This must be serious. I checked the clock- 8:23am. Why did my Father need to wake me up on my sacred Saturday? God, I swear this better be important.
"Eliza-"
"Coming." Jeez, what the hell is the big deal that he needs me so much? It's bad enough I have to get out of bed early, hopefully nobody died or anything. Should I get dressed? Or just go down in Pj's? It seems to be important, I wonder what the hell my dad needs.My god, my stomach hurts so bad. Jeez, going down stairs seems so much more difficult when you're not awake.
"Morning Sunshine, how are you?" Well, there sat my father, at the edge of the table with his cheap laptop, as he did every morning. What on earth did he want to tell me that was so important?
"Dad if you woke me up just to say hello..."
"No! of course not," There goes my dad snickering again.
"What the hell is so funny?" Seriously, it's 8 am, I don't wan't to deal with this. I swear he was just sitting there to drive me crazy. Slowly lowering closing his laptop. If he knew I was coming then why would he be on it?
" I have to ask you something; and you have to be completely honest with me." He paused, seeing how I gave him a slight cock eye. "Promise?"
"Sure?" What the hell is this old man grinning for?
"How would you feel, about having a younger brother?"
-~-~-3 months later-~-~-~-
"Seriously Elizabeth, I need to use the bathroom." I swear if I have to pound on this door one more time I'm just going to break it down.
"Get the hell away from me Zach."
"Listen, there's only bathroom in this place, you can't have it for two whole hours."
"Leave me alone Zach. Go piss outside."
"I don't have to piss!"
That's it, I've had enough of this house. This town. This strange, short man. This crazy girl who I'm suppose to call my sister. I want my old life back. But more importantly, I want to take a shit. "Don't make me break down this door."
"Please go away."
And with a giant kick, the door broke open, splintering the wood.
"Get the Hell out-Oh my God."
"Logan!"
-~-~-2 years earlier-~-~-
"My, you look splendid, honey."
to be continued :P
Monday, January 16, 2012
Okay Mr. Gay
Ah la, la. I haven't written anything scandalous lately. I need something to bitch about. Hmmm, what's something I hate? Online Job Applications. Those fucking suck. Hmm, no, I can whine about that, but not for very long. Since I love to bitch about everyone else I've decided I am going to turn the tables and will whine about myself. Perhaps about how I am never going to be successful and how I will fail miserably at all of my dreams. My reasoning is very simple, if I suck as much as I say I do then I can say I told you so; and if and when I exceed my expectations, then that's just kickass. However, I am a person with realistic expectations and do not like to lie to myself. I am a firm believer in exceeding expectations, beatings goals, and accomplishing things. However, I am not one to be 'hopeful" in situations. It may have kept the Jews alive in Auschwitz, but it doesn't necessarily mean it's going to help me write a book.
Now, I am going to list the top 5 excuses that are "preventing" me from reaching where I want to be. They are in no particular order, or importance. In fact, they're just the first five things to come to my mind. Here they are now :
Also, adding the word motherfuckin' between anything instantly makes everything sound way more motherfuckin'cooler. I know what my next child's middle name is going to be ....
Now, I am going to list the top 5 excuses that are "preventing" me from reaching where I want to be. They are in no particular order, or importance. In fact, they're just the first five things to come to my mind. Here they are now :
- I am completely broke. As in, I could not sustain my life if I wasn't living at my Momma's (Love ya Mom). And if she goes, I may as well sleep on the streets. You can't have growth towards a goal if you can't meet basic life needs.
- I don't exactly know what the fuck I truly want. I'm 19. I don't know jack shit about anything. I listed earlier that I want to own a advertising agency, be a model, write a book, and make a sculpture. Well, I may as well tie a rope to each limb and quarter myself using a bunch of Horses. Everyone of those things would require effort in a different direction, and a LOT of attention.
- I am an entirely unfocused shit head. Yes, I probably have a.d.d (self diagnosed-so don't take me srysly) and can't pay attention to save my life. In the attempt to write this last sentence I have checked 3 different websites. I also lose a lot of shit, all the time. If I did get the opportunity to ask God one question at the Pearly Gates, I would without a doubt, ask him where the FUCK all of my stuff disappeared too. Seriously, does it just grow legs and walk away? Think of every single thing you've lost, where the hell has it gone? Blaaaaaah. I just lost a notebook with 4 months of Journal entries in it and I'm bitter.
- I am always tired. I blame puberty. But honestly, it makes me sad. I cannot stay awake for longer than 6 hours without needing a nap, and that's including a full nights sleep +1 hour usually. However, given the lack of structure in my life, it generally means that I am always awake at all hours of the day and night generally, except for 6am-10am. But how in the hell can I get 8 to 10 hours of sleep daily and still be tired all day? I'd invest in Coffee if it wasn't for #1.
- I am generally all around self destructive. Fortunately, within the last year or so. I dropped pretty much anything criminally related. Shit is whack, dawg. Really the only thing you can catch me doing every now and then is speeding or having alcohol in my bloodstream (Seriously how the fuck did it get in there? I don't know Officer, I swear I was sober a second ago.) And after 21 I join Alcoholics Unanimous and I get to sit back and laugh at all the 15 year old girls who puke after drinking Pucker and UV Blue. But besides crime, my entire life has been a constant state of one step forward, and five steps back.
There, feels good to vent. Those reasons above are why I am a loser. Thank you for reading, feel free to judge me anytime. Now what is the point of me writing right now? Am I going to come up with five ways on how I am going to redeem myself and become successful? No. Obviously. How the fuck can I give advice when I don't know exactly what is going to work? The solutions to my problems are pretty easy. Get a good job, work on one goal at a time, pay more attention/get a prescription to Adderall (Mmmm Meth.) Wake up and go to bed at the same time every night. And stop being stupid and make good choices. Seems fairly simple, right? Yeah, I'll start doing those just as easily as you could start flossing everyday.
Here's what I can say for sure, that the rough motherfuckin' draft of my story will get done. They say that loose lips sink ships, and that may be correct, but I don't care, it sounds good to say out loud. I also said in one of my first posts about not bitching about something and to just do it. So, there it is. This rough motherfuckin' draft will be done well, and it will be motherfuckin' beautiful. I know what I need to do from here, so you just sit back, and enjoy whatever I decide to bitch about tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that. Meanwhile, I'll figure my shit out, and will do my best to entertain you motherfuckin' children.
Here's what I can say for sure, that the rough motherfuckin' draft of my story will get done. They say that loose lips sink ships, and that may be correct, but I don't care, it sounds good to say out loud. I also said in one of my first posts about not bitching about something and to just do it. So, there it is. This rough motherfuckin' draft will be done well, and it will be motherfuckin' beautiful. I know what I need to do from here, so you just sit back, and enjoy whatever I decide to bitch about tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that. Meanwhile, I'll figure my shit out, and will do my best to entertain you motherfuckin' children.
Also, adding the word motherfuckin' between anything instantly makes everything sound way more motherfuckin'cooler. I know what my next child's middle name is going to be ....
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Gotta Get Down
It's Friday Children, and guess what?
I want to consume Alcohol.
Unfortunately, I am only 20 years old. So I do not have the pleasure of inebriation. I will probably just stay at home, where it is safe, and learn how to knit sweaters.
So, on that note. I bid you guys farewell, have a safe Friday Night. And I'll be sure to write something longer tomorrow.
Peace Niggle.
I want to consume Alcohol.
Unfortunately, I am only 20 years old. So I do not have the pleasure of inebriation. I will probably just stay at home, where it is safe, and learn how to knit sweaters.
So, on that note. I bid you guys farewell, have a safe Friday Night. And I'll be sure to write something longer tomorrow.
Peace Niggle.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Yes Sir
Another day utterly and completely wasted. I spent a few hours playing King's Korners with a couple of gals at the Old folks home. They are fine to be around. They really don't have the energy to talk and tell me all the super cool awesome stories that I was hoping for when I originally agreed to Volunteer. But fuck it, they've lived through the wars, they don't have to do shit for me. I did laugh at a few things they said. I told them I didn't like decaf coffee and preferred regular. Norma got all wide-eyed and shocked "Oh. so you like getting high." if caffeine is high, then I have some stories for you, Norma.
There are no pretty people in my classes. None of em (if you read this, and you're in one of my classes, I'm lying.) Which makes for a difficult semester when you're a spacey daydreamin' a.d.d. student like myself. But alas, that is why God gave men imaginations, and women breasts. Don't worry fellow classmates, I will find a way to sexualize you some how. In fact, I enjoy the challenge. But usually one pretty woman helps when my brain is frazzled and I need something to help me get through.
Yes women, we want to do nasty things to you. Dirty, horrible things. Things that your father did to your mother which accidentally made you. If you have brothers and/or sisters then yo daddy is freak nastay, or just an idiot who makes the same mistake twice. It doesn't matter who you are, how big you are, what you look, smell or taste like. We will consider it. The only obstacle standing in your way is the amount of time were willing to invest in the endeavor. I don't really enjoy saying this, but it needs to be said.
Any Woman on this Earth Can Get Laid
And I do mean any. Any woman out there can have a penis available at any given time. I don't care if you weigh 600 lbs and you're baking green-and-cheesy bread down there. Some man, out there, will put his penis in you (in fact, probably more than one man is willing and able.) This is a fact realized about 6th grade for most girls, so I'm already preaching to the choir. And such is the game that is played since that awful time known as puberty. A person who can score a lot makes a great player, a person who gets scored on a lot makes a shitty goalie. It's unfair, I know. But at least it's awesome from my stand point.
I think all you women are whores, it's just to what degree. I also think all men are losers, just to what degree. So bear that in mind for the next few pieces I am about to write about. First things first...
Being a Whore is a Beautiful Thing
According to Merriam-Websters dictionary a Whore is a:
The World Needs Whores
Why? Because without you women, we would still be sitting in caves touching ourselves ceaselessly (which doesn't sound like a bad gig, actually.) Why do you think Man discovered fire? Too fuck bitches. Why do you think he invented the car? Too fuck bitches. Why do you think man went to the moon? Too fuck bitches. Have you noticed a trend here? Every single thing we do has one goal. To put our penis in your pee hole. Why do we eat? To stay alive long enough to fuck you.
Why do men have power? Because you women sold it too us. And generally speaking, men use power to either: Fuck bitches, make it easier for him to fuck bitches; or lastly, make it harder for other men to fuck bitches. I hope this doesn't paint us in a bad light. Maybe it makes me a bad person. Go run and find your "nice guy" to tell all your vagina related issues with. He'll listen, either because:
A.He want's you to think he's nice because then maybe you'll let him have sex with you (listen to me when I tell you guys this, she won't.)
Or B. He too, has a Vagina himself. And since women already have a vagina, why would they want you? Since he's too scared to defy your powers, he has renounced his man card and can rightfully be called a pussy. I guess if ya can't beat em, join em.
You want to know who I envy?
Gay Men
They have won the game, I'm afraid. they are free from the shackles of female empowerment. While I'm sure they have their own issues to deal with, the main one being Aids. They are free by societies standards to do whatever the fuck they want. It must be an incredible relief to be able to float down the river in peace, rather than fervently trying to race up stream, wasting your entire life and energy for some stupid goal, just to be eaten by a bear.
Oh, and I almost forgot to ask... you look nice, wanna fuck?
There are no pretty people in my classes. None of em (if you read this, and you're in one of my classes, I'm lying.) Which makes for a difficult semester when you're a spacey daydreamin' a.d.d. student like myself. But alas, that is why God gave men imaginations, and women breasts. Don't worry fellow classmates, I will find a way to sexualize you some how. In fact, I enjoy the challenge. But usually one pretty woman helps when my brain is frazzled and I need something to help me get through.
Yes women, we want to do nasty things to you. Dirty, horrible things. Things that your father did to your mother which accidentally made you. If you have brothers and/or sisters then yo daddy is freak nastay, or just an idiot who makes the same mistake twice. It doesn't matter who you are, how big you are, what you look, smell or taste like. We will consider it. The only obstacle standing in your way is the amount of time were willing to invest in the endeavor. I don't really enjoy saying this, but it needs to be said.
Any Woman on this Earth Can Get Laid
And I do mean any. Any woman out there can have a penis available at any given time. I don't care if you weigh 600 lbs and you're baking green-and-cheesy bread down there. Some man, out there, will put his penis in you (in fact, probably more than one man is willing and able.) This is a fact realized about 6th grade for most girls, so I'm already preaching to the choir. And such is the game that is played since that awful time known as puberty. A person who can score a lot makes a great player, a person who gets scored on a lot makes a shitty goalie. It's unfair, I know. But at least it's awesome from my stand point.
I think all you women are whores, it's just to what degree. I also think all men are losers, just to what degree. So bear that in mind for the next few pieces I am about to write about. First things first...
Being a Whore is a Beautiful Thing
According to Merriam-Websters dictionary a Whore is a:
1: a woman who engages in sexual acts for money : prostitute; also : a promiscuous or immoral woman
2: a male who engages in sexual acts for money
3: a venal or unscrupulous person
This is the standard definition of the word whore. In contemporary language a Whore is someone who will have sex with anyone but YOU. There is a big difference. When I made my previous bold statement about how being a whore is beautiful was simply stated, and I will explain why I feel that way. It is incredible to me that an omnipotent, all-knowing and all-powerful God would entrust the holiest of holy- the Vagina, to Whores.
With great power comes great responsibility. And unfortunately (or awesomely), you women SUCK at managing it. The world should be dominated by Women.You Ladies have something we want (I'll give ya a hint, it starts with a p and ends in ussy.) and here's where you bitches fucked up. You women Sell the ultimate power of the universe, and you sell it very cheaply. Every woman has a price, some need diamond rings, others need 6 shots of Hennessy, and some just need to hear "I love you." and their legs settle their differences and go their separate ways. And that's were you guys decided to degrade yourself as lesser beings. If you women would just Unionize and refuse to give what ya got, the world would crumble at your feet instantly.
This is the standard definition of the word whore. In contemporary language a Whore is someone who will have sex with anyone but YOU. There is a big difference. When I made my previous bold statement about how being a whore is beautiful was simply stated, and I will explain why I feel that way. It is incredible to me that an omnipotent, all-knowing and all-powerful God would entrust the holiest of holy- the Vagina, to Whores.
With great power comes great responsibility. And unfortunately (or awesomely), you women SUCK at managing it. The world should be dominated by Women.You Ladies have something we want (I'll give ya a hint, it starts with a p and ends in ussy.) and here's where you bitches fucked up. You women Sell the ultimate power of the universe, and you sell it very cheaply. Every woman has a price, some need diamond rings, others need 6 shots of Hennessy, and some just need to hear "I love you." and their legs settle their differences and go their separate ways. And that's were you guys decided to degrade yourself as lesser beings. If you women would just Unionize and refuse to give what ya got, the world would crumble at your feet instantly.
I know Beyoncé is out there singing "Who Run da' World?" but shes only lying to herself, and her fellow females. You don't run the world. You may run the relationship (Men are losers, remember?) And you may even dominate certain areas of society by incredible margins. But power? Get the fuck out of here, there's sandwiches to be made. Call me sexist if you'd like, but I bet you can't prove me wrong.
I know, I know. hear all you bitches menstrual cycles syncing up, ready to blast my ass. I'm misogynistic now because I don't understand your struggles. Boohoo. Now I do understand very clearly about #2 of the definition of the world whore. That is correct, men can get paid for sexual intercourse just as much as you whores can. But there is a difference. All men have already lost the game of life. Did you hear that women? Men. Are. Losers. The second were born were given our mission- get the fuck off the planet and go die. Were sperm bullets if were lucky. Bang. So long and thanks for all the blowjobs. A woman gets paid every time she has sex (whether it's dinner, gifts, a wedding ring, dates, anything at all.) Of course, a man can get paid for intercourse, but it a a fraction of a return on his never ending investment to fuck bitches. You women are slot machines (hehe). We might think were winning every now and then, but truly, the house always win.
So why is it beautiful? Because I imagine having a cunt fucking sucks. I personally don't want to deal with anything associated with having to maintain one from age 12 to 55. And it's a blessing that I get to be a comfortable loser, chasing the Pink Dragon until it kills me, in relative comfort and sanity. And if men had vaginas, they would just be women, and who want's to be that? It is beautiful, to me at least, that you women answer the call that your god gave you when you were thrusted from your own mothers vajayjay, and deal with the life given to you. Although, I wish I could say you Women did it without complaint.
I know, I know. hear all you bitches menstrual cycles syncing up, ready to blast my ass. I'm misogynistic now because I don't understand your struggles. Boohoo. Now I do understand very clearly about #2 of the definition of the world whore. That is correct, men can get paid for sexual intercourse just as much as you whores can. But there is a difference. All men have already lost the game of life. Did you hear that women? Men. Are. Losers. The second were born were given our mission- get the fuck off the planet and go die. Were sperm bullets if were lucky. Bang. So long and thanks for all the blowjobs. A woman gets paid every time she has sex (whether it's dinner, gifts, a wedding ring, dates, anything at all.) Of course, a man can get paid for intercourse, but it a a fraction of a return on his never ending investment to fuck bitches. You women are slot machines (hehe). We might think were winning every now and then, but truly, the house always win.
So why is it beautiful? Because I imagine having a cunt fucking sucks. I personally don't want to deal with anything associated with having to maintain one from age 12 to 55. And it's a blessing that I get to be a comfortable loser, chasing the Pink Dragon until it kills me, in relative comfort and sanity. And if men had vaginas, they would just be women, and who want's to be that? It is beautiful, to me at least, that you women answer the call that your god gave you when you were thrusted from your own mothers vajayjay, and deal with the life given to you. Although, I wish I could say you Women did it without complaint.
The World Needs Whores
Why? Because without you women, we would still be sitting in caves touching ourselves ceaselessly (which doesn't sound like a bad gig, actually.) Why do you think Man discovered fire? Too fuck bitches. Why do you think he invented the car? Too fuck bitches. Why do you think man went to the moon? Too fuck bitches. Have you noticed a trend here? Every single thing we do has one goal. To put our penis in your pee hole. Why do we eat? To stay alive long enough to fuck you.
Why do men have power? Because you women sold it too us. And generally speaking, men use power to either: Fuck bitches, make it easier for him to fuck bitches; or lastly, make it harder for other men to fuck bitches. I hope this doesn't paint us in a bad light. Maybe it makes me a bad person. Go run and find your "nice guy" to tell all your vagina related issues with. He'll listen, either because:
A.He want's you to think he's nice because then maybe you'll let him have sex with you (listen to me when I tell you guys this, she won't.)
Or B. He too, has a Vagina himself. And since women already have a vagina, why would they want you? Since he's too scared to defy your powers, he has renounced his man card and can rightfully be called a pussy. I guess if ya can't beat em, join em.
You want to know who I envy?
Gay Men
They have won the game, I'm afraid. they are free from the shackles of female empowerment. While I'm sure they have their own issues to deal with, the main one being Aids. They are free by societies standards to do whatever the fuck they want. It must be an incredible relief to be able to float down the river in peace, rather than fervently trying to race up stream, wasting your entire life and energy for some stupid goal, just to be eaten by a bear.
Oh, and I almost forgot to ask... you look nice, wanna fuck?
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Back to school
Oh back to school, to prove to Dad I'm not a fool. I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don't get in a fight. Back in Night Classes- I got denied financial aid this semester (Didn't deserve it anyways.) So we'll see how long I last before I get kicked out. All in all, it will cost about $5000 for me to be here. I have zero dollars to my name (I actually wish I had ZERO- I have less than zero, actually. It makes me sad.) So college? Doubtful. But I'm here now, and I'm going to make the best of the 3 times I go.
The man across from me is a Mouth Breather. Wet, and slight vibrato emanates from his mouth-hole about every two seconds. I wish to inflict pain on his face. It's like he's snoring while on his laptop. I hate you- Mouth Man. I hope that when you read this you try to breath at the bottom of the bath tub. I need to focus on more positive things, I seem to dislike a lot of- well, everything.
One thing is for sure, College is the worlds greatest Hustle. So far I am 5k in debt. What do I have to show for it? Absolutely nothing. What have I learned? Absolutely nothing. Nothing. And I mean this in a nice way, I love learning. I went to class faithfully and did what I needed to do for the most part. These classes of "Higher" learning are so god damn stupid that they make me want to burn the goddamn building down. I had a composition class taught by a Grad Student who was 5 years older than me. She was a nervous wreck every time she had to speak in front of the class. Nervous. And she wanted to either become an English Teacher, or a Librarian.
Bitch Please.
Here's what pisses me off. Each class costs generally about $800 to take. 800 goddamn dollars. Fuck. It costs me equivalent of $50 every time I go to class (I go once a week). And what for? Shoe Tying 101? It will be about 12k in before I even start on my major. Fuck you College. At least spit on me and call me a dirty girl if you're just going to Fuck me in the ass. I bet you if you had to give your professor $50 bucks after every lecture you'd say fuck this and become an Alcoholic just like the rest of us (some do already!).
I'm not going to rant anymore, but if you say part of the price of College is the experience, and attend any school in the Midwestern region. Go to your nearest bathroom, and makeout with the closest razor blade you can find.
Thank you.
The man across from me is a Mouth Breather. Wet, and slight vibrato emanates from his mouth-hole about every two seconds. I wish to inflict pain on his face. It's like he's snoring while on his laptop. I hate you- Mouth Man. I hope that when you read this you try to breath at the bottom of the bath tub. I need to focus on more positive things, I seem to dislike a lot of- well, everything.
One thing is for sure, College is the worlds greatest Hustle. So far I am 5k in debt. What do I have to show for it? Absolutely nothing. What have I learned? Absolutely nothing. Nothing. And I mean this in a nice way, I love learning. I went to class faithfully and did what I needed to do for the most part. These classes of "Higher" learning are so god damn stupid that they make me want to burn the goddamn building down. I had a composition class taught by a Grad Student who was 5 years older than me. She was a nervous wreck every time she had to speak in front of the class. Nervous. And she wanted to either become an English Teacher, or a Librarian.
Bitch Please.
Here's what pisses me off. Each class costs generally about $800 to take. 800 goddamn dollars. Fuck. It costs me equivalent of $50 every time I go to class (I go once a week). And what for? Shoe Tying 101? It will be about 12k in before I even start on my major. Fuck you College. At least spit on me and call me a dirty girl if you're just going to Fuck me in the ass. I bet you if you had to give your professor $50 bucks after every lecture you'd say fuck this and become an Alcoholic just like the rest of us (some do already!).
I'm not going to rant anymore, but if you say part of the price of College is the experience, and attend any school in the Midwestern region. Go to your nearest bathroom, and makeout with the closest razor blade you can find.
Thank you.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Hayyy
New post, a tad late tonight.
Hopefully the ball keeps rolling and more and more people have a chance to see this. Besides being a good place for me to work on my writing I tend to get bored with things and move on from them. See, I just got distracted now for a good 15 minutes. I had an interesting day today, took a bunch of fancy smancy foedoes for http://605magazine.com/ . And it was good. I wore a $1000 dollar outfit that could be found with pretty easily with enough time dinkin' around the Goodwill.
See, another 10 minutes distracted on words with friend. Bleh- I don't know why they call it that anyways. I usually end up screaming at the dang game. I've played against my younger sister 5 times. Guess how many times I've one. Zip (15 points.) Makes me sad really, but I digress. It's taken me 20 minutes to write this far.
I hate white meat (unless it's on a woman.) I hate it. I made a pack of chicken breasts since It was all that was left. And it's the equivalent of eating meat paper. I don't care if it is possible to moisten a breast. They fucking suck. Do you like your Vagina dry and unflavored as well? Thighs and Legs all day! Really I do love chicken though, it is my favorite stereotype for a reason. It is a magical creature that has kept me alive for many summers with grill outs. I love you Chicken. And do know I feel bad every time I eat an omelette with chicken in it. I feel a little greedy.
I'm tired, I'm wasting my time writing on this. Goodnight.
Hopefully the ball keeps rolling and more and more people have a chance to see this. Besides being a good place for me to work on my writing I tend to get bored with things and move on from them. See, I just got distracted now for a good 15 minutes. I had an interesting day today, took a bunch of fancy smancy foedoes for http://605magazine.com/ . And it was good. I wore a $1000 dollar outfit that could be found with pretty easily with enough time dinkin' around the Goodwill.
See, another 10 minutes distracted on words with friend. Bleh- I don't know why they call it that anyways. I usually end up screaming at the dang game. I've played against my younger sister 5 times. Guess how many times I've one. Zip (15 points.) Makes me sad really, but I digress. It's taken me 20 minutes to write this far.
I hate white meat (unless it's on a woman.) I hate it. I made a pack of chicken breasts since It was all that was left. And it's the equivalent of eating meat paper. I don't care if it is possible to moisten a breast. They fucking suck. Do you like your Vagina dry and unflavored as well? Thighs and Legs all day! Really I do love chicken though, it is my favorite stereotype for a reason. It is a magical creature that has kept me alive for many summers with grill outs. I love you Chicken. And do know I feel bad every time I eat an omelette with chicken in it. I feel a little greedy.
I'm tired, I'm wasting my time writing on this. Goodnight.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Writing a Short Story is a Long Process.
Here it is- Rough Draft (1-8-12) Revised (1-12-12)
Inspired by this song:
Somebody That I Used to Know-Goyte
and Don't Leave Me-Blackstreet (less of this song, however.)
Lost Emeralds
You know man, you really shouldn’t drink this much. You’re going to hurt yourself. How about we go upstairs and walk around for a little bit? Maybe you can clear your thoughts. Good, walk around for a little bit. Try and find your sea legs. I just don't want you to do this to yourself. You're better than this.
"What about it? You just become my Guardian Angel out of nowhere or what? I didn't know I had a Sponsor now. You should have tried to save her instead."
Look, can’t we talk about something else? I know what’s on your mind. Just relax. Put the vodka down Man. Just sit on the couch and check out some ‘toons, okay? Yes, the brown couch in the living room. You’ll be okay, I promise. Just sit down, and relax. Dude, will you just listen to me? I swear alcohol turns you into a mound of spaghetti. Just sit down. Sit down. Sit. There, finally. Jesus, talking to you is harder than talking to my Mother, and she died in 98’.
"Fuckin Couch."
Look man, it’s just a couch. Who cares? Just try to sleep, burn that cheap vodka off. You’re making me dizzy just looking at you. Blubbering fool. Look at you, a grown man crying. It’s a damn shame really; your eyes are so red. If you stared at a mirror you would surely could see some Demons, or maybe only your reflection. It can’t be that bad man. Just stay on the couch. In a few minutes I’ll let you go get some bread. Just try and get the spins to stop man, I hate feeling like I am in a washing machine. You know I hate it, yet you won’t listen to me no matter what I tell you. Shit, if you would have listened to me in the first place, you wouldn’t be here, sobbing like a little school girl. Put the bottle down. Goddamnit. Why don’t you ever listen to me?
"Because you're an asshole and I hate you. I bet this Vodka will shut you up."
Okay, so you’re drunk. We get that. You wish you could do it all over again. I get that. You can’t man. You gotta deal with what’s happened. Shit, you’ve got another 60 years of this miserable existence if you’re lucky. Oh, still crying? C’mon man it was just a joke. Look, let’s just reflect on the good? Surely we can cherish it? C’mon, please; just think about it, it will be fun, I promise.
"I really don't want to talk about it. Last summer..."
My God, was it last only last summer? Really, just this past year-- damn, time really does fly man. I can’t believe how fast it has gone by. Things have changed a little bit haven’t they? That sure was a perfect summer. Man, remember that barbeque. The sizzling steak- Ribeye, right? So juicy. You didn't even have to chew it, it was so tender. Remember how long you spent marinating it? I don’t think anyone was expecting something so delicious. I know I sure wasn’t. And that grilled cinnamon-sugar pineapple?
"Incredible."
I know, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Although, it does remind me of her. That was a pretty cool way to make a first impression, I must admit. You could tell the second it hit her soft lips and those emerald eyes widened and smiled I knew that things were going to be good after all. How in the hell could we both think the same thing at the same time? It was incredible, that smile. Those eyes, I wish you could see your face right now. Grinnin’ just thinking about her. You goof. I don’t remember when she left, but I know you had to see her again. Shit, I wanted to see her again.
"Please, stop talking about her."
Not until I get to the bottom of this, otherwise it will drive me crazy. See, this is what eats me alive… How in the Hell did you two hit it off? I can’t remember. I blame the Vodka. I know she came over with Derek, as soon as you mention ‘food’ and ‘free’ within a few sentences he’s bound to show up. And I know she was friends with Lacey- Loose Lacey. But I don’t remember the second, the third time you guys were together. Put the damn bottle down man. I need to think.
"I wish you would just go away; leave me alone."
I can't, not yet man, were getting close, I can feel it. Life was good, I remember that. So good. You remember when you came home after a late night at work? She was already there, waiting for you. At least, she was hanging out with Kurt, oh yeah, her cousin was in town. Kelly, Ah yes- that was her name. Cute girl, that family had a good bloodline, I swear. She was introducing them to your housemates, I remember now. Kurt, Jackson, and you. Life was good. They were having a blast, Jackson was feeling flirty with Kelly after a few drinks, and perhaps you should have made a move as well? You left, had to go somewhere important. Where the fuck did you have to go at 2 in the morning that was so important? Fuck you vodka. Fuck you. I want to remember. You left, and unbeknownst to you, Kurt seized the opportunity. He knew, she knew; and yet, they still did.
On your couch.
Look man, this is supposed to be positive, just relax. Put the vodka down, you already drank most of it, and you’re a wreck. You didn’t know man, you still loved her. You still do. Why? Why you do you still love her? I know why. When you saw her hair twirl as she turned to face you, hearing your voice. That smile. That feeling as the world stopped and you knew everything was going to be alright. Look into those green eyes. Enchanting. How they burned through you. Melted you.
"You don't know anything about how I felt. It was not like that. You don't know."
I was there, I know. I was there at every point. Haha, remember your first kiss? It was almost juvenile. I knew then that you loved her. You were scared to kiss her. How, of all people, were you scared to kiss a girl? You have never been nervous around women, and here you are. Sitting in your room with Johnny and Laura-Love birds in a world of their own, listening to their lovely advice on how to make the move. Laura was constantly berating you, clearly making fun of you; which, to be fair, was well deserved.
“Just kiss her man, she’s right there on the couch.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t? Just do it.”
“I ca-“
“Just do it, before I kick your ass.” Ah Laura, she couldn't have been more than five feet tall, basically an illegal midget, meant every word behind that statement. Cheeky girl. She has a kid now. Crazy huh?
"Why are you reminding me? I know what I said. I know what she said. Just shut up. Shut up."
Look, I'm telling it how I remember it. This alcohol is starting to make it all fuzzy anyways. I’m just glad you finally grew the cojones man, I was getting impatient. I remember when you left John and Laura to themselves, specifying that there was to be no fluids exchanged while in your bedroom, or you would kick their ass in return. Laura, and her cocky self, called you a puss and was anxiously waiting for you to make your move. That's when you headed upstairs and entered the living room, Jesus there was a lot of people there.
"Yes, it was Jackson's Birthday."
I'm trying to figure out the story man. Let me finish. Where was I? Oh yeah, sure enough, she’s sitting on the couch, eagerly looking at you to join her in discussion. Why were you nervous? Just do it man. You motion and mouth the words “Come here.” She popped up instantly. “I have to tell you a secret, follow me.” You went into Kurt’s nasty room. Immediately regretting the decision since the atmosphere now smelled of sweaty socks and stale pot. This is no place to do it. But there she was, standing. Looking eagerly to what secret awaits her. It was now or never- do or die. I can’t believe you were actually shaking! With a quick motion, you embrace her. And in that glorious moment, your lips connect. As you meet you lose sense of yourself-you don’t know where you end and she begins, nor do you care. It was more incredible than any drug, and as she folded into you, the world paused for a moment. Long enough for you to know; know you loved her.
"Sounds about right."
So why did you cheat on her? Yes asshole, I’m talking to you. Taking a swig of your nasty fucking drink isn’t a good answer. Why, if loved her so much, did you cheat? Why did you ruin something that made you so happy? C’mon dude, staring at the hole in the armrest isn’t getting us anywhere. I still do not know why and I want an answer. Shall we continue down memory lane? Or are you going to puke? I want answers and you haven’t given me something satisfactory.
"I don't want to think about it. Please stop."
Well I do. And we're already this far in. So let’s go through the facts, shall we? You Cheated on her on August 31st. You ruined your perfect summer, with someone who meant nothing to you. You went to see Johnny and Laura the first day back at college and you met some dumb broad with big tits and slippery legs. Did fireworks go off every time you kissed that girl as well? There you go, crying again. Knock it off. Let us carry on, this is getting us nowhere.
"Please."
No, I won't stop. I need to know. I need to know why. I made you tell her, I couldn’t let you lie to those precious green eyes. Besides, if I wouldn’t have made you, Laura would have. There you are, back on your hideous brown couch, crying your eyes out like you are right now. To her. On your disgusting couch. You cheated on her your fucking prick. And you wonder why there was tension? I know how much it hurts, or at least what hurt the most.
She forgave you.
And she did, she truly did. You bastard. That was love right there. The relationship continued, but it was not the same. It did not--could not last. It was a spear into the beasts heart, and you were the one who threw it. But alas, it did not die instantly. God it was so painful, even thinking about it now. You fucked up big time man. In fact, take another drink, I’ll allow it this time.
"I think I'm gonna puke."
Whoa there Cowboy, It's finally catching up to you huh?. Just stay with me a little longer. But if you gotta puke, try not to get it on the Couch. Don't puke, yet. let me finish, I feel like we are so close. Remember back during Labor Day Weekend, camping on the lake? You couldn't have asked for better weather. You said something corny to her father, what did you say again?
“Must have bribed the Weather Man.”
You cheesy bastard. But it really was perfect. I remember soaking my skin in the sun, her head on our chest, finally at peace. It was blissful, elegant. You forgotten the arguments and fighting and could finally enjoy each other’s company. You played with younger kids on the beach and ate well, sharing stories of the past summer and how excited you were for the next one. Then sun was heading to bed when you decided to take a walk to the pier. Good thing I told you to bring her with, moments like these are meant to be shared, and remembered. As you sat on the pier of and watched as the stars emerged. The water was gently lapping against the beach. It was calm, so very calm. And I know that it was when the Milky Way made its way into your vision, that this was beauty; God, even. This was perhaps the most beautiful moment you have ever witnessed, but the feeling was not shared. You looked at her as she seems uninterested, a moment you thought was more beautiful than anything else you have ever experienced and she was bored. It was then, at that moment. When I finally knew...
Knew the beast was finally dead.
Why do you care still man? Why did you decide to lose your mind over her green eyes? There were other women out there. You shouldn’t have left her the flower. A stupid flower won’t magically make things better. Leaving it on her doorstep, you didn’t even have the balls to properly give it back to her. Accept fate already. Let it go. You can’t be friends. The necklace. She won’t be friends. Emerald, sparkling amongst the silver pendant. She can’t be friends. She can’t keep the necklace. The necklace was worth a fortune, given the emerald, which was identical to the two she used to make you fall in love with her. Spent a month working for that necklace, her gift for being the woman you loved. If you wouldn’t have cheated on her, I’m sure she would have cried, it was so incredible. I remember helping you pick it out, god what a flawless stone. It was so beautiful, yet she refused to accept it. I still wish you wouldn’t have thrown it in front of her, that money could have been useful.
"I don't want to live anymore. I need some-hiccup-one."
No, you don't want to kill yourself man. It's just the alcohol talking, making you feel down. You're man enough to face this. Besides, things really settled down from there anyways. Ah, but do you remember the end of December? That party? Worst night of your life, according to you. I personally think it wasn’t all that bad, but I understand I suppose. How many people do you think you had in your house? 100? It seemed like everyone that was anyone was there. All were welcome, to celebrate one last time. Except, who decides to make an appearance? Her. With Kurt.
"Fuck Kurt."
He should have known better, I'm glad he had moved out well before you caught wind of what he did. Moved to a different state. It was probably good for his health. I think was the only thing that kept him alive after you found out. And here he was, back in your house. With the girl you used to love. The girl you cheated on. You know this was a ploy to piss you off, right? I remember you Saying "Goddamnit, this is my house, and my party. I'm going to have a good time." Yet how is it, the girl you used to love is standing across the room from you. So close but impossibly distant. Sitting on a couch with someone you considered a friend. Fuck that couch, you ought to burn it.
hiccup
Anger bubbles and your fists clench. You leave your own party. You walk down the street to try and clear your mind from the alcohol and anger. Why do you care so much? You cheated on her. Slept with someone else. Move on. You punch a tree. The tree wins. It takes Jackson and two other men to try to bring you back in. You’ll get the cops called. If you wouldn’t have listened to me you probably would still be out there. You stupid idiot.
I remember seeing you in the reflection of the window as you went back into your house, party in full swing. Your face red and puffy, want nothing to do with it anyone there. You go downstairs and sit in your room. The best party in town is going on upstairs in your house. Yet you sat there, crying. Somewhere out there is a song written about you. Why are you crying? Alcohol? You’re hurt? How does it feel when you cheated on her? Got some random girl you’ve never met before pregnant. And for what? The girl you love is here. At this very party. At your house. Kissing your old friend, surely. The friend she fucked on your couch. Before you even knew you loved her. Why do you even care?
"Stop talking."
You reach for your phone. How did your vision blur so much? You can’t read the texts . You stop. You see her name. Your heart drops, why did she try to talk to you? She seemed content kissing Kurt earlier. The friend you knew was being used to make you mad. You still hated him regardless. Why does she want to know where you are? You cheated on her. She shouldn’t care. You attempted to text her back, but you’re too drunk. You fucking idiot. If you hadn’t have drank you could send her a coherent message. You were "Donswstaaiwrs.” You fool. That’s not how you fucking spell it. Of course you cheated on her. You can’t even spell downstairs correctly. You should have told her you were dead.
"Stop."
No, I'm not finished with you yet. You were sitting on the edge of the bed. Drunk. Stupid. And then, there she is. But why? Why is she here? Why is she telling you she wants to make it work? She misses you? Why are you crying in front of the girl you cheated on? Why has she moved closer? Why were your cheeks brushing? She kissed you, you sad sonova’ Bitch. And you kissed back. The world whirls. The alcohol has hit with full force. You kissed her back a little hard don’t you think? She didn’t seem to mind. She going for more, your mouth doesn’t satisfy her. She is now the beast, going for your neck. And you’re glad to be relieved of the pain. She’s wearing the necklace. You lay back. She continues, not satisfied with your neck. Suddenly it all seemed as if the roller coaster has looped. Dizzy. How have you gone from happy, to angry, to sad, to this? It’s too much. Fortunately. A pound at the door stops her from getting anything more. You stupidly dress yourself. Relieved for a moment to finally be able breathe.
“Yeah?”
“I’m ready to leave.”
It was Lacey, that whore. She was here to take her away just as thing’s had started to turn around. As she leaves she grabs your hand. She’s not finished with you? You make your way out, you leave your own party-it’s Jacksons problem now. You make your way back to her house. And I make you tell her. I’m sorry. I really am. Please put the bottle down, there’s only a swig left,anyways. I couldn’t let you lie to the woman you loved, not with your necklace on. And you tell her. She says nothing, but as she grabs your hand, you are oblivious to the pain from losing to the tree earlier. It hurts more feeling the guilt of grabbing it back. Don't lie to me, I know it did.You made it to her house more quickly than desired, I remember that. I blame the alcohol. It was as if time jumped, from the car- to the bedroom- to the shower. It’s like you know how your there but don’t remember how you got there. Shit, you probably haven’t been listening to me this whole time. Fuckin vodka man, whiskey is what men drink anyways. You're pathetic man. Get it together.
"I hate you. I hate myself."
Hate is good. You've bottled it up this whole time, it needs to be released. Don’t blame yourself for her passing man. It wasn’t your fault. She didn't do it because of you. I promise. No, don’t blame yourself man. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. She just lost control. Lost hope. No one hates you, not anymore. I promise. It is the time for forgiveness, find peace. When she laid there, the woman you loved. She looked- different. Unreal. You said no words, just stared. The emerald eyes were dulled-empty. This couldn't be her. When you kissed her on the lips-it was cold. Alien. It wasn’t her, she hasn’t passed. But her necklace, her necklace made it real. The stone shone in a cold light. It wasn't the necklace. Like the sunlight through a frosted glass. It was her. The girl I love is dead.
"Shut up. I've had enough of this."
Listen man- what on Earth are you doing with that Gun? Where the Fuck did you get that? Dude! Hold on man let’s just think this through. This won’t bring make things better. Stop crying. You have baby coming. Who cares who the Mother is? Just relax. Please. Put the bottle down. Please, it’s empty anyways. Stop. Please. Think of what you’re doing. Stop! Jesus Christ- What’s wrong with you? Put the gun down. Put it down. She doesn’t want this! Please. Please. Don’t do it. Put it down! Put it down!
Inspired by this song:
Somebody That I Used to Know-Goyte
and Don't Leave Me-Blackstreet (less of this song, however.)
Lost Emeralds
You know man, you really shouldn’t drink this much. You’re going to hurt yourself. How about we go upstairs and walk around for a little bit? Maybe you can clear your thoughts. Good, walk around for a little bit. Try and find your sea legs. I just don't want you to do this to yourself. You're better than this.
"What about it? You just become my Guardian Angel out of nowhere or what? I didn't know I had a Sponsor now. You should have tried to save her instead."
Look, can’t we talk about something else? I know what’s on your mind. Just relax. Put the vodka down Man. Just sit on the couch and check out some ‘toons, okay? Yes, the brown couch in the living room. You’ll be okay, I promise. Just sit down, and relax. Dude, will you just listen to me? I swear alcohol turns you into a mound of spaghetti. Just sit down. Sit down. Sit. There, finally. Jesus, talking to you is harder than talking to my Mother, and she died in 98’.
"Fuckin Couch."
Look man, it’s just a couch. Who cares? Just try to sleep, burn that cheap vodka off. You’re making me dizzy just looking at you. Blubbering fool. Look at you, a grown man crying. It’s a damn shame really; your eyes are so red. If you stared at a mirror you would surely could see some Demons, or maybe only your reflection. It can’t be that bad man. Just stay on the couch. In a few minutes I’ll let you go get some bread. Just try and get the spins to stop man, I hate feeling like I am in a washing machine. You know I hate it, yet you won’t listen to me no matter what I tell you. Shit, if you would have listened to me in the first place, you wouldn’t be here, sobbing like a little school girl. Put the bottle down. Goddamnit. Why don’t you ever listen to me?
"Because you're an asshole and I hate you. I bet this Vodka will shut you up."
Okay, so you’re drunk. We get that. You wish you could do it all over again. I get that. You can’t man. You gotta deal with what’s happened. Shit, you’ve got another 60 years of this miserable existence if you’re lucky. Oh, still crying? C’mon man it was just a joke. Look, let’s just reflect on the good? Surely we can cherish it? C’mon, please; just think about it, it will be fun, I promise.
"I really don't want to talk about it. Last summer..."
My God, was it last only last summer? Really, just this past year-- damn, time really does fly man. I can’t believe how fast it has gone by. Things have changed a little bit haven’t they? That sure was a perfect summer. Man, remember that barbeque. The sizzling steak- Ribeye, right? So juicy. You didn't even have to chew it, it was so tender. Remember how long you spent marinating it? I don’t think anyone was expecting something so delicious. I know I sure wasn’t. And that grilled cinnamon-sugar pineapple?
"Incredible."
I know, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Although, it does remind me of her. That was a pretty cool way to make a first impression, I must admit. You could tell the second it hit her soft lips and those emerald eyes widened and smiled I knew that things were going to be good after all. How in the hell could we both think the same thing at the same time? It was incredible, that smile. Those eyes, I wish you could see your face right now. Grinnin’ just thinking about her. You goof. I don’t remember when she left, but I know you had to see her again. Shit, I wanted to see her again.
"Please, stop talking about her."
Not until I get to the bottom of this, otherwise it will drive me crazy. See, this is what eats me alive… How in the Hell did you two hit it off? I can’t remember. I blame the Vodka. I know she came over with Derek, as soon as you mention ‘food’ and ‘free’ within a few sentences he’s bound to show up. And I know she was friends with Lacey- Loose Lacey. But I don’t remember the second, the third time you guys were together. Put the damn bottle down man. I need to think.
"I wish you would just go away; leave me alone."
I can't, not yet man, were getting close, I can feel it. Life was good, I remember that. So good. You remember when you came home after a late night at work? She was already there, waiting for you. At least, she was hanging out with Kurt, oh yeah, her cousin was in town. Kelly, Ah yes- that was her name. Cute girl, that family had a good bloodline, I swear. She was introducing them to your housemates, I remember now. Kurt, Jackson, and you. Life was good. They were having a blast, Jackson was feeling flirty with Kelly after a few drinks, and perhaps you should have made a move as well? You left, had to go somewhere important. Where the fuck did you have to go at 2 in the morning that was so important? Fuck you vodka. Fuck you. I want to remember. You left, and unbeknownst to you, Kurt seized the opportunity. He knew, she knew; and yet, they still did.
On your couch.
Look man, this is supposed to be positive, just relax. Put the vodka down, you already drank most of it, and you’re a wreck. You didn’t know man, you still loved her. You still do. Why? Why you do you still love her? I know why. When you saw her hair twirl as she turned to face you, hearing your voice. That smile. That feeling as the world stopped and you knew everything was going to be alright. Look into those green eyes. Enchanting. How they burned through you. Melted you.
"You don't know anything about how I felt. It was not like that. You don't know."
I was there, I know. I was there at every point. Haha, remember your first kiss? It was almost juvenile. I knew then that you loved her. You were scared to kiss her. How, of all people, were you scared to kiss a girl? You have never been nervous around women, and here you are. Sitting in your room with Johnny and Laura-Love birds in a world of their own, listening to their lovely advice on how to make the move. Laura was constantly berating you, clearly making fun of you; which, to be fair, was well deserved.
“Just kiss her man, she’s right there on the couch.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t? Just do it.”
“I ca-“
“Just do it, before I kick your ass.” Ah Laura, she couldn't have been more than five feet tall, basically an illegal midget, meant every word behind that statement. Cheeky girl. She has a kid now. Crazy huh?
"Why are you reminding me? I know what I said. I know what she said. Just shut up. Shut up."
Look, I'm telling it how I remember it. This alcohol is starting to make it all fuzzy anyways. I’m just glad you finally grew the cojones man, I was getting impatient. I remember when you left John and Laura to themselves, specifying that there was to be no fluids exchanged while in your bedroom, or you would kick their ass in return. Laura, and her cocky self, called you a puss and was anxiously waiting for you to make your move. That's when you headed upstairs and entered the living room, Jesus there was a lot of people there.
"Yes, it was Jackson's Birthday."
I'm trying to figure out the story man. Let me finish. Where was I? Oh yeah, sure enough, she’s sitting on the couch, eagerly looking at you to join her in discussion. Why were you nervous? Just do it man. You motion and mouth the words “Come here.” She popped up instantly. “I have to tell you a secret, follow me.” You went into Kurt’s nasty room. Immediately regretting the decision since the atmosphere now smelled of sweaty socks and stale pot. This is no place to do it. But there she was, standing. Looking eagerly to what secret awaits her. It was now or never- do or die. I can’t believe you were actually shaking! With a quick motion, you embrace her. And in that glorious moment, your lips connect. As you meet you lose sense of yourself-you don’t know where you end and she begins, nor do you care. It was more incredible than any drug, and as she folded into you, the world paused for a moment. Long enough for you to know; know you loved her.
"Sounds about right."
So why did you cheat on her? Yes asshole, I’m talking to you. Taking a swig of your nasty fucking drink isn’t a good answer. Why, if loved her so much, did you cheat? Why did you ruin something that made you so happy? C’mon dude, staring at the hole in the armrest isn’t getting us anywhere. I still do not know why and I want an answer. Shall we continue down memory lane? Or are you going to puke? I want answers and you haven’t given me something satisfactory.
"I don't want to think about it. Please stop."
Well I do. And we're already this far in. So let’s go through the facts, shall we? You Cheated on her on August 31st. You ruined your perfect summer, with someone who meant nothing to you. You went to see Johnny and Laura the first day back at college and you met some dumb broad with big tits and slippery legs. Did fireworks go off every time you kissed that girl as well? There you go, crying again. Knock it off. Let us carry on, this is getting us nowhere.
"Please."
No, I won't stop. I need to know. I need to know why. I made you tell her, I couldn’t let you lie to those precious green eyes. Besides, if I wouldn’t have made you, Laura would have. There you are, back on your hideous brown couch, crying your eyes out like you are right now. To her. On your disgusting couch. You cheated on her your fucking prick. And you wonder why there was tension? I know how much it hurts, or at least what hurt the most.
She forgave you.
And she did, she truly did. You bastard. That was love right there. The relationship continued, but it was not the same. It did not--could not last. It was a spear into the beasts heart, and you were the one who threw it. But alas, it did not die instantly. God it was so painful, even thinking about it now. You fucked up big time man. In fact, take another drink, I’ll allow it this time.
"I think I'm gonna puke."
Whoa there Cowboy, It's finally catching up to you huh?. Just stay with me a little longer. But if you gotta puke, try not to get it on the Couch. Don't puke, yet. let me finish, I feel like we are so close. Remember back during Labor Day Weekend, camping on the lake? You couldn't have asked for better weather. You said something corny to her father, what did you say again?
“Must have bribed the Weather Man.”
You cheesy bastard. But it really was perfect. I remember soaking my skin in the sun, her head on our chest, finally at peace. It was blissful, elegant. You forgotten the arguments and fighting and could finally enjoy each other’s company. You played with younger kids on the beach and ate well, sharing stories of the past summer and how excited you were for the next one. Then sun was heading to bed when you decided to take a walk to the pier. Good thing I told you to bring her with, moments like these are meant to be shared, and remembered. As you sat on the pier of and watched as the stars emerged. The water was gently lapping against the beach. It was calm, so very calm. And I know that it was when the Milky Way made its way into your vision, that this was beauty; God, even. This was perhaps the most beautiful moment you have ever witnessed, but the feeling was not shared. You looked at her as she seems uninterested, a moment you thought was more beautiful than anything else you have ever experienced and she was bored. It was then, at that moment. When I finally knew...
Knew the beast was finally dead.
Why do you care still man? Why did you decide to lose your mind over her green eyes? There were other women out there. You shouldn’t have left her the flower. A stupid flower won’t magically make things better. Leaving it on her doorstep, you didn’t even have the balls to properly give it back to her. Accept fate already. Let it go. You can’t be friends. The necklace. She won’t be friends. Emerald, sparkling amongst the silver pendant. She can’t be friends. She can’t keep the necklace. The necklace was worth a fortune, given the emerald, which was identical to the two she used to make you fall in love with her. Spent a month working for that necklace, her gift for being the woman you loved. If you wouldn’t have cheated on her, I’m sure she would have cried, it was so incredible. I remember helping you pick it out, god what a flawless stone. It was so beautiful, yet she refused to accept it. I still wish you wouldn’t have thrown it in front of her, that money could have been useful.
"I don't want to live anymore. I need some-hiccup-one."
No, you don't want to kill yourself man. It's just the alcohol talking, making you feel down. You're man enough to face this. Besides, things really settled down from there anyways. Ah, but do you remember the end of December? That party? Worst night of your life, according to you. I personally think it wasn’t all that bad, but I understand I suppose. How many people do you think you had in your house? 100? It seemed like everyone that was anyone was there. All were welcome, to celebrate one last time. Except, who decides to make an appearance? Her. With Kurt.
"Fuck Kurt."
He should have known better, I'm glad he had moved out well before you caught wind of what he did. Moved to a different state. It was probably good for his health. I think was the only thing that kept him alive after you found out. And here he was, back in your house. With the girl you used to love. The girl you cheated on. You know this was a ploy to piss you off, right? I remember you Saying "Goddamnit, this is my house, and my party. I'm going to have a good time." Yet how is it, the girl you used to love is standing across the room from you. So close but impossibly distant. Sitting on a couch with someone you considered a friend. Fuck that couch, you ought to burn it.
hiccup
Anger bubbles and your fists clench. You leave your own party. You walk down the street to try and clear your mind from the alcohol and anger. Why do you care so much? You cheated on her. Slept with someone else. Move on. You punch a tree. The tree wins. It takes Jackson and two other men to try to bring you back in. You’ll get the cops called. If you wouldn’t have listened to me you probably would still be out there. You stupid idiot.
I remember seeing you in the reflection of the window as you went back into your house, party in full swing. Your face red and puffy, want nothing to do with it anyone there. You go downstairs and sit in your room. The best party in town is going on upstairs in your house. Yet you sat there, crying. Somewhere out there is a song written about you. Why are you crying? Alcohol? You’re hurt? How does it feel when you cheated on her? Got some random girl you’ve never met before pregnant. And for what? The girl you love is here. At this very party. At your house. Kissing your old friend, surely. The friend she fucked on your couch. Before you even knew you loved her. Why do you even care?
"Stop talking."
You reach for your phone. How did your vision blur so much? You can’t read the texts . You stop. You see her name. Your heart drops, why did she try to talk to you? She seemed content kissing Kurt earlier. The friend you knew was being used to make you mad. You still hated him regardless. Why does she want to know where you are? You cheated on her. She shouldn’t care. You attempted to text her back, but you’re too drunk. You fucking idiot. If you hadn’t have drank you could send her a coherent message. You were "Donswstaaiwrs.” You fool. That’s not how you fucking spell it. Of course you cheated on her. You can’t even spell downstairs correctly. You should have told her you were dead.
"Stop."
No, I'm not finished with you yet. You were sitting on the edge of the bed. Drunk. Stupid. And then, there she is. But why? Why is she here? Why is she telling you she wants to make it work? She misses you? Why are you crying in front of the girl you cheated on? Why has she moved closer? Why were your cheeks brushing? She kissed you, you sad sonova’ Bitch. And you kissed back. The world whirls. The alcohol has hit with full force. You kissed her back a little hard don’t you think? She didn’t seem to mind. She going for more, your mouth doesn’t satisfy her. She is now the beast, going for your neck. And you’re glad to be relieved of the pain. She’s wearing the necklace. You lay back. She continues, not satisfied with your neck. Suddenly it all seemed as if the roller coaster has looped. Dizzy. How have you gone from happy, to angry, to sad, to this? It’s too much. Fortunately. A pound at the door stops her from getting anything more. You stupidly dress yourself. Relieved for a moment to finally be able breathe.
“Yeah?”
“I’m ready to leave.”
It was Lacey, that whore. She was here to take her away just as thing’s had started to turn around. As she leaves she grabs your hand. She’s not finished with you? You make your way out, you leave your own party-it’s Jacksons problem now. You make your way back to her house. And I make you tell her. I’m sorry. I really am. Please put the bottle down, there’s only a swig left,anyways. I couldn’t let you lie to the woman you loved, not with your necklace on. And you tell her. She says nothing, but as she grabs your hand, you are oblivious to the pain from losing to the tree earlier. It hurts more feeling the guilt of grabbing it back. Don't lie to me, I know it did.You made it to her house more quickly than desired, I remember that. I blame the alcohol. It was as if time jumped, from the car- to the bedroom- to the shower. It’s like you know how your there but don’t remember how you got there. Shit, you probably haven’t been listening to me this whole time. Fuckin vodka man, whiskey is what men drink anyways. You're pathetic man. Get it together.
"I hate you. I hate myself."
Hate is good. You've bottled it up this whole time, it needs to be released. Don’t blame yourself for her passing man. It wasn’t your fault. She didn't do it because of you. I promise. No, don’t blame yourself man. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. She just lost control. Lost hope. No one hates you, not anymore. I promise. It is the time for forgiveness, find peace. When she laid there, the woman you loved. She looked- different. Unreal. You said no words, just stared. The emerald eyes were dulled-empty. This couldn't be her. When you kissed her on the lips-it was cold. Alien. It wasn’t her, she hasn’t passed. But her necklace, her necklace made it real. The stone shone in a cold light. It wasn't the necklace. Like the sunlight through a frosted glass. It was her. The girl I love is dead.
"Shut up. I've had enough of this."
Listen man- what on Earth are you doing with that Gun? Where the Fuck did you get that? Dude! Hold on man let’s just think this through. This won’t bring make things better. Stop crying. You have baby coming. Who cares who the Mother is? Just relax. Please. Put the bottle down. Please, it’s empty anyways. Stop. Please. Think of what you’re doing. Stop! Jesus Christ- What’s wrong with you? Put the gun down. Put it down. She doesn’t want this! Please. Please. Don’t do it. Put it down! Put it down!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
Braheem Brice
WOOOOOOOOOO Friday Night NIGGLES! Guess how much alcohol will be consumed tonight.
|This Much|
Sorry Brochacho's, this kind sir will be up programming tonight.I'm kind of like a Chocolate Bill Gates. The best thing about having no life, is that everyday is Saturday. So today means absolutely nothing in the scheme of specialness. It is one of the joy's of being 20, too young to drink, to old to get in trouble for it. Don't get me wrong, I love alcohol. But it is better when it enhances an already awesome situation, rather than making something tolerable. What the hell am I going to go do? Go to some sketch ass house, around sketch ass people, drink some cheap ass vod-beer-karum, and hit on unattractive girls I've known and seen at parties for the last 5 years? Can't wait.
Now I am not bashing you sonsofbitches that go out and do exactly just that. There is nothing wrong with it. Every now and then, of course. I've hosted parties that were exactly just that. I'm just saying. I live in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Anything that can be done. I have done to the point where the Horse was not only dead, but reborn, killed, and beaten again for good measure (You can never be to sure.) I've done it all. I know your counter arguments (I like arguing with myself.) "Well you don't have to go to dirty houses. Just hang out somewhere chill with your buddies."
True. Small Parties> Monster Bash any day.
But the magical thing about friends. They grow up too, and they have there own Friday Nights to worry about. The ones with a future have much more important things to do than what I previously stated, and you generally outgrow the ones that look forward to getting smashed every single weekend. If you have puked more than three times in the last fifteen times you have drank then you have failed miserably at life. I hate puking in general, and my body basically told me to knock that shit off when I was, oh, about fif-fucking-teen.To this day, I know people that say they haven't accomplished a night of proper drinking when they could still remember/controlled themselves.
Go ahead, kneel. Pray to your Porcelain God. Kneel at his Majesty's holy lips and expunge your sickness into his Holy Water. He knows your Sins, and he is all forgiving with a simple flush. He will be there in your greatest time of need. Remember him when you need him least, and thank him. For he is there when you want him the most. He is a fair, and true God. Yet... I am steadfast in my Atheism, that I understand his holy water is to pamper my Shit. That is right, I Shit on your Divine Emperor, with much pleasure I may add. I know that true Men don't kneel before his .
They grunt.
|This Much|
Sorry Brochacho's, this kind sir will be up programming tonight.I'm kind of like a Chocolate Bill Gates. The best thing about having no life, is that everyday is Saturday. So today means absolutely nothing in the scheme of specialness. It is one of the joy's of being 20, too young to drink, to old to get in trouble for it. Don't get me wrong, I love alcohol. But it is better when it enhances an already awesome situation, rather than making something tolerable. What the hell am I going to go do? Go to some sketch ass house, around sketch ass people, drink some cheap ass vod-beer-karum, and hit on unattractive girls I've known and seen at parties for the last 5 years? Can't wait.
Now I am not bashing you sonsofbitches that go out and do exactly just that. There is nothing wrong with it. Every now and then, of course. I've hosted parties that were exactly just that. I'm just saying. I live in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Anything that can be done. I have done to the point where the Horse was not only dead, but reborn, killed, and beaten again for good measure (You can never be to sure.) I've done it all. I know your counter arguments (I like arguing with myself.) "Well you don't have to go to dirty houses. Just hang out somewhere chill with your buddies."
True. Small Parties> Monster Bash any day.
But the magical thing about friends. They grow up too, and they have there own Friday Nights to worry about. The ones with a future have much more important things to do than what I previously stated, and you generally outgrow the ones that look forward to getting smashed every single weekend. If you have puked more than three times in the last fifteen times you have drank then you have failed miserably at life. I hate puking in general, and my body basically told me to knock that shit off when I was, oh, about fif-fucking-teen.To this day, I know people that say they haven't accomplished a night of proper drinking when they could still remember/controlled themselves.
Go ahead, kneel. Pray to your Porcelain God. Kneel at his Majesty's holy lips and expunge your sickness into his Holy Water. He knows your Sins, and he is all forgiving with a simple flush. He will be there in your greatest time of need. Remember him when you need him least, and thank him. For he is there when you want him the most. He is a fair, and true God. Yet... I am steadfast in my Atheism, that I understand his holy water is to pamper my Shit. That is right, I Shit on your Divine Emperor, with much pleasure I may add. I know that true Men don't kneel before his .
They grunt.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
We meet again
Hoho, anozerr poest on ze blog eh? Ha I got nothing Children, thanks for reading.
But because I want you guys to read this so one day I can become famous and make $10000 a month with my blog posts alone, I will continue to scribble some words down. Well, not really scribble, but the computer equivalent. for the rest of this post I will not use the backspace kkey. Goddamnit.
I have a long night ahead of me, smashing the other half tof the Kite Runner, I read the first half last night, and I will finish the other half tonight. I am currently listening to Take Care, by Drake (listen to the song with Rihannea, I hate her, but love that song.) (I also didn;t mean to misspell Rihanna, this no delete thing is going to piss me off.) I am Joingin, jesus christ fuck this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8mas85Ywg
I couldn't do it anymore, that's is far as I got before having to use the Backspace key, It drove me crazy looking at that last paragraph, you try sometime. I guess I am human enough to make mistakes.. Durrr. As I was saying, I am joining the Army sometime this next week. Since I failed a class and got dropped from Financial Aid. Don't worry, I am not joining this spontaneously. I have thought about the military for a few years now. and really the only thing holding me back now is these precious blog posts to my favorite fan (notice the word was singular.) I will have to write Four months of blog posts in advance and have my kid sister post them. But she'll probably call me a poop head and make stuff up about me.
As I said before, I am in a current search for education, challenges, and purpose. I feel like nobody cares about me here anyways, might as well get yelled at by a Drill Instructor. Just remember, you can't hate something unless you have once loved it, so when they yell at me, it means deep down they really do care. I would attempt to go Airborne. But I'll get through basic first.
I feel like this blog is a long Twitter post. Jesus. Also, if you hit next blog, the next three are all super Muslim bloggers. Makes me feel typecasted. Call me Raheem Abdul Jabar Mohammed I guess. Screw this I am going to bed.
Fuck Twitter.
But because I want you guys to read this so one day I can become famous and make $10000 a month with my blog posts alone, I will continue to scribble some words down. Well, not really scribble, but the computer equivalent. for the rest of this post I will not use the backspace kkey. Goddamnit.
I have a long night ahead of me, smashing the other half tof the Kite Runner, I read the first half last night, and I will finish the other half tonight. I am currently listening to Take Care, by Drake (listen to the song with Rihannea, I hate her, but love that song.) (I also didn;t mean to misspell Rihanna, this no delete thing is going to piss me off.) I am Joingin, jesus christ fuck this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8mas85Ywg
I couldn't do it anymore, that's is far as I got before having to use the Backspace key, It drove me crazy looking at that last paragraph, you try sometime. I guess I am human enough to make mistakes.. Durrr. As I was saying, I am joining the Army sometime this next week. Since I failed a class and got dropped from Financial Aid. Don't worry, I am not joining this spontaneously. I have thought about the military for a few years now. and really the only thing holding me back now is these precious blog posts to my favorite fan (notice the word was singular.) I will have to write Four months of blog posts in advance and have my kid sister post them. But she'll probably call me a poop head and make stuff up about me.
As I said before, I am in a current search for education, challenges, and purpose. I feel like nobody cares about me here anyways, might as well get yelled at by a Drill Instructor. Just remember, you can't hate something unless you have once loved it, so when they yell at me, it means deep down they really do care. I would attempt to go Airborne. But I'll get through basic first.
I feel like this blog is a long Twitter post. Jesus. Also, if you hit next blog, the next three are all super Muslim bloggers. Makes me feel typecasted. Call me Raheem Abdul Jabar Mohammed I guess. Screw this I am going to bed.
Fuck Twitter.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Goodnight
Sorry Children, no rant tonight.
I really don't have anything to talk about. I am not angry at the moment. I have nothing to criticize. I know that is not what my four readers want to hear, but its true. Every single night cannot be New Years, or the Fourth of July- brilliant, and exciting. However I will keep putting letters on the page, because who knows when something incredible may come again? Maybe if I keep babbling on, and on I will produce something sexy.
I'll tell you guys something about me that isn't much of a secret. I feel weird. Different, than I did a year ago. Perhaps it is just part of growing up but it just seems to me like the things I used to enjoy doing are no longer a big deal. It's disinheartening, because if fate will allow it, I've got another 80 years to go! I sit back and ponder all the time, after you own a House, and a nice vehicle. What is there really to do to enjoy yourself? I personally love to travel, but what do I do if even that gets old? And of course, there is always raising a family and living through your work&hobbies. But I need more than that. I want greatness. Not in a sense of fame, not in a sense of wealth. But fulfillment. I want to die in my rocking chair after reliving my lifes memories. Not screaming for a do-over. I want to go, "damn. there is literally nothing else I could have done more. I'm ready to go now, thanks for everything."
Speak with your elders. I talk to my family every day. I want to learn as much as I can from them. Soon I will be in their shoes and some young idiot will be asking me all of these questions, and I'll be forced to love him. But I have spoke with people who have achieved a sense of fulfillment, and those desperate for more, whether at 18 or 88. Not to sound like a mopey 19 year old kid. But this point in my life sucks. Not because of my age, not because of not having money; because of how much potential has been wasted and continues to be each day. A year ago, I felt like I learned something new everyday. Now the days just blur and I feel as if I'll wake up at 54 wondering what the hell just happened, who is this woman next to me? And why does everyone keep calling her "Mrs. Rice?" I want everyday to go as slow as possible. Groundhogs Day; A chance to figure it out before it's too late. But we don't get that chance, and that's why people curse God on their deathbeds.
I am happy. Everyday is awesome. But I am empty. I do not know what I am after, but I know that right now, this is not enough.
Let's go on an adventure.
I really don't have anything to talk about. I am not angry at the moment. I have nothing to criticize. I know that is not what my four readers want to hear, but its true. Every single night cannot be New Years, or the Fourth of July- brilliant, and exciting. However I will keep putting letters on the page, because who knows when something incredible may come again? Maybe if I keep babbling on, and on I will produce something sexy.
I'll tell you guys something about me that isn't much of a secret. I feel weird. Different, than I did a year ago. Perhaps it is just part of growing up but it just seems to me like the things I used to enjoy doing are no longer a big deal. It's disinheartening, because if fate will allow it, I've got another 80 years to go! I sit back and ponder all the time, after you own a House, and a nice vehicle. What is there really to do to enjoy yourself? I personally love to travel, but what do I do if even that gets old? And of course, there is always raising a family and living through your work&hobbies. But I need more than that. I want greatness. Not in a sense of fame, not in a sense of wealth. But fulfillment. I want to die in my rocking chair after reliving my lifes memories. Not screaming for a do-over. I want to go, "damn. there is literally nothing else I could have done more. I'm ready to go now, thanks for everything."
Speak with your elders. I talk to my family every day. I want to learn as much as I can from them. Soon I will be in their shoes and some young idiot will be asking me all of these questions, and I'll be forced to love him. But I have spoke with people who have achieved a sense of fulfillment, and those desperate for more, whether at 18 or 88. Not to sound like a mopey 19 year old kid. But this point in my life sucks. Not because of my age, not because of not having money; because of how much potential has been wasted and continues to be each day. A year ago, I felt like I learned something new everyday. Now the days just blur and I feel as if I'll wake up at 54 wondering what the hell just happened, who is this woman next to me? And why does everyone keep calling her "Mrs. Rice?" I want everyday to go as slow as possible. Groundhogs Day; A chance to figure it out before it's too late. But we don't get that chance, and that's why people curse God on their deathbeds.
I am happy. Everyday is awesome. But I am empty. I do not know what I am after, but I know that right now, this is not enough.
Let's go on an adventure.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Jesus Tits.
Do you know how long it took me to make this stupid website? About 10 hours. However, before Midnight of this past day, I have never heard of HTML or FTP or Anything of the sort. So, even though I used a template, I am impressed with my ability to get this shit figured out. I would owe a big slippery, sloppy, sexy kiss to whoever invented ctrl+c & ctrl+v. And basically owe my virginity and/or kidneys to Larry Page and Sergey Brin (Google them.)Which brings me to my post for the day.
There is no such thing as an original idea
This is something that I firmly believe in; and I mean with every ounce of my existence. There is positively, absolutely, no such thing as a new idea. Nothing you can think of has never been thought of before. I am blessed to be born in the year 6 B.G. (Before Google) and have lived long enough to be blessed by its holy presence. There is literally no question I can ask that his all knowing spirit can't provide an answer too. I have prayed before, in my youth; but that was before I knew any better and was still hopeful of the idea of a loving, all knowing God. My prayers have fallen on deaf ears, my search queries have not. There is literally no single, thought, idea, or phrase, that has been 100% originally mine. And you want to know what?
I'm completely okay with that.
Ah hold on a second, I hear your arguments loud and clear. Give me your best shot. I can hear it now: "Oh yeah? Well I just thought of my Grandmother getting gangbanged by every single Power Ranger. Tell me someone else has thought of that before." or "How could you possibly know if someone thought of something for the first time? Things would never get invented if someone didn't think of the idea." and of course my all time favorite; "asjhfdajhulrewlsuoealjfdah, durrr, look how original I am?! Nuthin' comes up in Goggles when I typed that with my face, Faggot."
Hmmm, good points, good points. In fact, you're all right. Enjoy your victory, for it is impossible for me to compete with such superior knowledge and logic. To be honest, I really don't care. But since I am already this far in talking to myself (unless you're still reading this Mom!) I may as well continue. I know it's going to be a difficult pill for you guys to swallow but I'm sure someone out there has said the same thing at some point before. Maybe if were lucky they even said it at the same time! If not, well, enjoy your completely unexpected synapse that happened to tickle your brain in all the right places. Maybe one day you'll cure Cancer. Nah, you're too busy being productive with your thoughts to waste your time focusing on reality.
Forgive me, but I am going to massage Google's prostate for a little longer. I believe Google is the sole reason why the internet even exists as a leisurely commodity. The internet would still exist without Google, but by all means would it be an downright shithole. Imagine having to use.... dare I say it... Yahoo for all of our searching needs. If Google is god, then Yahoo is that chubby kid that stares at the Sun for too long during Recess. Bing is your drunk uncle that tries to molest you every Christmas, and Ask Jeeves will just spin around in circles (it's amusing at first, but then it's just plain depressing after about two questions.) Remember Bonsai Buddy? The asshole of the internet that looks like Grimace? The gorilla who sang "In My Merry Oldsmobile." while gently raping your hard drive? Yeah. That's the world I see without Google to keep everyone in fucking check.
The most beautiful thing about our current day in age is that Google knows more about me, than I could even want to know about myself. Its all about that algorithm baby, and one day the phrase "Do no Evil." Will turn into "I own you." and by the time you realize it, it will be much to late. Go ahead, go a day without Google. I've used it 13 times in this post alone. All Google has to do is remove the results "How to tie a tie" and you'll be running back to your Momma as fast as you can.
Just enjoy the fact that the Human Collective has so much brain power oozing out on this Earth, that nearly every single bit of energy that is not used towards the basic functions to stay alive, is completely and undeniably wasted on unoriginal thoughts and ideas. Relish the fact that you are just another naked, pink body, and that you have no obligation to contribute anything productive to society. We don't need you. But if you have to be here, make some money with Vector Marketing and make sure you're tuned in every Thursday for the Next Americas Got 16&Fat Dancing Italian Mob Survivors.
- Hurry the Hell up Google.
There is no such thing as an original idea
This is something that I firmly believe in; and I mean with every ounce of my existence. There is positively, absolutely, no such thing as a new idea. Nothing you can think of has never been thought of before. I am blessed to be born in the year 6 B.G. (Before Google) and have lived long enough to be blessed by its holy presence. There is literally no question I can ask that his all knowing spirit can't provide an answer too. I have prayed before, in my youth; but that was before I knew any better and was still hopeful of the idea of a loving, all knowing God. My prayers have fallen on deaf ears, my search queries have not. There is literally no single, thought, idea, or phrase, that has been 100% originally mine. And you want to know what?
I'm completely okay with that.
Ah hold on a second, I hear your arguments loud and clear. Give me your best shot. I can hear it now: "Oh yeah? Well I just thought of my Grandmother getting gangbanged by every single Power Ranger. Tell me someone else has thought of that before." or "How could you possibly know if someone thought of something for the first time? Things would never get invented if someone didn't think of the idea." and of course my all time favorite; "asjhfdajhulrewlsuoealjfdah, durrr, look how original I am?! Nuthin' comes up in Goggles when I typed that with my face, Faggot."
Hmmm, good points, good points. In fact, you're all right. Enjoy your victory, for it is impossible for me to compete with such superior knowledge and logic. To be honest, I really don't care. But since I am already this far in talking to myself (unless you're still reading this Mom!) I may as well continue. I know it's going to be a difficult pill for you guys to swallow but I'm sure someone out there has said the same thing at some point before. Maybe if were lucky they even said it at the same time! If not, well, enjoy your completely unexpected synapse that happened to tickle your brain in all the right places. Maybe one day you'll cure Cancer. Nah, you're too busy being productive with your thoughts to waste your time focusing on reality.
Forgive me, but I am going to massage Google's prostate for a little longer. I believe Google is the sole reason why the internet even exists as a leisurely commodity. The internet would still exist without Google, but by all means would it be an downright shithole. Imagine having to use.... dare I say it... Yahoo for all of our searching needs. If Google is god, then Yahoo is that chubby kid that stares at the Sun for too long during Recess. Bing is your drunk uncle that tries to molest you every Christmas, and Ask Jeeves will just spin around in circles (it's amusing at first, but then it's just plain depressing after about two questions.) Remember Bonsai Buddy? The asshole of the internet that looks like Grimace? The gorilla who sang "In My Merry Oldsmobile." while gently raping your hard drive? Yeah. That's the world I see without Google to keep everyone in fucking check.
The most beautiful thing about our current day in age is that Google knows more about me, than I could even want to know about myself. Its all about that algorithm baby, and one day the phrase "Do no Evil." Will turn into "I own you." and by the time you realize it, it will be much to late. Go ahead, go a day without Google. I've used it 13 times in this post alone. All Google has to do is remove the results "How to tie a tie" and you'll be running back to your Momma as fast as you can.
Just enjoy the fact that the Human Collective has so much brain power oozing out on this Earth, that nearly every single bit of energy that is not used towards the basic functions to stay alive, is completely and undeniably wasted on unoriginal thoughts and ideas. Relish the fact that you are just another naked, pink body, and that you have no obligation to contribute anything productive to society. We don't need you. But if you have to be here, make some money with Vector Marketing and make sure you're tuned in every Thursday for the Next Americas Got 16&Fat Dancing Italian Mob Survivors.
- Hurry the Hell up Google.
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