... that one day, my life is going to come to an end. Durrh. Not just any end. It's going to be in a moment of pure clarity in which, I look back and I trace back each event, carefully, in turn, one at a time, E back to D, D back to C, C to B, etc etc until I get to the point where the one decision that fucked my life over completely for the next 27 years...
And that one moment is going to have something to do with Fungles.
My life flashing before my eyes will resemble a Dresden File. At least I'll be entertained when I die.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
What where and why? Mullosc.
A giant sandstorm/cloud/manifestation of pure evil has descended on Salt Lake today. It seems rather out of the ordinary to me, that the entire valley appears to be coalesced in an opaque brownish cloud that LOOKS like a cloud but is far too sinister, but no one else seems to really care. Either aliens have landed and begun their slow invasion of our minds and bodies by corroding our insides with dust, or the Missionaries dusted off their shoes onto the entire valley, in which case; God help us all. Which is ironic, given the circumstances. See what I did there? Theological pun.
Sickness sucks. Specially being poisoned via bad food or a 24 hour bug (I have my suspicions) But I love trying to explain things to people when they would rather not hear it or rather, have already made up their mind as to the reasoning behind truth as they perceive it. In Laman's layman's terms, its frustrating to a ninth level of hellish power squared when you try and give a reason to someone who simply won't believe you. So... What's the point of rationalizing or defending yourself if the other person isn't open to that reasoning? Close-minded people are mind-boggling. Literally. No, literally. Their mind is scrambled because its so closed off nothing gets in or out and it scrambles it up much like those eggs in those early "This is your brain, this is your brain on drugs" commercials that DARE hashed out in the early 90s to stunt kids from thinking Drugs were the fun thing to do, even though Fungles and Napoleon himself know where the hell kids get the money to purchase expensive, dangerous narcotics. Hook em young, they say, but what's the point if all you get is a pocketful of change. HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT YOU DRUG DEALERS, PEDDLING YOUR BOY-TRODDING WARES FROM ICE CREAM TRUCKS LIKE EVER SO SWEET-TASTING BERRIES OF LIFE THAT MY BEAr may or may not have eaten last month.
So I want a puppy, and I'm going to name him Erlking. Why? Cuz it sounds f#$%ing badass.
Got to talk to the DEA today. They basically listed the various ways they will break your kneecaps and kill all your pets should the cell within your brain even consider the notion of formulating a plan of shifting even one degree closer to the other cell that could spark the imagining of stealing said drug from said workplace. The DEA doesn't fuck around, man. They will kill you. Know what else will kill you? Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches from the Dennys on 45th south exit off I-15 in Salt Lake City / Taylorsville area. Sons of bitches.
Warlocks used to be OP, but they aren't anymore; quite the opposite. I wonder if this is something Blizzard intended. It seems all classes that used to be overpowered are now slipping under the radar and Blizz iz conveniently not listening to any constructive criticism whines, rants, bitches, threats or bribes by millions of players that think things aren't as they used to be. And I can't help but wonder, despite how much it hurts my eXistence to do so, if Blizz doesn't care because a class was OP in the past. Think about it. A guy who dominated everyone for 2 years running suddenly complains he's too weak. Sounds like a lot of whining doesn't it. I suppose Blizzard looks at things from a broader spectrum, which would make sense, given all their goddamn jerk-knee changes to the game reflects the fact that no one, not even a distant relative or retarded gerbil, among Blizzards employees even plays the game or has ever played it in the past so they relatively no clue what needs fixing anyway. All they know = 20 million people like their stupid Ret Pallies and Death Knights and that brings in the money. Why fix anything else? The name of the Business game is make big bucks, and by the official "rules", blizzard is winning. They shut down countless other MMOs: Guild Wars ( I think, but its not like anyone cared about that game anyway) Matrix Online, Age of Conan, countless free MMOs, Hellgate London (not significant in anyway given what a spectacular monument of pure FAILBOT that it was) so on and so forth.
Oh, and some guy said I smelled funny at work today. Can you believe the rude NERVE of that guy? What an ass.
Sickness sucks. Specially being poisoned via bad food or a 24 hour bug (I have my suspicions) But I love trying to explain things to people when they would rather not hear it or rather, have already made up their mind as to the reasoning behind truth as they perceive it. In Laman's layman's terms, its frustrating to a ninth level of hellish power squared when you try and give a reason to someone who simply won't believe you. So... What's the point of rationalizing or defending yourself if the other person isn't open to that reasoning? Close-minded people are mind-boggling. Literally. No, literally. Their mind is scrambled because its so closed off nothing gets in or out and it scrambles it up much like those eggs in those early "This is your brain, this is your brain on drugs" commercials that DARE hashed out in the early 90s to stunt kids from thinking Drugs were the fun thing to do, even though Fungles and Napoleon himself know where the hell kids get the money to purchase expensive, dangerous narcotics. Hook em young, they say, but what's the point if all you get is a pocketful of change. HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT YOU DRUG DEALERS, PEDDLING YOUR BOY-TRODDING WARES FROM ICE CREAM TRUCKS LIKE EVER SO SWEET-TASTING BERRIES OF LIFE THAT MY BEAr may or may not have eaten last month.
So I want a puppy, and I'm going to name him Erlking. Why? Cuz it sounds f#$%ing badass.
Got to talk to the DEA today. They basically listed the various ways they will break your kneecaps and kill all your pets should the cell within your brain even consider the notion of formulating a plan of shifting even one degree closer to the other cell that could spark the imagining of stealing said drug from said workplace. The DEA doesn't fuck around, man. They will kill you. Know what else will kill you? Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches from the Dennys on 45th south exit off I-15 in Salt Lake City / Taylorsville area. Sons of bitches.
Warlocks used to be OP, but they aren't anymore; quite the opposite. I wonder if this is something Blizzard intended. It seems all classes that used to be overpowered are now slipping under the radar and Blizz iz conveniently not listening to any constructive criticism whines, rants, bitches, threats or bribes by millions of players that think things aren't as they used to be. And I can't help but wonder, despite how much it hurts my eXistence to do so, if Blizz doesn't care because a class was OP in the past. Think about it. A guy who dominated everyone for 2 years running suddenly complains he's too weak. Sounds like a lot of whining doesn't it. I suppose Blizzard looks at things from a broader spectrum, which would make sense, given all their goddamn jerk-knee changes to the game reflects the fact that no one, not even a distant relative or retarded gerbil, among Blizzards employees even plays the game or has ever played it in the past so they relatively no clue what needs fixing anyway. All they know = 20 million people like their stupid Ret Pallies and Death Knights and that brings in the money. Why fix anything else? The name of the Business game is make big bucks, and by the official "rules", blizzard is winning. They shut down countless other MMOs: Guild Wars ( I think, but its not like anyone cared about that game anyway) Matrix Online, Age of Conan, countless free MMOs, Hellgate London (not significant in anyway given what a spectacular monument of pure FAILBOT that it was) so on and so forth.
Oh, and some guy said I smelled funny at work today. Can you believe the rude NERVE of that guy? What an ass.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Guess what Dennys?!
You're on my list of flaming-barrel roll targets, you rotten food serving, pieces of purple monkey shit.
What? 7 hours of puking nothing and diarrhea runs would make anyone cranky. And this costs me Overtime at work... FFFFFFFFFF
What? 7 hours of puking nothing and diarrhea runs would make anyone cranky. And this costs me Overtime at work... FFFFFFFFFF
Saturday, August 1, 2009
As I Was Walking...
... I thought I saw the ghost of Michael Jackson calling out to me the other day. Turned out to be a dead raccoon and the sound I heard was two sparrows mating midflight while the metal gates creaked open to let me through security, whom is staffed by one of the hottest women I've seen in a long time. I'm tempted to yoink some sticks just to see what might happen.
The amount of news covering Michael Jackson always bothered me. I find it disturbing how in the end, someone can have ani-morphed into something completely opposite of what they used to be, but then when they die turn into some sort of iconic new media God even if its only for a minimum amount of time on the news, but lets face it, the average american attention span isn't very long at all, so the media need to be fast at whatever they do. I keep seeing stuff in papers or on TV about paraphenalia and other shit collectibles like old discs that people stopped buying 10 years ago, but they think people might want now. Or stamps. MJ stamps. Wow. Really? It's enough to make you want to punch a chicken, but don't punch it too much, lest it summon angry hordes of nigh-indestructible demonspawn of feathers after you.
Even if all the proceeds from these sales go directly to charities that help starving monkeys in Africa, retarded goat children in Checkohungarslavialand or to feed the mongol hordes that have recently taken over the Moon, the fact doesn't change that organizations are capitalizing on MJ's death. His DEATH. IF they tried to suddenly hype shit for no reason when he was alive, none of it would've sold. His death brought this about, this sudden spark of renewed interest in albums that fell off the top "charts" over a decade ago. No disrespect to the "King of Pop", more like a cucumber in the eye of the morons who elevated death into some sort of glorified state of animated magnificence all by itself for the news.
http://www.xkcd.com/610/ We're all so damn unique, it's frighteningly normal.
I had a dream that Zack Fair was a praying Mantis and Cloud Strife was some sort of aphid and were duking it out inside of one of those little plastic baubles out of 25c coin machines with some near useless piece of melted plastic that is supposed to resmble a toy inside. They both used the same sword, so it was hard to tell them apart, but one of them started to cast a 30 minute long summon sequence upon which my brain promptly fell asleep. INSIDE the dream.
The glass is either half-full or half-empty, but mine has a crack in it and I'm pissed about that.
A near angry neanderthal, possibly Scottish, shouted "UNLEASH YO RAGE" once and it made me wonder how a human being can 'bottle' up their rage to the point where it might need be 'unleashed'. The funny thing about anger is if you let it out in a steady trickle, it not only makes other people intimidated (annoyed) by your presence, you never feel full of rage at all. Plus anger is a very useful tool that can be used in your day-to-day transactions. I've seen angry people do all sorts of amazing things, from killing armies, to killing armies of undead demon things, to ripping people apart with their extra invisible hands. See what I mean? Death in the media. Gaw!!!
Speaking of death: I want to die doing a flaming Barrel Roll while flinging sharpened mullosc shells like ninja stars at a gaggle of Blizzard employees while the 1812 overture roars in the background. If you're going to go out, go out with a Bang. Or an Explosion.
Or a barrel roll
My novel is off the shelf and back into the Typewriter. Future updates as events warrant.
The amount of news covering Michael Jackson always bothered me. I find it disturbing how in the end, someone can have ani-morphed into something completely opposite of what they used to be, but then when they die turn into some sort of iconic new media God even if its only for a minimum amount of time on the news, but lets face it, the average american attention span isn't very long at all, so the media need to be fast at whatever they do. I keep seeing stuff in papers or on TV about paraphenalia and other shit collectibles like old discs that people stopped buying 10 years ago, but they think people might want now. Or stamps. MJ stamps. Wow. Really? It's enough to make you want to punch a chicken, but don't punch it too much, lest it summon angry hordes of nigh-indestructible demonspawn of feathers after you.
Even if all the proceeds from these sales go directly to charities that help starving monkeys in Africa, retarded goat children in Checkohungarslavialand or to feed the mongol hordes that have recently taken over the Moon, the fact doesn't change that organizations are capitalizing on MJ's death. His DEATH. IF they tried to suddenly hype shit for no reason when he was alive, none of it would've sold. His death brought this about, this sudden spark of renewed interest in albums that fell off the top "charts" over a decade ago. No disrespect to the "King of Pop", more like a cucumber in the eye of the morons who elevated death into some sort of glorified state of animated magnificence all by itself for the news.
http://www.xkcd.com/610/ We're all so damn unique, it's frighteningly normal.
I had a dream that Zack Fair was a praying Mantis and Cloud Strife was some sort of aphid and were duking it out inside of one of those little plastic baubles out of 25c coin machines with some near useless piece of melted plastic that is supposed to resmble a toy inside. They both used the same sword, so it was hard to tell them apart, but one of them started to cast a 30 minute long summon sequence upon which my brain promptly fell asleep. INSIDE the dream.
The glass is either half-full or half-empty, but mine has a crack in it and I'm pissed about that.
A near angry neanderthal, possibly Scottish, shouted "UNLEASH YO RAGE" once and it made me wonder how a human being can 'bottle' up their rage to the point where it might need be 'unleashed'. The funny thing about anger is if you let it out in a steady trickle, it not only makes other people intimidated (annoyed) by your presence, you never feel full of rage at all. Plus anger is a very useful tool that can be used in your day-to-day transactions. I've seen angry people do all sorts of amazing things, from killing armies, to killing armies of undead demon things, to ripping people apart with their extra invisible hands. See what I mean? Death in the media. Gaw!!!
Speaking of death: I want to die doing a flaming Barrel Roll while flinging sharpened mullosc shells like ninja stars at a gaggle of Blizzard employees while the 1812 overture roars in the background. If you're going to go out, go out with a Bang. Or an Explosion.
Or a barrel roll
My novel is off the shelf and back into the Typewriter. Future updates as events warrant.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
"Many Bothans died to bring us this information..." Well, maybe they weren't very good spies then, were they, Professor Failbot?
I saw a car wrecked on the side of the road, but the blinding force of joy and ultimate cumulation of Schadenfreude emanating from my magnificent smile that causes rainbows and unicorns to hide their faces in shame made me drive right past him. Besides, I doubt he would've wanted to listen to me laugh at him while trying to help. My desire to be a good person is dwarfed only by my undying hatred for the occupants of the freeway, even the innocent ones.
Men and women are different creatures. Though we're both (technically) humans, we're very different from one another. And rather than expend gratuitious amounts of mental energy trying to figure out why we're so different (Ki), I just lazily accept that things are the way they are and move on. And while women have a lot going for them, I have to say that one amazing reason to be a man is simply just being able to stroke your beard. Few things are as satisfying as sitting around with a beard like the guys on ZZ top, the amish farmer or Santa Claus and raking your fingers through it while reminiscing on the meaning of life. Ladies, want a great way to eliminate stress from your life? Grow a beard. It will cut all guys out of your life AND give you a surefire way to just relax in the evening. "Problems? Stroke a beard." Catch-phrase is patent pending. (Ki: I do not mock your intelligence nor vigorous study of all things, including Social Psychology. If I had kids, I'd do the same thing)
Work is funny. A lot of people don't like having to shred the garbage in the back of Lab, but I actually enjoy doing it. It's kinda fun throwing tons of garbage bags onto a conveyor, let them slip slowly into a giant bowl that resembles the Kraken's Maw and watching the jaws of steel gnash up the bags in under two seconds. When I stand on top of the ladder, I pretend I'm tossing bound and gagged infidel prisoners onto a torture device before being messily devoured by my heinous pet creature while their screams form a macabre symphony of the night for me to dance to. It's very rewarding. No pun intended for comparing people to garbage.
If I had the money, I'd have a fish tank the size of a football field in which I'd keep my pet Kraken. I'd name him 'Cthulu Fthagn', or just 'Legs' for short. Feeding would be a bitch, but raising cattle is easy, right? His tank would be right next to Japeth the singing Goat "An avalanche is coming and I do not feel prepar-r-r-red" and the bamboo hut that houses the attack-squad of Killer Koala Bears armed with tiny rapiers.
Oh, and for the record: when you're at work and you threaten to stab your roommate in the face with a pair of scissors, make sure your co-workers know that he, in fact, is your roommate. It makes the situation marginally less awkward.
And when the room-Operator tells you not to put your head in the Bowl during a run, for Gods sake, DON'T DO IT.
I saw a car wrecked on the side of the road, but the blinding force of joy and ultimate cumulation of Schadenfreude emanating from my magnificent smile that causes rainbows and unicorns to hide their faces in shame made me drive right past him. Besides, I doubt he would've wanted to listen to me laugh at him while trying to help. My desire to be a good person is dwarfed only by my undying hatred for the occupants of the freeway, even the innocent ones.
Men and women are different creatures. Though we're both (technically) humans, we're very different from one another. And rather than expend gratuitious amounts of mental energy trying to figure out why we're so different (Ki), I just lazily accept that things are the way they are and move on. And while women have a lot going for them, I have to say that one amazing reason to be a man is simply just being able to stroke your beard. Few things are as satisfying as sitting around with a beard like the guys on ZZ top, the amish farmer or Santa Claus and raking your fingers through it while reminiscing on the meaning of life. Ladies, want a great way to eliminate stress from your life? Grow a beard. It will cut all guys out of your life AND give you a surefire way to just relax in the evening. "Problems? Stroke a beard." Catch-phrase is patent pending. (Ki: I do not mock your intelligence nor vigorous study of all things, including Social Psychology. If I had kids, I'd do the same thing)
Work is funny. A lot of people don't like having to shred the garbage in the back of Lab, but I actually enjoy doing it. It's kinda fun throwing tons of garbage bags onto a conveyor, let them slip slowly into a giant bowl that resembles the Kraken's Maw and watching the jaws of steel gnash up the bags in under two seconds. When I stand on top of the ladder, I pretend I'm tossing bound and gagged infidel prisoners onto a torture device before being messily devoured by my heinous pet creature while their screams form a macabre symphony of the night for me to dance to. It's very rewarding. No pun intended for comparing people to garbage.
If I had the money, I'd have a fish tank the size of a football field in which I'd keep my pet Kraken. I'd name him 'Cthulu Fthagn', or just 'Legs' for short. Feeding would be a bitch, but raising cattle is easy, right? His tank would be right next to Japeth the singing Goat "An avalanche is coming and I do not feel prepar-r-r-red" and the bamboo hut that houses the attack-squad of Killer Koala Bears armed with tiny rapiers.
Oh, and for the record: when you're at work and you threaten to stab your roommate in the face with a pair of scissors, make sure your co-workers know that he, in fact, is your roommate. It makes the situation marginally less awkward.
And when the room-Operator tells you not to put your head in the Bowl during a run, for Gods sake, DON'T DO IT.
Monday, July 27, 2009
If I Had A Million Dollars...
... I'd sucker punch Miley Cyrus right in the f*#$%in' eye, then use the 999,991 dollars on a lawyer to counter the subsequent suing-of-my-ass case for assault.
Then I'd use the remaining tidbits of cash to take her out on a cheap date by way of apology. Burger and fries good enough for you?!
When in the bathroom, I tugged the TP a bit too hard and it unrolled onto the floor. Unbeknownst to me, a lil fuzzy spider was chillin' there, minding his own business and probably got stuck up in the paper when I grabbed it. To this day, I can honestly say that I wiped my ass with a spider once. Take that ya home-invading little wanker.
Drivers are bad. Plain and simple. There are no good drivers. Just bad and worse drivers. Most people probably don't deserve their license anymore, having grown too damn lax over the years without caveat for safety or their own fuggin' mortality. Having conveniently forgetten all the rules they painstakingly learned to get their license in the first place, they now mock the very system that drivers use these days by doing whatever they damn well please.
I honestly can't tell if it's honest-to-goodness fucking stupidity, or if it's just a lack of awareness of their own mortality. Either way, anytime God wants to rip the roads out of the earth and watch the morons other drivers flounder about helplessly without law or the machine to tell them what to do, He's game to do so.
Or maybe I'm just a vindictive asshole that wishes ill of the entire human race. I don't even know.
Then I'd use the remaining tidbits of cash to take her out on a cheap date by way of apology. Burger and fries good enough for you?!
When in the bathroom, I tugged the TP a bit too hard and it unrolled onto the floor. Unbeknownst to me, a lil fuzzy spider was chillin' there, minding his own business and probably got stuck up in the paper when I grabbed it. To this day, I can honestly say that I wiped my ass with a spider once. Take that ya home-invading little wanker.
Drivers are bad. Plain and simple. There are no good drivers. Just bad and worse drivers. Most people probably don't deserve their license anymore, having grown too damn lax over the years without caveat for safety or their own fuggin' mortality. Having conveniently forgetten all the rules they painstakingly learned to get their license in the first place, they now mock the very system that drivers use these days by doing whatever they damn well please.
I honestly can't tell if it's honest-to-goodness fucking stupidity, or if it's just a lack of awareness of their own mortality. Either way, anytime God wants to rip the roads out of the earth and watch the morons other drivers flounder about helplessly without law or the machine to tell them what to do, He's game to do so.
Or maybe I'm just a vindictive asshole that wishes ill of the entire human race. I don't even know.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
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