Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Andy, all I have to say is you ROCK!
For those of you who don't know, for the past week I've been basically gutting my blog. I was entering code for God-knows-what, trying to post pictures. BUT now, because of Andy Dost, that FUCKIN' GENIUS, my site is working the way it is intended.
Hurray Andy, You will never make my
Villain of the Day
list. THANK YOU so much.
Go ahead people, look around. See what you like. If you scroll all the way down, you can see an animation Andy's sister, Margaret, made for me. That whole family is genius!
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For those of you who don't know, for the past week I've been basically gutting my blog. I was entering code for God-knows-what, trying to post pictures. BUT now, because of Andy Dost, that FUCKIN' GENIUS, my site is working the way it is intended.
Hurray Andy, You will never make my
Villain of the Day
list. THANK YOU so much.
Go ahead people, look around. See what you like. If you scroll all the way down, you can see an animation Andy's sister, Margaret, made for me. That whole family is genius!
|
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
I'm trying to get pictures posted on the sidebar of my blog. I keep failing, but I'm trying.
If you look to your right, you should see two pictures I posted, but sometimes they're not there. So, to see them, click on the link titled "Collection of Pics". This will take you to a Geocities site I created to hold my pictures. When you click the back button on your browser, my blog should have these pictures on them.
ANDY, if you know why this is happening, tell me. If not, I'll work at it. If ANYONE might know, tell me. I am so lost right now.
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If you look to your right, you should see two pictures I posted, but sometimes they're not there. So, to see them, click on the link titled "Collection of Pics". This will take you to a Geocities site I created to hold my pictures. When you click the back button on your browser, my blog should have these pictures on them.
ANDY, if you know why this is happening, tell me. If not, I'll work at it. If ANYONE might know, tell me. I am so lost right now.
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Sunday, December 28, 2003
It's tradition to make a resolution for the new year as it symbolizes the rebirth of Man in a new year. We are better for having lived another year and we deserve to better ourselves. I was never one for tradition so instead I am posting a threatening letter I wrote myself a few months back. I can't really remember when I wrote it; I might have been drunk, I don't know. I recently found it scribbled in a notebook. I don't suggest you read it though, I am posting this for my own online reference on my blog. Also, I wrote in a sort-of-code that only I am barely able to understand. This letter was really a way for me to get out of my head and yell at myself. If I ever reread my blog (if I'm ever that stupid), I will have this as a reference to how I felt when I wrote it. Again, this is something serious I wrote myself. If you want to read something funny and interesting, I'll post something in the coming days.
NOTE: The original writing was full of spelling errors so I am not printing the letter exactly as I found it. I took the liberty of changing some things. Also, I changed the name of a person I mention in this letter; I used the familiar "Pedro" instead.
Dear Alex,
I have no respect, nor do I really deserve it. I'm a foil for others. I'm decoyboy hiding in the ever-deceiving shadows. I'm not me. Who am I? If I read this sometime in the future, it's probably to see who I was. Guess what; you weren't anybody. You fuckin' idiot! What the fuck was wrong with you? If I weren't you, I'd kill you. You regretted everything because everything you did was regrettable. You just had one of those weeks. You remember. The type where you felt more comfortable dragging your head everywhere.
Remember the stones? You were burning a hole in that fucker. Had that straight for a month. Still got it? You had Brasco, Gold, fear and Loathing; anything new? How about Thompson? You still writing ramblings? You had plans. How about San Pedro? You know what I'm talking about. You thought about it all day. Any new drawings? Any ideas? At least ideas motherfucker, all you had were your ideas. Inventions? Still learning? Where are you? Did I plan that? Do you still understand what I'm typing? I'm being vague for a reason. Swear? Did you earn respect and grow up? You remember. Pedro had to talk to you. Did Pedro ever do anything? You were ready to kill that fucker if he did. You remember that? He might not have done anything, but you still felt safer with the sharpened knife. Shit, you shouldn't sharpen your knife at the table; Fuck it, bring the spoon. What are you doing now? Is this wasting time?
SIO-->Straight into oblivion
JAFITFK-->Just another freak in the freak kingdom
You're mind was at ease, but you didn't like it. Socialize? What job you got now? Fuck, I didn't see that coming.
See you in Hell motherfucker,
The Past
|
NOTE: The original writing was full of spelling errors so I am not printing the letter exactly as I found it. I took the liberty of changing some things. Also, I changed the name of a person I mention in this letter; I used the familiar "Pedro" instead.
Dear Alex,
I have no respect, nor do I really deserve it. I'm a foil for others. I'm decoyboy hiding in the ever-deceiving shadows. I'm not me. Who am I? If I read this sometime in the future, it's probably to see who I was. Guess what; you weren't anybody. You fuckin' idiot! What the fuck was wrong with you? If I weren't you, I'd kill you. You regretted everything because everything you did was regrettable. You just had one of those weeks. You remember. The type where you felt more comfortable dragging your head everywhere.
Remember the stones? You were burning a hole in that fucker. Had that straight for a month. Still got it? You had Brasco, Gold, fear and Loathing; anything new? How about Thompson? You still writing ramblings? You had plans. How about San Pedro? You know what I'm talking about. You thought about it all day. Any new drawings? Any ideas? At least ideas motherfucker, all you had were your ideas. Inventions? Still learning? Where are you? Did I plan that? Do you still understand what I'm typing? I'm being vague for a reason. Swear? Did you earn respect and grow up? You remember. Pedro had to talk to you. Did Pedro ever do anything? You were ready to kill that fucker if he did. You remember that? He might not have done anything, but you still felt safer with the sharpened knife. Shit, you shouldn't sharpen your knife at the table; Fuck it, bring the spoon. What are you doing now? Is this wasting time?
SIO-->Straight into oblivion
JAFITFK-->Just another freak in the freak kingdom
You're mind was at ease, but you didn't like it. Socialize? What job you got now? Fuck, I didn't see that coming.
See you in Hell motherfucker,
The Past
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Saturday, December 27, 2003
And...Done!
YAY, I've just finished watching the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Special Christmas cheer to my dad who gave me the best gift this holiday season: The booty of an Internet pirate.
Wait...That came out wrong.
Very Wrong!
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YAY, I've just finished watching the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Special Christmas cheer to my dad who gave me the best gift this holiday season: The booty of an Internet pirate.
Wait...That came out wrong.
Very Wrong!
|
Thursday, December 25, 2003
Yeah. It's Christmas time and all the pressures of the holiday season exploded in a maelstrom of wrapping paper. Damn little children and their "Santa."
The new year approaches and my parents make scary plans. Fuck, who wants to go to New Orleans; only thing there are blacks and drunks. By this, I mean no offense to any blacks or drunks reading this.
That's all I got. Remember, it's the holiday so it's the time of year that all problems are whitewashed. I hope all problems can be solved.
Merry Christmas and any other holiday you may or may not celebrate.
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The new year approaches and my parents make scary plans. Fuck, who wants to go to New Orleans; only thing there are blacks and drunks. By this, I mean no offense to any blacks or drunks reading this.
That's all I got. Remember, it's the holiday so it's the time of year that all problems are whitewashed. I hope all problems can be solved.
Merry Christmas and any other holiday you may or may not celebrate.
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Tuesday, December 23, 2003
FEAR AND LOATHING AT THE NORTH POLE OR FUCK CHRISTMAS OR A VISIT FROM SOME SICK FAT RAT BASTARD
by Jack Tomas as Hunter S. Thompson
very slightly edited by Robert Fernandez
copyright 1999
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Kitchen
Not a creature was stirring, not even Dick Nixon
I had eaten the acid, So I didn't care
that my dining room table had sprouted some hair;
I had a quart of tequila between my knees,
While I snorted some coke from off of my sleeve;
I was sitting there typing, something about Slick Willy,
and I was sitting there naked so I was quite chilly,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I Grabbed my magnum to make some brains splatter!
Away to the window I staggered towards,
Trying to avoid all these midgets with swords.
I turned on the searchlight and looked all around,
But I couldn't believe what I'd Fucking found,
Was it the Mescaline, Acid or Beer that made appear
But a Fire Apple sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
Then I suddenly heard someone moaning,
Some Crazy fat Bastard, I think He's Samoan?
He pointed at his Venison engine, that looked pretty lame,
And he Cursed, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, ACID! now, mescal! now, AMYLS and COKE!
On, CANNABIS! on ETHER! on, REDS and METH, give me a toke!
Get up off your ass Or I'll slit your throats!
We got to get in before they kill us like Goats!
I would kill the rat bastard who sold me this Shit!
He sold it to me for 5 bucks a hit,
Was there really a fat Samoan outside my door?
Stinking of Vomit, and Liquor and Whores?
I was locking the doors, and grabbing my guns,
I was armed to the Teeth like some Burlesque of a HUN.
I heard a noise and I started to duck,
When out of my chimney came that crazy fat fuck!
He was dressed like some kind of Mexican pimp,
He carried a knife in his hand that was limp;
While the other one searched for a bit of support,
He took out an Amyl and started to snort.
His eyes -- they were so bloodshot! his face was so hairy!
He was like Spiro Agnew, and that's fuckin' Scary!
He had vomit and cheetos crusted to his shirt
And the beard on his chin was all full of dirt;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a crazy face and a fat fucking belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was a fat fucking bastard , a friend of Tim Leary,
I could tell by his face, cause he was weakened and weary;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;
He stabbed at some grapefruit I had on my desk
And Grabbed an old Gym sock from my medicine chest,
He filled it up with all kinds of Drugs,
then he turned around and puked on my rug.
He crawled in his sled, and turned up the tunes,
I started shooting as he flew towards the moon,
He gave me the finger as if waving good-bye,
"YOU'RE TOO WEIRD TO LIVE! TOO RARE TO DIE!"
|
by Jack Tomas as Hunter S. Thompson
very slightly edited by Robert Fernandez
copyright 1999
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Kitchen
Not a creature was stirring, not even Dick Nixon
I had eaten the acid, So I didn't care
that my dining room table had sprouted some hair;
I had a quart of tequila between my knees,
While I snorted some coke from off of my sleeve;
I was sitting there typing, something about Slick Willy,
and I was sitting there naked so I was quite chilly,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I Grabbed my magnum to make some brains splatter!
Away to the window I staggered towards,
Trying to avoid all these midgets with swords.
I turned on the searchlight and looked all around,
But I couldn't believe what I'd Fucking found,
Was it the Mescaline, Acid or Beer that made appear
But a Fire Apple sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
Then I suddenly heard someone moaning,
Some Crazy fat Bastard, I think He's Samoan?
He pointed at his Venison engine, that looked pretty lame,
And he Cursed, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, ACID! now, mescal! now, AMYLS and COKE!
On, CANNABIS! on ETHER! on, REDS and METH, give me a toke!
Get up off your ass Or I'll slit your throats!
We got to get in before they kill us like Goats!
I would kill the rat bastard who sold me this Shit!
He sold it to me for 5 bucks a hit,
Was there really a fat Samoan outside my door?
Stinking of Vomit, and Liquor and Whores?
I was locking the doors, and grabbing my guns,
I was armed to the Teeth like some Burlesque of a HUN.
I heard a noise and I started to duck,
When out of my chimney came that crazy fat fuck!
He was dressed like some kind of Mexican pimp,
He carried a knife in his hand that was limp;
While the other one searched for a bit of support,
He took out an Amyl and started to snort.
His eyes -- they were so bloodshot! his face was so hairy!
He was like Spiro Agnew, and that's fuckin' Scary!
He had vomit and cheetos crusted to his shirt
And the beard on his chin was all full of dirt;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a crazy face and a fat fucking belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was a fat fucking bastard , a friend of Tim Leary,
I could tell by his face, cause he was weakened and weary;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread;
He stabbed at some grapefruit I had on my desk
And Grabbed an old Gym sock from my medicine chest,
He filled it up with all kinds of Drugs,
then he turned around and puked on my rug.
He crawled in his sled, and turned up the tunes,
I started shooting as he flew towards the moon,
He gave me the finger as if waving good-bye,
"YOU'RE TOO WEIRD TO LIVE! TOO RARE TO DIE!"
|
Monday, December 22, 2003
I'm a monster!
MONSTER!
A MONSTER I SAY!
Side note: I must apologize for making Andrew look like a chain-smoking, womanizing, loud mouth fanatic on my last blog entry. Sorry.
MONSTER!
|
MONSTER!
A MONSTER I SAY!
Side note: I must apologize for making Andrew look like a chain-smoking, womanizing, loud mouth fanatic on my last blog entry. Sorry.
MONSTER!
|
Sunday, December 21, 2003
This is my experience at the Bears game Sunday, December 21, 2003. I feel that as a writer, I have the right to portray incidents in any fashion I see fit. Even if it means changing a few minor, insignificant details.
Rambling Heard at the Crashed UFO:
By Robert Fernandez
It was Sunday; time to go see the Bears.
Andrew gave me a ticket and I was going to meet up with him at the stadium. I got off at the Roosevelt stop and marched with 800 people towards the big UFO that crashed in the middle of the city. The group passed a scalper and I overheard a conversation from some guys who were walking behind me.
One of the guys had a friend who got in real good with the ticket agency for the Cubs playoff game against the Marlins. His friend got a hold of 100 tickets for nearly nothing. So to make a profit, the friend tried to charge a large amount of money. The problem was that he charged too much and no one bought from him. The sad part was that all the tickets were for game 6. A historic game in Cubs history that will forever be remembered because of Bartman. I couldn't help but laugh, because on that day, which will always be remembered by everyone in Chicago, there were 100 empty seats because of some greedy asshole. 100 empty chances to be close to history.
It was a long walk, but we finally reached Mecca. I circled around 5 times, trying to find my section, but the place had a horrible guide system. I finally found my section and saw Andrew sitting alone in the seats; smoking as usual.
I called out, " Hey Andrew."
"About fuckin' time. You almost missed the fuckin' kickoff. Those bastards aren't gonna wait for you to get comfy."
I just let him talk; he really enjoys the sound of his own voice.
The game started and both teams played a hell of a first half. The wind was horrible so many punts were short and off target.
During the first quarter, a Bears player nearly got his head knocked off. I remember looking at the instant replay and screaming, "Holy shit."
"What?" Andrew turned to me.
"Didn't you see that?"
"It's fuckin' football, that's how it is."
"But no flag?"
"You're right..." At this time I started to worry about bring up the subject. Andrew just kept screaming.
"You fuckin' rat bastards. You try to pull that shit off the field. We'll take you down and squeeze your balls in a lemon vice. You hear me? I'll throw a bomb in your house at night. I hope you don't got children." I just went back to the game; Andrew knew more about the game then I did, so I let him rant on.
Somewhere around the second quarter, about 50 guys in our section kept looking back behind us. Andrew and I looked back and saw a drunk woman scrapping her ass against the glass on those fancy booths.
"Now that's some fuckin' entertainment."
"Andrew, I am appalled." I was, so I stood up in front of the crowd and tried to calm everyone down.
"What is wrong with all of you. You should be ashamed with yourselves. She is obviously drunk and you are monsters to treat her as an object." The crowd got the message, silenced and looked at their feet.
"Way to be a Buzz kill, Robert." Andrew was angry. Maybe drunk; I couldn't remember.
At halftime, I went to a stand and got two $5 hotdogs. Waste of money. I was really disappointed because I was expecting to eat the best hotdogs ever for that money. I literally expected to orgasm with pleasure from those hotdogs. The system fucked with me again.
30 seconds was left in the game; the crowd screamed with excitement because the scored was tied at 24 and it was our ball near the forty yard line, or somewhere around there. We got as close as we could to the goal line and there was 10 seconds left on the clock. They decided to kick. The crowd screamed with anger. Earlier, the kicker missed a field goal attempt from closer then he was now, so no one had high hopes.
The kick came. It was a low kick. The crowd went silent. No one was saying anything. Women stopped talking. Grown men held their breath. Babies stopped crying. It took 12 seconds for the kick to reach the posts, and the ball just barely made it and the Bears won. The stadium exploded with excitement. Everyone slapped hands. Jews and Arabs high-fived. Blacks and whites bumped chests. The Bears have won.
We both left the stadium and it took us 2 hours to reach the train stop. I rushed to make it to the train which was packed. I had to squeeze myself in and I felt like I was in Japan, mostly because there were a bunch of Asians aboard.
That's how it was. If someone says other wise, they are a liar.
On another note, I am really happy.
|
Rambling Heard at the Crashed UFO:
By Robert Fernandez
It was Sunday; time to go see the Bears.
Andrew gave me a ticket and I was going to meet up with him at the stadium. I got off at the Roosevelt stop and marched with 800 people towards the big UFO that crashed in the middle of the city. The group passed a scalper and I overheard a conversation from some guys who were walking behind me.
One of the guys had a friend who got in real good with the ticket agency for the Cubs playoff game against the Marlins. His friend got a hold of 100 tickets for nearly nothing. So to make a profit, the friend tried to charge a large amount of money. The problem was that he charged too much and no one bought from him. The sad part was that all the tickets were for game 6. A historic game in Cubs history that will forever be remembered because of Bartman. I couldn't help but laugh, because on that day, which will always be remembered by everyone in Chicago, there were 100 empty seats because of some greedy asshole. 100 empty chances to be close to history.
It was a long walk, but we finally reached Mecca. I circled around 5 times, trying to find my section, but the place had a horrible guide system. I finally found my section and saw Andrew sitting alone in the seats; smoking as usual.
I called out, " Hey Andrew."
"About fuckin' time. You almost missed the fuckin' kickoff. Those bastards aren't gonna wait for you to get comfy."
I just let him talk; he really enjoys the sound of his own voice.
The game started and both teams played a hell of a first half. The wind was horrible so many punts were short and off target.
During the first quarter, a Bears player nearly got his head knocked off. I remember looking at the instant replay and screaming, "Holy shit."
"What?" Andrew turned to me.
"Didn't you see that?"
"It's fuckin' football, that's how it is."
"But no flag?"
"You're right..." At this time I started to worry about bring up the subject. Andrew just kept screaming.
"You fuckin' rat bastards. You try to pull that shit off the field. We'll take you down and squeeze your balls in a lemon vice. You hear me? I'll throw a bomb in your house at night. I hope you don't got children." I just went back to the game; Andrew knew more about the game then I did, so I let him rant on.
Somewhere around the second quarter, about 50 guys in our section kept looking back behind us. Andrew and I looked back and saw a drunk woman scrapping her ass against the glass on those fancy booths.
"Now that's some fuckin' entertainment."
"Andrew, I am appalled." I was, so I stood up in front of the crowd and tried to calm everyone down.
"What is wrong with all of you. You should be ashamed with yourselves. She is obviously drunk and you are monsters to treat her as an object." The crowd got the message, silenced and looked at their feet.
"Way to be a Buzz kill, Robert." Andrew was angry. Maybe drunk; I couldn't remember.
At halftime, I went to a stand and got two $5 hotdogs. Waste of money. I was really disappointed because I was expecting to eat the best hotdogs ever for that money. I literally expected to orgasm with pleasure from those hotdogs. The system fucked with me again.
30 seconds was left in the game; the crowd screamed with excitement because the scored was tied at 24 and it was our ball near the forty yard line, or somewhere around there. We got as close as we could to the goal line and there was 10 seconds left on the clock. They decided to kick. The crowd screamed with anger. Earlier, the kicker missed a field goal attempt from closer then he was now, so no one had high hopes.
The kick came. It was a low kick. The crowd went silent. No one was saying anything. Women stopped talking. Grown men held their breath. Babies stopped crying. It took 12 seconds for the kick to reach the posts, and the ball just barely made it and the Bears won. The stadium exploded with excitement. Everyone slapped hands. Jews and Arabs high-fived. Blacks and whites bumped chests. The Bears have won.
We both left the stadium and it took us 2 hours to reach the train stop. I rushed to make it to the train which was packed. I had to squeeze myself in and I felt like I was in Japan, mostly because there were a bunch of Asians aboard.
That's how it was. If someone says other wise, they are a liar.
On another note, I am really happy.
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Wednesday, December 17, 2003
I found these on the internet. They're from someone named Brettzie Pie .
Dear Santa,
I wood like a kool toy space ranjur for Xmas. Iv ben a good boy all yeer.
YeR FReND,
BiLLy
Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to being a monkey trainer. How about I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger.
Santa
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love,
Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Quit smoking pot...
Santa
Dearest Santa,
We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?
Love,
Marky
Mark,
First of all, stop calling yourself "Marky" ... that's why you're getting your ass whipped at school. Secondly, you don't live in a house, that's a low-rent apartment complex you're living in. Thirdly, I get inside your pad just like all the burglars do, through your bedroom window.
Sweet Dreams!
Santa
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Dear Santa,
I wood like a kool toy space ranjur for Xmas. Iv ben a good boy all yeer.
YeR FReND,
BiLLy
Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to being a monkey trainer. How about I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger.
Santa
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love,
Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Quit smoking pot...
Santa
Dearest Santa,
We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?
Love,
Marky
Mark,
First of all, stop calling yourself "Marky" ... that's why you're getting your ass whipped at school. Secondly, you don't live in a house, that's a low-rent apartment complex you're living in. Thirdly, I get inside your pad just like all the burglars do, through your bedroom window.
Sweet Dreams!
Santa
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Tuesday, December 16, 2003
The high and beautiful wave from the weekend has quickly broke and rolled backed. I'm only 2 days in and already I'm fucked. This is the type of week one wishes would never happen. I won't be happy when it's over because I will have gone through the week first. Slowly as the week progresses, I am learning that I will never be happy.
"We're over the hump, Robert. The ride gets pretty ugly from here on in"---The Rum Diary
On a happier note, I just got that new-fangled AIM thingy. I'm heardramblings. That's all.
p.s. Go to google.com and search for "miserable failure"
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"We're over the hump, Robert. The ride gets pretty ugly from here on in"---The Rum Diary
On a happier note, I just got that new-fangled AIM thingy. I'm heardramblings. That's all.
p.s. Go to google.com and search for "miserable failure"
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Monday, December 15, 2003
So now that Saddam is captured, I have to say I am a bit depressed. When someone impersonates another, no matter how "evil", one builds a sort of respect for how that person lives. I have to admit, when I heard that Saddam was captured, a bit of my soul was in that rat-infested hole with him. So to you Saddam, I bid you luck.
Also, to Andrew "ZAM" Zamirowskiskiskiskisksisksiksi.
---------------You are a fucker if you think you can name me hero of the day on your blog. You are my
Villain of the day
Also, I realized that I am behind in my
Villain of the day
List, so now I will name them rapidly:
Burdulis--->Named person of the day
Andy Dost--->Named Hero of the day
Edwards--->Named Hero of the day
Suzie--->Named Hero of the day
Jordan--->Named Hero of the day
People at Yahoo SBC DSL--->For being complete (edited for time)...fuckers
Andrew Zamirowskiskiskiskiskisksksisksiskis--->Naming me Hero of the day
Sarah--->Naming me Hero of the day
Please! do not take this list seriously. It's a joke.
|
Also, to Andrew "ZAM" Zamirowskiskiskiskisksisksiksi.
---------------You are a fucker if you think you can name me hero of the day on your blog. You are my
Villain of the day
Also, I realized that I am behind in my
Villain of the day
List, so now I will name them rapidly:
Burdulis--->Named person of the day
Andy Dost--->Named Hero of the day
Edwards--->Named Hero of the day
Suzie--->Named Hero of the day
Jordan--->Named Hero of the day
People at Yahoo SBC DSL--->For being complete (edited for time)...fuckers
Andrew Zamirowskiskiskiskiskisksksisksiskis--->Naming me Hero of the day
Sarah--->Naming me Hero of the day
Please! do not take this list seriously. It's a joke.
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Wednesday, December 10, 2003
(Fanfare)
(Booming Voice)
Villain of the Day
Today's
Villain of the Day
is being written in the school library because my internet is down at home. So it seems reasonable to name the first
Villain of the Day
as the good people who work at Yahoo SBC DSL. That company has been fuckin' with my house and family for the past two weeks and I am fed up. Long story short, They are fuckers who can't work their product and company. That's why they are
Villains of the Day.
As the first
Villain of the Day
on my blog I thought they should get a prize, but I realized that as the
Villain of the Day
they are not entitled to anything. So along with all future participants in the
Villain of the Day
foundation, I bid thee a great time in hell. That concludes this episode of
Villain of the Day.
Log on next time when I name the next
Villain of the Day.
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(Booming Voice)
Villain of the Day
Today's
Villain of the Day
is being written in the school library because my internet is down at home. So it seems reasonable to name the first
Villain of the Day
as the good people who work at Yahoo SBC DSL. That company has been fuckin' with my house and family for the past two weeks and I am fed up. Long story short, They are fuckers who can't work their product and company. That's why they are
Villains of the Day.
As the first
Villain of the Day
on my blog I thought they should get a prize, but I realized that as the
Villain of the Day
they are not entitled to anything. So along with all future participants in the
Villain of the Day
foundation, I bid thee a great time in hell. That concludes this episode of
Villain of the Day.
Log on next time when I name the next
Villain of the Day.
|
Friday, December 05, 2003
My internet is down again, so I am typing at school:
Recap of week:
-No smiles or laughs, I get it, I'll stop
-(pow) Ow!, (pow) Ow!, (POW) OW!
-(pow) Ha!, (pow) Ha!, (POW) HA!
-Blah Blah Blah, stop yelling
-AHHH!!!
-AHHH!!!
-Let's see, I need... 20 6-volt batteries
-AHHH!!!
Also, because everyone now has this person/witty adjective of the day, I decided to start a
VILLAIN OF THE DAY
To be eligible, one must be named person/witty adjective of the day on someone else's blog, OR that person will have offended me during that day. I'm bored.
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Recap of week:
-No smiles or laughs, I get it, I'll stop
-(pow) Ow!, (pow) Ow!, (POW) OW!
-(pow) Ha!, (pow) Ha!, (POW) HA!
-Blah Blah Blah, stop yelling
-AHHH!!!
-AHHH!!!
-Let's see, I need... 20 6-volt batteries
-AHHH!!!
Also, because everyone now has this person/witty adjective of the day, I decided to start a
VILLAIN OF THE DAY
To be eligible, one must be named person/witty adjective of the day on someone else's blog, OR that person will have offended me during that day. I'm bored.
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