| (no subject) |
[Nov. 21st, 2006|02:26 pm] |
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So, looks like myspace won the war of the blogosphere then? |
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| e-bligations, illness, foetal apocalypse |
[Jul. 24th, 2006|05:57 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sick | ] |
I haven't posted since 19 ODD SIX. Yeah that's right you remember, the analysis of the rising price of corn in a rapidly globalizing economy. That was what first bought me my commission if I recall correctly. First I will respond to my e-bligation by posting one of those horrible 'zogm post it 2 ur LJ lol' things.
If you comment on this post:
1. I’ll respond with something random about you
2. I’ll challenge you to try something
3. I’ll pick a color that I associate with you
4. I’ll tell you something I like about you
5. I’ll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I’ll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I’ll ask you something I’ve always wanted to ask you
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on yours
Warning: The above may be a complete lie wherein I do not respond to your comment in any way whatsoever, at all, not in the slightest.
Also a brief statistical analysis of the productiveness of being home sick.
Number of assignments I probably should be working on: 4
Of those number I should definately be working on: 1.5
Non school-related things I *should* be writing: 2
Hours spent staring at ceiling cracks: 2
Cracks counted: 28
Times counted: God only knows
(This IS an important one) Wow played (hours:minutes:seconds): 0:0:0
Ability to think (out of 10): 4
Mindless crap watched: <---------------------------------------------> that much
I would also like to take this opportunity to inform the citizens of the internets as to a danger lurking withing their own home. It could be in your fridge RIGHT NOW!
"It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single moon in possession of a good planet, must be in want of a plot."
And so it is. Since the dawn of time mankind has known that the moon is made of the finest (but perhaps not only the finest) of a certain dairy product. Yes, Cheese. In fact this rich natural resource has been a positive boon to humanity. But perhaps even before the dawn of cheese, proto-hominids gazed upwards and said to themselves "there's some cheeky little beggar up there in the moon there is!". That's right the man in the moon. So what can we draw from this?
1) Moons are known plotters.
2) The moon is made of cheese.
3) There is a 'man' in the moon.
4) All cheese is sourced directly from the moon.
Therefore it is reasoned that the man in the moon (the very essence of the moon itself) is a plotter. His domain is the source of all of our cheese.
Now what plot would a devious mind which inhabited the world's source of cheese concoct? Something involving cheese of course! And it was me, ME who discovered the plot! That's right, right now inside your cheese products tiny man-in-the-moon offspring are plotting our demise! They escape at night leaving only fine quality (and not so fine quality) dairy products behind. These foetus moon cheese children are converging on a location where they will fuse together into an almighty cheese beast to destroy us all for the glory of their all seeing moon daddy! Sources currently indicate a subterranean location under Tokyo city. That's right, RIGHT NOW CHEESY FOETAL MOON CHILDREN ARE PLOTTING YOUR DOOM! But we can stop this scourge.
All I ask is that you microwave each and every single cheese product in your house on high for at least 20 minutes to ensure their deaths. This is a menace not to be underestimated. Don't have a microwave? Start a fire, use a flame thrower, cut slices and use the toaster. Either way the foetal cheesy moon children must be stopped, burn them, burn them all! |
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| Technological Deicide. |
[Jun. 11th, 2006|12:18 am] |
On the subject of why God has not been active of late. It has often been remarked upon that in thee days God seems strangely absent from the lives of men. Many have claimed that this lack of divine intervention or inspiration is proof of His non-existance. But it is not so. I have found the reason. God is powerless in our modern world the reason for this can be traced to a certain biblical passage which I shall reproduce here as it appears in the King James edition.
Judges 1:19
And the LORD was with Judah; and he drave out the inhabitants of the mountain; but could not drive out the inhabitants of the valley, because they had chariots of iron.
Clearly then God is powerless against chariots of iron, they impair His influence. Now take a look at our modern world. What do you see almost everywhere? Cars, our chariots of iron.
Just think about that for a moment. Because of this God is powerless the whole world round. As far as we are concerned God is dead!
In this our age of patent new inventions,
We have killed Our Lord,
With the best of intentions.
No wonder God is gone from our world, 'tis from our own folly! We must destroy these evil objects that The Lord can reign once more! |
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| The end of days is upon us! (based on a true story) |
[May. 24th, 2006|06:16 pm] |
On this day a prophet of doom arrived at the door, I was attempting to learn mathematics at the time. And lo he did request to speak to me privately. Stop now he did say unto me, stop ere you destroy us all. That jacket which you wear said he, tis not solely a jacket, oh no. Tis an artifact of great destruction and power, through its wearing you have already ruined christmas for the entire Western world, stolen money from the mouths of starving orphans in third world and before, just moments ago when you inserted your right arm into the sleeve you destroyed much of lower Mongolia.
Such destruction sickens me said he, you breach the code, the geneva convention, you sir are an international war criminal. Tis just as the prophecy doth say, he continued then to inform me of this same prophecy.
And lo twas written: A jacket shall come into this world. 'Twill be an object of great power, but also of great evil, it shall spread destruction wherever it goes. The very image of this world shall be shattered by its power. The wearer shall find it clear that tis their fault that such destruction is wrought. But 'twill not be the wearer who so suffers, nay, 'twill be this worlds less privileged, the poor, the afflicted and the downtrodden.
There are some that would attempt to punish the wearer of this jacket, but no, I say that knowing, knowing, what it is that you do should be punishment enough. You sir, by your actions do you doom us all, because of you orphans die in the streets, because of you the elderly sleep in gutters, their money stolen away. The jacket, take it off, take it off, wear it not again lest your damnation be assured.
But lo I didst gaze upon the glory of the holy book and study it well, and I saw not mention of this jacket, nor of its powers. And so do I say unto this prophet, take thee thy tidings of doom and misfortune and insert them. |
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| X_washing.core_X |
[Apr. 11th, 2006|09:20 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | ANGST | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Funeral For My Chemically Induced Transvestite Romance | ] |
ohmigod my mum made me do the washing up. and this was no ordinary washup either dood, it was liek full hXc. This is typical kind of shit that happens to me ever since I didn't get the to use the wooden horse at kindergarten this kind of shit just happens. Washing up is destroying my life, my gf broek up wit me cos she said I didn't spent enuff time with her, it wuz all cos of the amount of washin up my parents make me do. srsly i spend my hole life washin up... but there is 1 advangtage. washing up s0 much has made me even mroe hXc srsly I am fully washing.core now I will fscking smash and konts who try to fite me cause I am washing-fucking-core.
you can't hurt me any more
because I'm washing-fucking-core
Don't even wet the floooor
cause I'm washing.cooor, washing cooor
just so much washing I thought I'd drooown,
your smile is just my frown upside down
You left me for washing dirty dishes
pulled down by washing I lie in my paaaain
well the sea is full of other fishes
and I can wash(ing) you right down the draaain
because I'm washing core
and you can't hurt me any more
washing-fucking-core
I'll throw you straight out the door
That door that always brings the caaarrt
that cart that made you break my heeeaaart
loaded with washing it's just hxtreeeme
my heart broke dropped jsut like a dropped plaaate
my tears flow like the dishwater in a steady streeeam
and when you're washing.core that's the kind of shit you just don't taaake
just don't taaake
but you can't hurt me anymore
because I'm washing-fucking-core
don't even wet the floooor
cause I'm waaaashing cooore |
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| Why Kyle's font won't get smaller |
[Mar. 31st, 2006|07:34 pm] |
Q: Why won't Kyle's font get smaller?
A: The answer to this is far from simple, Kyle is unbenknowingly using one of the 7 mystical fonts. Fonts of such unimaginable power that you cannot imagine it. These fonts are fickle in their ways. They will randomly decide to visit Alice's Wonderland and choose to eat and drink various things that instruct them to do so. This engorged textual appearance is as a result of one of the mystical travelling fonts getting stuck somewhere after eating a mushroom and being unable to find anything to drink to decrease its size. This could happen to anyone at anytime if they chance to use a mystical travelling font. It is up to us to increase awareness. Go forth and spread the word! |
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| A forgotten portion of the Mice Saga. |
[Mar. 22nd, 2006|09:26 pm] |
It occurs to me that while recounting the saga of the mice and the oven I didst neglect a key point. There was found some time ago in the washing machine an item of clothing and quoth my father
"Becca you have a shirt in the drier"
And she was heard to reply
"Umm, this is not a shirt. Tis in fact a long black dress and not in fact mine"
Twas indeed a most curious thing. Various scandalous accusation were hurled at me in an attempt to blemish my character. I stood firm against this onslaught of untruth and emerged mostly unscathed.
There is but one logical conclusion, the mice have evolved to such a level that they wear black dresses. Long black dresses. There taste in evening-wear tells me much, they have grown a CULTURE. They've been going. To. The. Opera. This revelation is both horrifying and will take your arm right off. But, worse than that, the mice plant these dresses in an attempt to create chaos. however all this leaves out perhaps the most worrying point. our mice are at least 5 feet high. |
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| Milk Posse! |
[Feb. 23rd, 2006|07:48 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Milk posse (biensur!) | ] |
And Lo I didst complete the rap of the Milk Posse. It came to me in my sleep and I woke up giggling like an idiot and then wrote it down.
Milk Posse
We’re the milk posse we’re the posse of milk
You ain’t never again gonna see our ilk
Everybody in the house give it up now
Cause I’m talking ‘bout milk that comes from a cow
(this is the chorus ^ up there ^)
We’ve got a habit you might find it scary
We’re into a product that comes from your dairy
You say that milk ain’t hardcore Nigga please
You know what bitch; you can make it into cheese
(chorus)
We’re the milk posse and we rule these streets
We use our milk to make delicious ice treats
Our posse’s more dangerous than a missile silo
You want our milk to use in your milo
(chorus)
You threaten us say you’ll make our face ache
But you’ll be back for milk when you’re baking a cake
You got your nine messin’ with someone’s features
Well I’ve got a two and I’m talkin’ litres
(for 'rap battle' purposes)
I’ve got a proclamation say it to the nation
Rap ain’t music it’s an abomination
You better find something better to do wit’ your spare time
Cause there ain’t no skill in bustin’ a rhyme
The "for rap battle" section refers to the 'rap battle' which the school which I have the vague misfortune to attend seems to hold on occassion. If it wasn't ENTIRELY clear from the rap itself I DO NOT LIKE RAP. Just to clarify that point you understand. |
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| I don't think the good people of Chef accounted for the chance of rodent sabotage. |
[Jan. 23rd, 2006|08:31 pm] |
Yes tis true. The stove is gradually dying. It is a such an easy thing to fall, yet so much harder to prop the fucking thing up with a brick after bashing it in with a lump hammer and THEN you realise that the brick isn't high enough and... But the point is the mice have taken over where the rats left off. They squeak merrily as this once proud piece of culinary technology falls into decay and ruin. Do they realise that doing this brings their own DAMNATION? for on to of the stove lurks the microwave, and in there, who can say? These are no ordinary mice. They are immune to Ratsak. They move at super speed. Yes, they can outrun the Flash. What's more they're plotting. And not just plotting either. Scheming. My sister will no longer stay at home alone, she realises that being the smallest she is easy prey. As I type I can see not one but 2 of the creatures. They seemed to learn of my presence through some sixth sense. They went under the fridge. Is the fridge then their next target? Is it possible to seal them under there? Can these Mice burrow into the bottom of the fridge? Why do men have nipples?
Not only are these mice super powered however they are also skilled in the arts of deception. Just last night I discovered one in the bath. My father informed me that Ratsak caused great thirst in the creatures and that it would soon be dead. Hence he released it into the yard while I pondered my best course of action. And just this evening I saw THE EXACT SAME MOUSE. I recognised it by the evil gleam in its little beady eyes. The mice are smart enough that when stuck, they can trick humans into getting them out of it. I haven't seen the dog around recently either. If this house were an Arctic Research Station you just KNOW they'd be dispatching the Marines by now. The stove shall fall, though in part can we not blame the short sighted fools of 'Chef' for making a stove supported by chipboard, for not forseeing a race of supermice that deliberately hunt down their otherwise fine products? A great darkness spreads out across these tiles or rather lino. If the stove falls these shall be dark times indeed. Though really tis only a matter of time... |
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| Time travel - to London no less |
[Nov. 29th, 2005|08:07 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | yes. mood indeed. | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Sober - Tool (the track comes first I now realise) | ] |
Well as you can doubtless tell I have recently travelled back through time a small few years (January 1, 1890 despite what livejournal may tell you). How, why, when you may ask (though more careful thinking may cause you to retract that last question). Well I for one do not intend to tell you. I'm finding the 19th century much to my liking in fact. The new years celebrations were most delightful. Lord and lady wilfred threw a splendid shindig and there was merriment all around. I'm looking to find me a monacle and a collapsible tophat. While I'm here I may also visit Baker street and see if I can set Mr Holmes a crime to solve. Perhaps I can kidnap the Queen and hide her inside a dressed pig which is then sold for sunday luncheon and 'ole Sherlock' will have to find her before she is baked and devoured. I'm sure I shall have a Jolly Good Time. Though of course I must be home in time for Tea and Scones. Now the more observant of the perhaps two people at most who read this (how can I recall people who don't yet exist) will be wondering how I'm updating this in 1890. To you I say. Could not someone at the right place in history place perhaps a letter in the care of a firm of solicitors to be a added to a thing called the "Interweb"? Well couldn't it? I certainly hope so or you may never know. My voyaging has lead me to an intruiging discovery. I believe I have discovered why life 'has its ups and downs'. Think of a motor, the poles of the magnets must be perpetually switching to spin the thing. So too your brain. Now I believe it may be time for some more hilarious misadventures in the exciting screenplay of 'Yorick's farm' oh it's a delightful product. I remember that time when the sheep was caught in the fence, why Yorick spent HOURS trying to sort that one out. Also there are some urchins requesting "a penny Guv'nor" I believe I shall spend many a joyous hour teaching them to do tricks. My favourite trick is the one where one jumps through a hoop while blindfolded and throws a knife which neatly slices an apple on another's stomach. I'm actually encountering some difficulty in teaching that one. Though orphans aren't too hard to find, and really running off to join the circus sounds like "ever such fun" as they all tell me...oh but I shall have the greatest circus the world has ever seen! |
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| gazawump |
[Nov. 22nd, 2005|03:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | Moodtastic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Zeromancer - Lamp Halo | ] |
Yeargh, I seem to be starting one of these odd that. Today on ye olde train(e) I looked at this woman chewing her nails, until she started to cry. Pretended it was a cough, then put on her sunglasses so I couldn't see her eyes. Then I looked away, and Lo she didst stop. I didn't get to see if looking at her some more would make her cry again as I had to vacate the train. There should be a law against taking primary school children on trains... it was horrible. Also, off milk is a taste sensation! Though not one I ever want to 'sensate' again. I doubt I'll actually ever update this thing again. Butyeah. |
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