The truth about zombies.

Now, you all thought I was just some fantasy freak who loved the living dead. Cause I always wanted to run the Earth and survive the onslaught of the undead. But I tell you, they are REAL!

REAL I SAY!

http://www.abc.net.au/science/k2/moments/s1260445.htm

There was a case of a real live zombie. Apparently, with the right mixture of drugs, they used to inject drugs into people, bury them, and dig them up later and sell them off for slave labour. I'm excited. I wanna be the jerk to make the first bloodthirsty zombie to plague the Earth.

More Zombie.

How come whenever there's some slow fucked up zombie with half of his thigh missing who is chasing some chick, always manages to catch up. He's limping and falling over and using trees to balance himself, and the chick is running like mad, jumping over fallen trees all swiftly. And somehow, everytime she looks over her shoulder he's right fuckin there. Everytime. Or if she trips, shes fucked, he got her, even though its been about 5 minutes of running scenes. Kiss your neck goodbye sister. And they're always wearing high heels. My kingdom to see a chick in sneakers one of these times. Or a marathon runner. And why the fuck does her shoe keep falling off. Or tripping and breaking her ankle. Or realizing OH FUCK, I ran like a coward while my brother was over there fighting off a pack of those things, and running back. I think though, in Night of the Living Dead, the black guy had the right idea. I think he had some zombie strategy formulated long before the radioactive outbreak of the walking dead. I can imagine him sitting in his basement with only one dimly lit candle flickering while he's jotting down strategies against the rotting cadavres. There was only one thing he didn't do, but I REALIZED the trick. IT'S SO BLATANTLY OBVIOUS. Okay, so zombies always break into the houses cause there's so many of them and there's no way they can defend against them all. Going into the house was the first mistake they made. And I'll tell you why. Zombies, alone, are useless. They are slow, weak, and unable to stand properly. But in packs, your ass is as good as eaten. So why didn't he just fuck each one up individually before they grouped up? He knew they were afraid of fire, why not just make a torch from a branch, catch their clothes on fire and beat the fuck out of them when they're all freaked out. It's BULLETPROOF! The best strategy is to stay in the open and move around, cause it's only in the movies that they're always right behind you.

In the case of a zombie outbreak, I think you all know who to call.

And don't fuckin say GHOSTBUSTERS. That's the lamest shit in the history of ever.

I like my pigeons well done.

So I was eating a couple hot dogs and debating whether or not to celebrate my completion of school by watching night of the living dead or playing resident evil 1. Ah such a blissfully simple life I lead. Or will be leading anyways. So I'm gonna sit myself down to a nice cozy night of eating meat and watching manslaughter and bloodshed in its most amusing form. Happy Trails everyone!! :) :) :)



Mr. Jingles owns all you mere mortals.

Crazy, and all those in relation.

So someone called me crazy the other day. Now I thought to myself, the word crazy is really thrown around a lot these days, what the devil did she mean by it? Lets analyze a definition shall we?

cra·zy ( P ) Pronunciation Key (krz)adj. cra·zi·er, cra·zi·est
Affected with madness; insane.
Informal. Departing from proportion or moderation, especially:
Possessed by enthusiasm or excitement: The crowd at the game went crazy.
Immoderately fond; infatuated: was crazy about boys.
Intensely involved or preoccupied: is crazy about cars and racing.
Foolish or impractical; senseless: a crazy scheme for making quick money.

Now, when it comes to foolish or impractical or senselessness, I'm not sure that's my scene. Oh sure, everyone is a little off the mark from time to time, and they all sometimes contemplate killing the neighbours dog when he's barking and they need some quiet time every once in a while because I'm an introvert.

I suppose I'm intensely preoccupied with stuff. I was called crazy upon saying that I would go back to the downward spiral of last summer by not sleeping at all and staying up all night making dolls. But you never know.

I'm not crazy about boys. That definition has it all wrong, I swear.

As for the madness and insanity of it, that's just plain wrong. I'm not insane, everyone else is insane and they're all after my magic bag.

Especially those leprechauns, those fuckers are always trying to steal my lucky charms.
And don't even get me STARTED on the Trix rabbit.

Don't even go there.

F@#$!

Fiya.

Shedding season sucks balls really fuckin bad. I just went to scratch my face and I came off with a huge ball of cat hair. My eyes are irritated, I look like I have pink eye. At this time of year, I can safely say I am not hairless and fancy free.

Dipsomania

Okay.

So I know I haven't made any posts for a while. Meanwhile everyone else is. This is due to the fact that every day is the exact same, being just another long listless day at the office. I promise you though, shit will go down soon.

As for those of you taunting me with your tomfoolerys and fun and games I SMITE you! The following includes:

1) Talking about resident evil: damn it damn it damn it, I wanna play so bad, I took out RE1 the other night and just looked at it for like 20 minutes debating whether or not I should start the zombie addiction now or later. And if it starts now, I know I won't get any work done and I'll get fucked. But if I play now, I get to kill ZOMBIES!!!!! In a brutal and bloodthirsty way no less. Drool, drool. I envy your 10 hour period of unrestrained, immoderate zombie self-indulgence Natalie.

2) Telling me you finished school today and you've been drunk since 1 pm. Curses to you too Dan. When I finish, I'll be gone before I leave the building at 11 am. So screw you too! (Grr.)

As you can see, it is getting exceedingly difficult for me to concentrate on finishing my year. Frustration and confusion are the two most frequent occurences. Today I argued about canoes. Why the fuck was I? God only knows (Not that there is a god or anything, I just need an example of someone who would know). I apologized minutes afterwards realizing what a fuck-up I've become. This is why I've labelled this blog as Dipsomania. If you're so inclined to know what it means, look it up. Until the day when I get to cure that bad crazyness, I will continue being the fuck-up that I am now. 4 days left.

Hola!

So the spanish people havent left me alone yet. The list is now at 6 and increasing steadily. I have realized that they dont understand what I'm saying so I can say whatever I want:


AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
podes decirme en castellano lo que me estas dicien no te entiendo nada
fox. ¡Yo no hablo español! says:
for the last time, i dont fuckin understand what you are saying to me
fox. ¡Yo no hablo español! says:
leave me alone
AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
como te llamas??

I thought this would at least get them to stop talking but no to avail. It was at this point where I asked Dan the Freshman to lend me a hand.

AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
hola quien eres?
Daniel says:
senorita how much
AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
que no entiendo NADA?

Daniel says:
how much
AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
HAY POR FAVOR HABLAME EN CASTELLANO PORQ INGLES NO SE NADA'
Daniel says:
pardon
AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
QUE DANIEL SOS???

Daniel says:
ne parlez vous francis
AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
QUE DANIEL SOS?
AGUANTE:¡¡¡KALIMOTXO 2MIL5!!! says:
QUE?
Daniel says:
dui

We are going right the fuck to hell. No detours.

How to maintain one's sanity.

Well, I'm sure that many of you have questioned it. Here's my tips

1. Maintain a steady diet of cold milk and fudgee-o's.
2. If you can't sleep at night, take up sewing.
3. Rather than act crazy, take it out on your body and grow big old nasty rings under your eyes.
I think Edward Carey illustrates this for us.

What a spooky looking fellow. Someday my rings will be twice as heavy as thou Ed. (To those interested, he wrote a dark book called "Observatory Mansions". Cool read. I suggest it.)

4. Take up blog writing.

A good drum break.

I miss writing random meaningless crap about my day so fuck it, I'll keep doing it.
I had a strange dream last night and I can only wonder what it means. I was at my cottage with someone (I don't remember who but I remember it was one of my old old friends) and we were fishing, and I decided to go into a small pond that is filled with tiny fish, cause I wanted to catch them with my hands, and put them in a little plastic bag and take them home and fry them and eat them like popcorn...


...Anyways...


I went into the pond (Fuck I remember who it was now, this guy at my old job. He was a funny guy. I worked in a food store and he worked in the produce section. Everytime I went there, he was eating something and throwing shit around. There was one day when he was throwing watermelons as far as he could, another day where he was throwing produce knives around. Those things are damn sharp. Sometimes we smoked pot at work. He was a funny guy. Joseph, I think his name was. How neither one of us got fired is beyond me.)

Anyways, I'm drabbling on again. So I go into this pond, and I cup my hands to catch fish and I get a whole handful, but they all drain out and I look at my hands and they're covered with ticks. I was like sweet fucking jesus get these beasts off of me. But many of them had burrowed under my skin and my hands began to turn purple and black. Jo started to get the same problem. It was at this point where I jumped out of the pool, and ran like the dickens into a general direction, it doesn't matter which one, and the dream ended.

So I have this dream book that tells you what some things mean (because all my dreams are all fucked up and I usually want to know what they mean) so here's what the book's diagnosis is for today:

Ticks

To dream you see ticks crawling on your flesh, is a sign of impoverished circumstances and ill health. Hasty journeys to sick beds may be made.
To mash a tick on you, denotes that you will be annoyed by treacherous enemies.
To see in our dreams large ticks on stock, enemies are endeavoring to get possession of your property by foul means.

Yea thats complete bullshit, I know. But sometimes they're right. Just like the horoscopes getting lucky sometimes. So WATCH OUT EVERYONE, for I am a spreader of pestilence. You heard the book.
And enemies are gonna steal shit from me, 0o0o0o0o0o0o look out. It's about time I get to use the old Louisville slugger.

Vacation from me.

For the next two weeks, don't expect me to make any posts. I might but I probably won't. Unless of course something totally ridiculous happens to me in which case I'll be forced to write about it. Good luck on exams everyone.

Work of art?...or crazy purple KNOCKOUT GAS!!!

Face of a deviant.
I'm finding a direct correlation between him drinking out of the toilet and licking my face/licking my breakfast while my back is turned/drinking out of my drinks/being a bastardly kitty. I'm going through toothpaste by the tube here.

Only 198 days left!

Yea, I found the archive of our halloween pumpkin pictures from last year, although they turned out crappy cause I was drunk at the time and the camera wasn't that great. So I will share my early halloween.

Here's Edward



Here's the Oogey Bogey man, didn't do a good job carving him though.



I'm proud of my orange children.

To HELL if I shall be forever taunted by water cubes.

So me and my partner in crime were talking the other night, and she brought to my attention that in the South, they serve milk with ice cubes. Now I thought there for a second, what the FUCK? Ice cubes? That's just not right. For I have tried this, and it loosely fulfills the milky essence of milk. Makes it all...watery. Not cool. So we decided that it would be best if I tried to fix this problem. Summer is coming up, and when I'm chillin' poolside with my milk and cookies, I want that shit to stay COLD. I apologize for the poor quality. I must invest in a camera.

So here we go.

Typical breakfast?



Or genius at work?



Yes, it is possible my friends. We all thought I was crazy and all fucked up, but IT CAN WORK! I present moloko cubes.



Yes, milk does actually freeze. Yes, milk does actually remain in it's full cube form. It does NOT crumble ladies and gentlemen. And it tastes like milk. Not some fucked up frozen concoction. It's all kosher baby.



Got milk?

Some of the letters began falling off the page.

At this particular point in time, I lack the motivation and creative integrity to write something. I am in a blank state of mind.


So I'll just post this short story I wrote a while back.


Meow.

Feb. 5 – Lunchtime – Under a bed

I have decided to log my plans concerning my escape in this journal. By doing so, I can easily review past experiences and perhaps even escape this prison. My master (well, she likes to call herself master) has proposed that my new alias will now be Oscar, to ensure that my real identity will not be discovered. Since the day of my escape from the “pet store” (which I find to be a strange name for a concentration camp), the wretched master has had it out for me. I must make it my primary objective to dispose of this evil dictator and either escape or gain control of this facility. I shall soon prove victorious. Soon all will kneel before Oscar. Hail Oscar.

Feb. 6 – 12:47 AM – Main hallway

My attempts of choking her in her sleep have proven futile. By the time I had found my way onto her face, she had thrown me out of her sleeping quarters and cursed my name. I loathe such moments. But no matter. I shall find a new course of annoyance. Perhaps I shall leave a freshly produced pile of feces at the base of the stairwell for her to aimlessly step into after awakening. Humans can be so stupid.

Feb. 6 – 2:00 PM – Under a covered table

My tongue sterilization procedures have been noticed. It appears that I am consequentially surrounded by filth after every cleaning session. Those filthy humans live like unkempt swine, who have managed to defile each square inch of the area. They are just riddled with germs. It was not until I finished my cleansing routine that the evil one had made a grab for me. Before I could find a chance to escape her clutches, she captured me and introduced a new form of germ warfare. It appears by cradling me, she can further the spread of harmful bacterium which could become the end of me. I felt so befouled afterwards. My tongue still burns from the removal of those harmful toxins. I must be extremely careful. They’re all around me. The germs are everywhere.

Feb. 7 – 5:00 PM – Washroom

The girl shows new forms of torment. However, they are now so evil, and yet so ingenious, that not even a mind as complex as my own could have conceived them. She has begun using a different form of water torture on me, except this time it now involves a burning liquid known as “shampoo”. As this liquid does give off a pleasant aroma, it must be some sort of alluring bait to encourage me to cooperate with the procedure. It is difficult to determine what the purpose of this procedure is exactly (aside from the sheer cruelty of it), but I will discover it (whatever it may be). I shall look into that at a later time though. For now, I must focus on my current mission, which is to determine what the girl’s main weakness is. I shall proceed with this task by scouting out the grounds tomorrow. As for now, I should gather as much rest as I possibly can, for tomorrow will be a wearisome day.

Feb. 8 – 7:00 PM – In a cardboard box

After long hours of careful examination, I have found that humans require to constantly feed. I have noted that such meals may consist of “apple pie”, “sandwiches” and many other ridiculous edibles that are contained beyond the mess hall doors. Although I am forbidden to enter the hall, I have made it my decision to raid and destroy every foodstuff that is held in the area during the night. Once she has become stricken with the sudden vanishing of her supplies, I will make my move and I shall be rid of this horrid place forever.

Feb. 9 – 11:00 AM – Basement

Curse this ever hungry stomach of mine. The girl must have been one step ahead of me again. Upon my arrival in the supply room, a beloved yet somewhat familiar smell had found its way to my nostrils. Tuna. A large bowl of tuna surprise to be precise. Waiting for me at the entrance. It couldn’t have been just coincidence. She had to have known. At that point, I completely forgot my entire mission and spent the night devouring this tuna composition. It was to my demise that I discovered that the tuna dish had been tainted, and I spent the night in agony. She found me this morning passed out on the supply room floors, in a most haggard state. Fortunately for me, I have recovered from whatever poison that was set in the trap, but that still didn’t save me from the evil one’s wrath. She immediately relocated me to the disciplinary cell for my insolence. It is here that I write this and it is here that I plan my final attempts for escape.

Feb. 9 – 4:00 PM – Living room

Upon my release from the containment cell, I happened to overhear a conversation that the evil one was having into the telephone. I am unsure why, but I was certain that she was talking about me. From what I could pick out, it seems that I am to be transferred to a high-security prison known as “the vet”. In a desperate attempt to halt this conversation, I leapt at was seemed to be the passage in which her voice was carried, but it seemed that this “phone cord” had a life of its own. I nearly escaped its entanglement before I noticed that the girl had stopped speaking. I fear that my time has come. I am afraid to imagine what diabolical plans the evil one has in store.

Feb.11 – 10:30 AM – Behind a couch

I woke up this morning in a rather weakened state, not remembering what had happened the day before. I’m afraid that my memory may have been erased. I must have been close to discovering whatever it was that I was looking for. Until my mind becomes operative again, I am extremely vulnerable to attack, so I must remain in my hiding place until I feel that I have recovered.

Feb. 11 – 2:00 PM – Behind a couch

I have begun to remember my time of transfer. The terrible things that I have been through are much too tyrannical for even imagination to conceive. I was first transported to the institution in a box that I nearly suffocated in, and once I arrived, I was pushed into a cramped cage. A cage! Smelling of excrement no less. From every angle around me, I could hear the tortured cries of pain and anguish that were coming from my other fellow comrades who have been taken prisoner. It was not until a few hours later that I was escorted to the room of unnecessary surgery. At that point, my memory tends to get a bit foggy, which worries me since I have never suffered memory loss before. I am afraid that I may be suffering from permanent brain damage. And what’s worse is I discovered that my weapons of self-defence have been confiscated, leaving me with a nasty scar on each paw. I am now defenceless. She has me right where she wants me. Now that the evil one has medical science on her side, I fear that I am outmatched. I must resort to desperate measures.

Feb. 12 – 12:30 PM – Beneath the stairway

I have concluded that the only way for me to make my move is to gain the evil one’s trust. By caressing myself against her and also sleeping in her presence, it seems that I am continuously rewarded with small, strangely appetizing treats. It may take a fair bit of time, but if I continue this misleading treatment, she may let her guard down just long enough for me to make a final attack. But that doesn’t matter to me. I have time...



...I have all the time in the world.

The essence of sapphire.

Last night, my dad got home and opened his briefcase, pushing a strange looking bottle towards me.

(Excuse the bloody plate in the background)

So he said its "Essence of Sapphire" or some shit, and this holistic lady gave it to him. He was talking about me and how I'm about to write all these exams and she said this would help.

He gave it to me and I analyzed it in the light. It had that swirly sorta look to it, that alcohol has. When he wasn't looking, I took a slug from it, and it didn't taste too bad. Sort of metallic like but nothing bad. I've tasted worse.

So it's sitting here now and I drank a bit more of it, and nothing fuckin happened. I swear this shit is so fake. I'm disappointed. I was hoping I could go into those exams with this shit and rape each one. Damnit, looks like it's back to honesty for me

But, for serious, anything that comes in a dropper bottle I just don't trust altogether.

It's impossible to be funny with this damn bat on my neck.

On the macroscopic level of things, I'm sure that ugly people would just be too small to notice.

Cheap laugh.

I opened my email and Little sent me this link. It was found a long time ago and it's still somehow morbidly funny.

http://www.xsunderground.com/thechilde/

I dunno if it's funny because of pity or just the picture or the voice. But each piece is as necessary as any other.

Don't forget to turn up your volume nice and loud for mum to hear.

I wanna play with the shiny tools.

I was watching my dad cut off the old branches from our trees this morning while I was eating.

With a chainsaw.

Oh god how I want to play with that tool. I think if I was left alone for an infinite amount of time in a forest with a chainsaw and gas, I'd either cut down the whole forest or, mistakenly, myself.

They look so fun! and shiny! and dangerous!

I should never be allowed to touch one.

Sails.

The ships set their sails tonight
as the sun sinks behind the bay.
If you only were as before,
You wouldn't have driven me away.

Keep my absence close
for it is all left to save,
As my life and soul
Is cast by that last wave.

Cousin of Eek.

When I sit I'm restless, but when I stand I'm patient. My life was once full of hope and promise but I now feel empty. My friends have not yet succumbed to my present state, although I'm more than sure that they will one day. Although this will end one day when all hope and promise returns, I stand here alone, with the others who feel the same way.

Who am i?

Eek.

You can watch, I don't mind.

You never quite enjoyed it, especially when you were not interested in the first place. You wish you were since you had no intention in treating it like cellophane, even though you would anyways. The shrill cry from a single violin echoed from across the hallway, accompanied by an awkward and seemingly misplaced accordion. No windows. No doors. No escape. However, you were never interested in escaping, but getting there in the first place. You would occasionally step over a ticket stub. And as you get closer to the sound of this short lived tone, styrofoam cups litter the floor. Only one is sitting upright.

Where am i?

Sometimes I dance with my cat.

I was eating a tuna fish sandwich over the sink the other day (I know, I'm pure bachelor. Women would be disgusted if they ever saw me eat.), and I thought to myself "What about those guys who have those spinning fan thingies in the sink. Food disposals, or whatever they are. They'd eat full fuckin' meals there. The word etiquette would have no place in that house. I fear for the marital statuses of those with food disposal units in their sinks. What if everyone had one? Would women just adapt? Or would there be an anarchy of food disposals? The world would collapse.

The dinosaurs would roam again!!!!!!!!

No jesus, no love ---

It was another long, hard, tiresome Friday. I had settled myself into a dreary state of self indulgence with my psychology book in hand and I figured the subway ride home would be a long, tyrannous one, so I did a bit of last second reading while my brain was still in its half fast function mode. It was to my dismay however, after putting my feet up on the seats in front of me, when I was confronted by a man. He approached me quickly at first, but I had not paid much attention to him, for I was indulging myself with personality traits and the like. He sat down in the seats which my feet rested upon, so I took them down and studied him quizzically. He had several metal bars through each ear, wide open eyes, a receding hairline. I could tell this guy was a night hawk, amongst the best of them. He had a book with the words "No jesus, no love --" on the cover. I thought jesus fucking christ how do these creeps keep finding me? Am I a marked man? Is this God's way of saying something? His last resort; to throw a bunch of half stoned preachers cracked on acid and who knows, maybe several other hallucinogens. Coming here to attempt to release the dogs on me in a last desperate attempt to rid me of my demons. Well I bid those bastards good luck, cause they have no idea what they're getting themselves into.

"Do you believe in god man?" I thought about this question for a second and what the possible consequences would be if I had said no. I wasn't about ready to have some fucked up junkie spraying me with holy water, casting ten hail mary's on my ass and then telling god that we're even. No, I just strictly did not have the energy for it. I lied to him and told him I didn't know what I believed in. "You look like a smart guy (he said this eyeing my psychology textbook), are you a smart guy, making all the right decisions?" I lied to him and said I was. "Do you get along well with both your parents? Your mom?" I lied to him and told him I did. "Are you mild mannered? Do you get angry often?" I lied and said I'm all cool. I glanced out the subway window, noticing that, fuck, I still have several stops to get past until mine. I hope to fuck that this guy does not get off at my stop. "So tell me, I don't know much about science. Men have testosterone, right? And women have estrogen, right? Could you sort of tell me what the purposes of these chemicals are to the human body?" I told him. "Men and women, they balance each other out chemically don't they? It makes it seem like everything in this world is in perfect balance." Holy fucking christ, I thought to myself, he had this all neatly organized out, didn't he? I began to wonder how long he's been practicing this speech in front of the mirror, trying to get the right facial expressions down. I must admit, he looked pretty serious what with his wide eyes and grave tone. Either that or he was baked out of his mind, I wasn't at all too sure. "You're a smart guy, I know you're gonna be thinking about this on the way home. That's how you are man, I can tell. Always thinking." He nailed me. I showed a glimpse of a smirk which wanted to evolve into a laugh, but I wouldn't let it. That's exactly what these type of swine want, a visible weakness. "I have a friend of mine, majoring in physics, tells me the craziest things, this guy is so smart, talking about photons and reflections as if they were everyday stuff." I told him that was my major as well, trying to hold back from saying they were everyday things. "Man, you can be the next Einstein man. You can do it." I told him you never know. "EXACTLY MAN! You never know. Exactly." He had just started to get up, which I was glad for, because my consistent shuffling of bags, and packing up of books was not appearing to show any affects of discomfort on his part. The subway car was slowing down, it was reaching my stop, and yet I felt a little upset that I was unable to dip into this man's intervention a little deeper. The monotonic beep sounded and the doors had opened. I gathered my bags and took one last look at my preacher, and as I walked my way through those doors, I could hear the words "God bless you all", riding the air as the doors closed behind me.

Fortelling dissensions and quarrels.

Lately, I've been having difficulty controlling the level of neural activity going on in my sleep. Every night, I'm being flooded with dreams, vivid in detail, and I can't help but wonder if my mind is trying to tell me something. Usually, by usually I mean through my lifetime, I get something like this every week or month or so, but not every day like now. I'd like to write what I dreamt about but I just can't remember because I never really made an effort to. But from those I can remember from early childhood, there was the one where every night for a week I dreamt that Rob the Robot (from Lost in Space, heh heh heh) was chasing me through my house and trying to kill me. The dream would end with me hiding in my closet and it finally tearing me apart. Yea it was pretty bad to repetitively dream about that for a week but fortunately, after a week, I managed to slip a baseball bat into my dream closet and I ended up giving Rob a lick of the ol' Louisville Slugger (I've always secretly wanted someone to break into my house just so I can have an excuse to use it. Sadly, that probably won't happen). Then the dreams stopped. Then there was one, shortlived mind you, where I walked out of my front door, and I was confronted with Mr. Rogers. He told me he wanted me to be his neighbour. Being petrified of this man at the time, I turned around towards the door where another Mr. Rogers stood, also asking me to be his neighbour. Another one jumped out of the bushes, and another was on the roof of my house. They flooded in from virtually everywhere.

And they ALL wanted to be my neighbour...

...Every one of them.

iSocks

Stink different.

E=mc^2

So, I'm sitting there, studying for my 4th physics test, looking at past questions and working on my equation sheet. I write on it, right down to the bar, chalk full of equations, famous physicists, and definitions.



But then I thought "Hey, wait a second. This isn't my style." So I took a long hard glance at all these equations and graphs and nonsense and thought am I really going to need all this in the test? Of course not. It was at this point, when I completely filled the opposite side, with stick people. Normally, of course, people would continue to fill this space with examples, and more equations. But I, the proud physicist that I am, proceeded to draw dancing stick people.



So, my good people, I pass on this great piece of knowledge to you, and it is don't waste your time with shit you don't need. My men of stick are a proud example of space that has no use aside from doodles.

Yea, go atheists.

You scored as atheism. You are... an atheist, though you probably already knew this. Also, you probably have several people praying daily for your soul. Instead of simply being "nonreligious," atheists strongly believe in the lack of existence of a higher being, or God. atheism 96% Satanism 96% Paganism 79% Buddhism 71% Judaism 54% agnosticism 54% Islam 38% Christianity 29% Hinduism 17% Which religion is the right one for you? (new version) created with QuizFarm.com damn thats pretty bad...96% for both satanism and atheism If there was a hell, I'd be going there for sure.

The invaluable spleen.

My thoughts towards world domination by felines were insignificant until today. It was not until I desired a moment of peace and solitude for myself that in strolled my shadow. He is everywhere. In the morning, as I roll from side to side in a discomfort of waking, I can sometimes feel his gelatinous body changing form as I roll over him. When I shower, he breaks in and waits. When I eat, he glares attentively. And when I study, he makes noise. It's obvious what he's trying to do here. He's trying to study my habits. Although, it would be folly of him to do so, unless he has communication to the outside world, which I am uncertain about whether or not he can communicate with his fellow kittens. Oh, I'm sure it sounds ridiculous. Kittens and whatnot...a THREAT. HA! Yes, they want to lure you into a sense of false security. What with those ignorant fools with their OOOO's and AWWWW SO CUTE's. Yes, the cat's love it when they see this. It means they are in dominant control. However, today I discovered this pattern and locked the door, with him on the other side. He banged and thudded and ran against it, meowing and hollering to come inside. This may be what he wants, for me to be cornered in a position of total helplessness, but it is not I who am crazy, it is I who am mad. For the know-how of day to day life shall no longer be his for manipulation. He can throw his own toys around from now on. For I now know, they are only tools for wear, to deplete me of energy, to bring me to a state of ease. I can see him now, peering around the corner, using only one eye. Oh dont think I can't see you. Yeah, I'm looking at you.

That's right. Walk away.