The List

Some of you may remember that a few years ago, I did a blog series called “From my Li’l Notebook of Thoughts.” It was intended to be a weekly shin-dig, but I discontinued it because I didn’t have nearly as many thoughts as I thought that I thought. What you didn’t know was that I still write in the notebook, and it serves as a portion of my soul, forever binding be to the world unless it and six other objects containing my soul are destroyed. Let’s take a peek, shall we?

•  Yo momma’s so fat, she lost her left foot to type 2 diabetes and will never walk again.
• Yo momma’s so fat, she suffered from a myocardial infarction and had to go under intensive heart bypass surgery in order to save her life, then had to take out a second mortgage on her home and sell her car to pay the subsequent medical bills.
• Yo momma’s so fat, she throws up twice a day and slits her wrists because she can never keep up with the impossible physical standards set by the media.
• Idea: turn empty wall next to the door into a “Wall of Shame.”
• You are more depressing than Sophocles in his emo phase.
• Ah, the 1750’s. When a transatlantic trip took a whole month, hot air balloons were high-tech, and America was England’s bitch.
• The worst part about the truth is that it’s true.
• Guns don’t kill people- video games, goth, and rap music do.
• When I get my first car, it will be white, and I’ll name it “honkey.”
• “I’d like to rock her Cashbah.”
• “I’d like to hustle her Van McCoy.”
• “I’d like to do that chick’s ass what MTV did to music- wreck it.”
• “I’d like to infiltrate her Spheres of Influence.”
• “I’d like to make sexual innuendo about her.”
• With that hat, you’ll be the envy of the mental hospital.
• Greeting card idea: You’re not quite as ugly as Carrot Top.
• What if you wanted to file a bunch of folders? Then what would you do?
• Just think- 50 years from know, today will be history. 100 years from now, our movies will be boring. 1000 years from now, nobody will care.
• Just once I’d like to ask my teacher a question and have her reply “I’d could tell you, but I’d rather SHOW you… in song!”
• Whenever I see a sock with no partner, I put it back in the laundry. Who knows? It might meet someone.
• If Jesus were cheddar, he’d be Cheesus.
• The only difference between a good essay and a bad essay is whether or not I wrote it.
• I shave my entire face. Not just my chin and cheeks, but my forehead, too. I call my eyebrows “eyestaches” and my mustache my “Hairy Sanchez.”
• Why do they bother making the top two rungs on ladders if they’re going to put a warning label that says you’re at risk of falling if you stand on them?
• In 2041, Windows XP will be a 40-Year-Old Version.
• There are some people who do nothing all day but think great thoughts. But I have one thing that they haven’t got- a notebook to write them down in!

That’s all for now, chums. DT Out.

Video Games!

I’m sick of all this video game shit. It has been forever since the Wii came out, and people are still clucking on about it as if it cured cancer.

It’s a friggin video game system. It does not bring grandma back to life. It is a little plastic box in your living room that makes you more likely to smash your TV.

Oh, and you Xbox fans, don’t think you’re so smug with your “superior system OMFGBLAARGH!!!” The Xbox, like your mother, is a steaming pile of feces. However, if there’s one thing I hate more than video games, it’s the people who play them. They’re all uptight fanboy pricks who spend months discussing how much they’re going to jerk off to Brawl.

It’s sad to see how many people waste their lives on this shit. Anybody who says that Bioshock, Guitar Heo, Gears of Warcraft or whatever is a “way of life” can go snort a bowl of smegma. A video game is not a way of life. Living in your parent’s basement is a way of life. More accurately, it’s your way of life.

Fighting Fire with Firefox

The Mozilla Foundation (MoFo for short) and I have always had a love-hate relationship. Namely, they hate me, and I love them.

It all started back in the days of yore, when Firefox had been out for about 4 years. Mozillions of people gabbed endlessly about how Firefox was infinitely better than Internet Explorer in every conceivable way. Usually, it is my policy to ignore fanboys (and any cockgobbling, asinine webcomics made by them and their fellow nintentards), but I decided to give it a try anyway.

I find that internet browsers and operating systems are a lot like religions- you tend to be faithful to what you were brought up with. Since I had been using IE exclusively, Firefox was foreign and, in my opinion, inferior to IE. I uninstalled it after two weeks.

About a month or so later, firefox 2.0 came out, and I decided to reinstall it. This time, I kept firefox on my computer for a longer time. I had became more familiar with the tabs system (thanks to IE7), which gave me the incentive to keep it on my computer. The party ended when my computer got more viruses than your mom gets on the average Friday night, and I had to wipe it.

After reinstalling Windows, I again reverted back to IE for a year before getting Firefox for a third time. Unlike my previous two experiences, I found myself to be a savvy user of Firefox. I had add-ons coming out of my GreaseMonkeyed ass. I was getting close to hitting the 10,000 webpages mark on StumbleUpon. 

Sadly, the internet is no fairy tale. One day, Firefox crapped out on me, and refused to open, even in Safe Mode. I uninstalled it yet again, assuming I could simply redownload it through Internet Explorer. This was not the case. When I tried to download Firefox again, Download Wizard refused to open up, my computer won’t extract the saved file, and it pretends that it is corrupt.

I was not content with IE. I was willing to download Ubuntu in order to get Foxxy Browse back. It was the ultimate act of sacrifice- I wouldn’t be able to use any Adobe products, nor could I play computer games. I wouldn’t be able to email any files to people I know, but it would be worth having Firefox.

However, Linus Torvalds had other plans. In the middle of downloading the 300 MB file, the download window stopped for no reason. So here I am with no Firefox, no Ubuntu, and all my MP3’s changed to .ogg format. I guess you can’t cut out your own heart because it bleeds on your dreams.

What’s Up, Essay?

To prove how ludicrous my school’s agenda is, I’ll be posting a recent essay I had to write for one of my classes. I won’t give too much away, but it involves comparing Jane Eyre to Ramen noodles. It was an easy essay, but the hard part was refraining from making jokes. Kathy- as you are both a fan of Jane Eyre and soup- this one’s for you.

            In my project, I chose to reflect upon Mr. Rochester and Mrs. Reed. For the sake of this exercise, I will focus on Mr. Rochester, as he is definitely more pasta-like than Mrs. Reed. The pasta that he is related to is none other than the world-famous Ramen noodles. In this essay, I will address his physical relations to the noodle, as well as his metaphorical relations to it.

            For starters, Mr. Rochester is probably a white guy. This is convenient, because Ramen, although being from Japan, has a distinctive Caucasian tinge to their noodles. Mr. Rochester is short and has a well-built, athletic body. He is boxy, but thin, which is a prime characteristic of Ramen noodles. He also wears clothes, which I guess would be the packaging of the noodles.

            On a deeper level, Mr. Rochester is like Ramen noodles because he is very hard, cold, and sarcastic. He can stand u for himself, but he breaks easily. If you recall, he falls off his horse and breaks his ankle. Later, after his crazy Creole wife and part-time incendiary, Bertha Mason, sets fire to the house, he loses an eye, his vision, and a hand. How careless. Ramen noodles might burn easily too, but I haven’t reached that part of my science fair project yet. You can enjoy Mr. Rochester on his own, but he is not really complete until you add Jane Eyre- the hot water- to the mix. Finally, some people like to add the optional flavor package, which are the new emotions Jane teaches him. Before you know it, lunch is over and Edward Rochester has metamorphosed from a stale packet of Japanese cuisine to a delicious pile of noodle and compassion. 

Crap!

I was wrong about the Super Games. The Patriots didn’t win 23 to 7. That’s the last time I put faith in the tenable veracity of made up facts in a movie. No sir. From now on I’m going to solely believe in Pulp Fiction books that tell me that I’m possessed by crazy spirits, who I must pay handsomely in order to free god from his volcano tomb, where he has been imprisoned since the earth was created, a trillion years ago. Now that’s sensible!

Superbowl Outcomes

For the first time in my life, I am impatient to see grossly oversalaried douchebags play with their balls. I’m talking about the Super Bowl, of course. Why? Because I think I know the outcome of the game.

It all started when I was busy waxing my hot rod. to go off on a tangent, here’s some programming for those of you who read that last sentence.

#include <aboveparagraph>

{int dirtymind

10 print “I was busy waxing my hot rod”;

20 if 10 = dirty goto 40;

30 if 10 ≠ dirty, exec “read_on”;

40 int char: mind;

55 remove_from_gutter;

}

Anyways, I was waxing my hot rod, acting like a tough greaser, when a mysterious old creep shambles up to me. “Hey thar, sonny,” he said. “I gots a present for you.” I yelled at him and made a really bad Fat Albert joke. He then handed me a sports almanac from the future, allowing me to bet favorably on every sporting event up until the year 2045.

I churlishly tossed it into the back of my hot rod. Then Michael J.Fox made a daring hoverboard tunnel chase, causing me to drive into a pile of manure (which I hate). He absconded with the magazine. Dumbfounded at the loss of my potential fortune, I decided to go see “I Am Legend.”

There is still some hope left for me. In the movie, Hillary Clinton’s giant-eyed fish twin makes a news announcement. Underneath it is the outcome for the superbowl.

That’s right. The Giants will lose to the Patriots 23 to 7. I told my friends this, and after researching to find out what sport the Superbowl entails, I wagered a hefty sum of D n’ D gold pieces on it.

Got Patriots!

Dumb Things I Said

• On sporting events:

Me: When is the Super Cup going to be on?

My Friend: You idiot, it’s called the Mega Bowl!

• On programming languages: (I submitted this to bash.org)

Me: Binary is the hottest numeral system. It has bi right in the name!

Friend: Yeah, but hex is only one letter away from sex.

• On LOLcats:

Me: We already have LOLcats, but LOLdogs? There’s a lame ripoff if I ever saw one. If we don’t stop, we’ll have a complete LOLocaust.

•  On the refrigerator:

My Sister: Is there any more orange juice?

Me: Check in the…uh…um… food colderizer.

• On the One Red Paperclip guy:

Me: You know, there was this guy who had a red paperclip, and he…

Everyone in earshot: We KNOW.

Me: …and he traded it for a whole mess of crap and now it has gone to his head.

• On the Macbook Air:

Me: The MacBook Air presents a negative body image to me.

• On my mom:

Me: My mom could beat up your mom!

•  On Windows:

Me: In 2040, Windows ME will be a 40-year-old version.

Of Courses!

I have to got to school next year, which means we’re required to choose elective courses in about nine weeks. Sure, it seems a bit early to be worried about which classes I’ll take next year, but since nobody’s telling me what to do, I’ll have to decide for myself. My choices are:

• Computer Graphics 3
• Anatomy
• Creative writing/film studies
• Web development
• Dark Magic
• Sexology
• Sexonomy
• Steganography
• “That’s what she said”  jokes and when to say them
• Advanced Gorilla Wrangling
• Coming up with straight-to-DVD comedy movie titles that involve substituting the word “days” with “daze,” because really, it happens more often than it should
• AP Confusing Mathematics
• Photojournalism

These are just the ones I’m interested in. What do you suggest I take?

Nightmare on Desktop Street

You know in the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street, where the girl is running away from Freddy and she gets slashed by him and wakes up to find that she was actually cut? That same thing kind of happened to me, except it was nothing like the movie at all.

In my dream, I was a bodybuilder. I could lift a weight a few times, and my muscles would swell to the size of large hams. They would deflate quickly, so I would have to pump myself up over and over again. In between muscle pumpings, I would pose in the mirror, looking baleful, yet in a suave, I-don’t-care, bad boy brattitude. I noticed there was a cluster of moles on my forearm. I panicked for some reason, and patted myself down to find any more new moles. There was a sizable lump on the inner part of my left thigh. I screamed expletives in fear, and decided that it had to come out, and it had to come out now. Using my macho self-mutilating will, I dug my fingers behind the tumor. The skin was surprisingly spongy, and I could feel it easily. I pushed my hand in as deep as it would go, then yanked the ball of flesh as hard as I could. It hurt like shit, but it was still attached. I felt it spring back into my leg. I grasped it a second time, trying to squeeze it to death. I was able to choke it for a bit, but it felt like a hot iron was goring my leg. I decided to give it one last try. I wrapped my right hand around the tumor as hard as I could, squeezed the tumor as if it were a stress ball, inhaled sharpl, and…

I woke up in pain. Throwing off my sheets, I saw my hand driven into my pants clasped around my left testicle, which was throbbing with pain.

I’m glad I didn’t make that final pull. Also, I’m now afraid to go to sleep, because I don’t want it to happen again.

Teeth Ledger

Good news, everyone! I’m going to get a full ten days off of school next week, due to a careful mix of holidays and dental work.

Bad news, everyone! I’m getting four teeth pulled. My dentist is a pretty nice guy, who I met a day ago. He recently lost his license, so he’s working  in an alley so he can feed his kids. He’s also out of anesthesia, but I’m letting him do it because I like to help out a small business. His pliers looked kind of rusty, but if I bring my own, I can get a discount!