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I hate Wal-Mart with a passion; I swear, when I am home my mom does not let one opportunity to invite me on her masochistic journeys to that bastion of evil. Have you seen the kind of filth that resides in that place? I can say "holy-living-fuck-this-place-is-a-shithole" with total assurance that I am not out of line. My goodness I walked in there a few months ago to be bombarded by the foul stench of some combination of trailer-trash, soiled under-ware, and McDonald's. Another problem I have with this whole place, not one shiny thing in the whole place! The video games don't count so don't try to bitch to me that the newest Nintendo fagcube is being released there a week in advance and they have this ultra-super-gooey Mario 347834 with butter-crackers. I don't care it is nullified by the sheer awfulness of that place. Fecal order permeates the isles and okies maul each other over Razor scooters and chicken McNuggets.
I do like writing, I maybe terrible at it and have no innate writing talent whatsoever I write. Something I like to call spite. I have about 200 to 300 pages of just random thoughts strewn about my rooms. I can recall every emotion that went into every word of every page, its so frightening, I even remember the ones I wrote just because I was feeling exceptionally vocal.
What has my father done to me?????? I have this freakish obsession with the Beach Boys! I can't get enough, they are my crack right now. This summer Radiohead and Travis were my crack, they will always hold that position but I am currently having an affair with the Beach Boys. This is horrible I realize the songs are cheesy and hold hardly any depth, epically when compared to what I normally listen to.
Speaking of normal listening, I love Ben Folds Five...check down farther for a rant about that bullshit. I enjoy Counting Crows, the strange thing about that band is my vehement opposition to them initially. I remember hearing Long December way back before what I like to call the "great escape" of my life. I hated that song, I wouldn't even listen to the lyrics and give it a chance. Of course that all changed during my "long december" of 99. Strange how things work out isn't it? Ok moving along I enjoy Guster a great deal (please do not gasm upon reading) they are a trio from Boston. Other than incredible harmony, deep lyrics, hooks that are catchy to say the least, they have a congalier! Yeah you read right... congalier. Next up Barenaked Ladies... if you don't listen to them may god have mercy on your soul. Travis was mentioned earlier, just buy their cds. Blessid Union of Souls, Billy Joel, Incubus, Nine Days, Goo Goo Dolls, Grandaddy, Coldplay, Weezer, Gin Blossoms, and then comes my punk side. AFI, Saves the Day, Refused, Link80, New Found Glory, Boy Sets Fire, Screw32, The Get Up Kids, the list goes on. What can I say I like good music, if it has a good lyrical base then the majority of the time its going to be a good song. Ok now I have been out of anything to say for the majority of this paragraph so I'm wrapping it up till tomorrow.
NEXT UPDATE: MOVIES and other shit that bothers me like hotdogs.
Random thought before the real update...
I thought of G period physics from the days of yore today. Mrs. Woo-Millsop, a inside joke within herself tried desperately to quell the uprising that Willie and Ed brought to the class, quite unsuccessfully. So anyway I remember one random afternoon walking about the halls with the ShifyAsian, and El Jefe I came up with the phrase "just Woo it." Ok so its not really all that original but I thought it was crafty of me. The game that is Nasa-Genius originated with physics classes. So the object is to move though the preset word order and whoever gets the last word (that being Exploritorium) wins. The order is as follows: Nasa, Genius (these two are reversible), Woo, Wavemachine, Slinky, Exploritorium. Ok my initial purpose was a random thought that Dave graced our mortal ears with, brace yourself for its profoundness:
Girls Poop
Yep, they do, look at any anatomy chart, I mean they have to. The poopase enzyme combines the micro poopilli to create macro poopilli, this is common knowledge. But guys, honestly have you ever considered your antics in the bathroom for a #2. Now consider this, change yourself for a chick, doesn't that blow your mind? If you have already thought about this you are a sick sick person and you should probably change your homepage to: www.stileproject.com simply for his links to jap-scat-hentai-sex0r!
Till the morrow...
12/8
Ok so I know I'm not really updating till the 9th but this idea was spawned from the depths of my mind on the 8th as I tried to make these massive updates. Ok so the thing that came to me was the whole under-ware shopping fiasco. Well I probably should have used a plural back there but now all I can do is look back and cry. So why is it that every woman out there has some underlying plot to take me under-ware shopping with her? I mean honestly, I have only gone along 2 when I knew it was going to be an under-ware run. I'll be honest one of the times I only went because it was a free trip to San Francisco, and my mind was on the verge of snapping; so basically it was get the hell away from my problems or do something random and drastic. So the other instance I went along was simply because I enjoy making rude comments to random people in the mall. I mean where else can you tell someone, "I ate my neighbors shit," and walk away with a straight face, unless of course you actually do eat your neighbors shit; in which case I would say head over to stileproject or something like scateaters.com. Anyway my point is I have been deceived into going under-ware shopping about 15 or so times now, and I never seem to learn. I mean honestly how much dirty under-ware to girls need, they don't seem to understand there isn't really a point to it. Look at the situation; unless you are a nympho or something of the like you won't be wearing the lacey teddy for much more than a few minutes, and what happens after that? It goes to the closet rarely to be worn again if at all. Honestly guys do you really care that much about lingerie? The majority of the male populous doesn't (I did not say all of us don't ok? so don't get your panties all in knots women). Ok so what does the average male care about, or what do they think when their girlfriend or temporary slut comes out in something skanky? Well what is perceived as approval and excitement for the outfit is actually directed at the situation. Look at the situation in a healthy detached way, no matter what it is this guy is getting something; whether its a piece or the whole pie he is definitely not going home unhappy. I'm not saying all guys are like that, and I am definitely not saying I'm like that because after so many excursions to buy such things I have come to appreciate how much anxiety picking between a peek-a-boo teddy with a thong, and a shiny lacey bra with a garter belt takes. As for those that go under-ware shopping and not amuse themselves by looking at the dirt, well it is a sad world and you are the reason for my tears. What happened to the day when people wore things because they were comfortable? Long gone I say, taken away by big time clothing companies. You all understand by this point that I am vehemently opposed to the moronic things these companies do, and the best example is the current favorite (to my estimation) Abercrombie and Fitch. Where else could you go into a store that sports the most monotonous designs or lack thereof and actually pay MORE for such things as: jeans that have shit stains in their legs, hats that are pre-beat-to-hell, or pants that are all fucked up with strings hanging off the ends. Not saying that I am against random strings hanging, I am all for them actually, but they come with time and events, the pants I have that are falling apart have stories behind them, while at AF the only story you get is that of the small Guatemalan child that sowed them shoddily for your consuming ass. I had the displeasure of being completely drenched at a football game a few weeks ago, and returning to someone else's room where upon the only clean shirt to wear was...of course AF. Interesting enough: the cut of the shirt was terrible the relative comfort of the material was far better than I expected, obviously nothing compares to Russel for comfort but that is a given. So anyway I was lazy and wore the shirt for 3 days (sue me I felt like shit) and I figured out why people buy the clothes. Women are sexually attracted to something in AF clothes! I swear, I have never been hit on so many times in my life--not that I keep count--but its in the threads, or the colors, or the strings that were never trimmed off or perhaps they lace the shirts with pheromones, either way this is the reason for the vicious cycle that is AF. Its not because the clothes are good, its not because people actually like them, its because of their magnetic properties to the other sex. I was almost sad to see that shirt go...
12/25
I really want to update the random page because well lets face it, it is the only part of this web site that I actually enjoy. That statement is only true because the Mr.T tribute page is still under cunstruction, actually I still havent started on it so I'm just a big fucking liar arent I? Well I just have absolutely nothing to type about this time around and I cant really figure out why. I mean I always have something going though my head that either bothers or facinates me, but right now its empiter than Michael Jackson's bed. Maybe its this enviroment, you see I am updating at home for the first time and well, there is actuall stuff to do here, so I dont really have that massive delirum attack of the 3 o'clock hour that accompanies my usual surroundings. Plus I can bang away on the keys to my hearts content here, while normally I type...aww fuck it I will update once I feel like ranting. I mean I have plenty of shit to go off on, but I want to keep things a bit less personal and just strictly those random rants that go through the noggin. LATAR!
1/7
Where has my passion gone to? I feel as if the life has been sucked from me, I have nothing running though my head for the most part. At least nothing that counts as anything in my book. I discussed some thoughts with someone the other night, and I realized that I am totally consumed by stupidity at multiple times during my life. This my friends is one. The problem is that I cannot think straight about anything at this time, when I am clear headed you know the result, this web page is evidence of believe it or not, me when I am normal. But then again it comes to normal, being that there is no normal, what am I trying to be? This self questioning is bullshit, this inability to be in charge of my own emotions and thoughts not only harms but scares the shit out of me. Those that know me have seen me fluctuate from one pole of closeness to that distant cloudy disconnected pole. Well I don't know how or what caused me to fly from a pole I was inexplainably happy at to where I am now, but my goal is simple: to get back. Its not a matter of regaining lost mind-state though, it is much more complex. I am not going to sit here and force myself to think of random things that do not flow freely though me, that is not what I am about, I am attempting to let myself remain in that phase where everything is lucid and I am fearless of the world. Maybe it is just being back here at school and a new set of uncertainties that are being forced upon me, in fact I am sure that is a great deal of my discontentedness at this present time. It is hard for someone to realize what is bothering them, and even harder to convince themselves that they are the one and only problem? And how do you go about solving a problem that is inherently insolvable? You don't... Simply dust off the phonograph, toss on the Moody Blues, bring out that trusty box of Tide, shake your ass, but remember to watch yourself... oh and scratch my back.
Where's my pineapple?... I'm going to my room!!
1/18
Ok so I never came though with that rant about fear and whatnot, because well I was afraid to post it. Trust me if you were privy to seeing it you would thank me for not posting such a horrid and depraved piece of shit. Not to say that anything I post here is worth anyone's time but hey, this one was an extreme case of shittyness. So 'member when I typed that shit in the above paragraph about losing my passion for doing things... well after a nice upward motion-of-the-ocean it seems that I cannot avoid that same garbage. What I cannot stand is when I realize that I am not in control of my own emotions and moods. What the hell is wrong with me I say as I certianly am not in control of my own moods. So I think to myself in this state, I think, "Self, just who the hell is in control of my mood if it isnt me? Well self lets brainstorm... is it a girl? No no no self, see this is a bad mood, that would [generally] be a good mood... Oh yes self that is right... Ok well lets see what could bum me out..." This continued for a good few hours, in fact it felt like I watched 2010 about 30 times during this conversation with myself, still coming to no conclusion... So out comes the music, what else can change moods better right? I still can think reasonably... Ok so its doing nothing for me, and has done nothing for me all damn day... Yeah so here I am trying to figure out myself, its not that bad of a mood comparatively, and those that know me will probably breathe a sign of relief upon realizing that. I am just feeling totally unfunny and completely isolated and astray from all that I love and think is worth loving. That does sound really harsh doesnt it? ahhh its nothing, nothing that is going to impede me from doing my dailies and whatnot, but its tearing my friendships apart... Acting like an ass, espically when you are trying more than everything not to is just, well its disheartening to me. Maybe I just need some time away, but I will not give myself that. I could for all intents and purposes be possessed by Bob Saget, or the entire cast of Tempation Island. Either way trust me, I am not really happy with my actions and I really wish I would just cut it out. Oh yeah and I do have every reason to be in a better mood thanks to two people that are making every effort despite my mood. Hopefully I will get a real hardcore rant out in the next day and resume normal life... whatever normal is
oh yes and remember: ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!!!!
1/19
Wow, today I think for at least awhile I am out of that horrid hole, and thanks to something amazing. No I am not talking about crack for once....
Interrupted for Immediate Life Altering Situations**
**read as: The Critic was on
1/29
Why is
it that when things are going great in your life, that time passes so
fast? I mean its like someone has a twisted sense of humor that draws out
all the painful moments in our lives to an inmeasurable length almost as
if it was the alabama rattle snake! I mean why do the good things go by so
fast? We need to install slow motion switches in our domes so that when
things are going great we can prolong it, and savor it as if it were the
last Wheat Thin in the box, I'm talkin about the last WHOLE wheat thin,
you know the really crunchy one? with all the salt, its perhaps the best
thing in the world. I mean if you forget about deodorant, acoustic music,
London, and food (except Thai food cause it sucks my ass). So yeah back to
that bit about installing slow-mo switches in our brains, well see I have
always been a bit pissed about how either you cannot remember the details
of a good day/event/whatnot and yet you can remember every instant of the
most agonizingly long three seconds in which you broke your arm. I mean
who the fuck plays a kind of cruel joke on us like that? The sad thing is
I cannot remember one moment of this summer... does that mean that I had
the time of my life? Or does it mean that I have alzheimer's? I honestly
dont remember shit, I remember there was a party at which a lot of jive
went down, and then there was the hostage situation and then there was
hawaii and whatever the hell happened there, and after that there was a
lot of time spent with an incredibly special person. I'm not talking paraplegic
special, I'm talking holy shit my summer went by in 3 seconds cause you
are the greatest thing since sliced bread and yoohoo kind of special. I
can't relive a damn moment of it, and people bitch at me for not making
the most of my time here now because I would like to try and recount the
events of this summer. So yeah my conclusion and perhaps the only logical
way to live life is with the slow-mo switch. I figure if you can drill
into the side of your skull that corresponds to the area of the brain that
has the internal clock and our concept of the time continuum or whatever
the fuck you want to call it. All we need is a simple box switch thinggy,
you know what I'm talking about that lockbox like thing that sits in your
wall and you flip shit on and off? We can just go to Home Depot, or OSH if
Home Depot runs out of them or we get stuck jousting in the wood isle or
perhaps smelling the pvc glue again...Yes anyway, to dull the pain I
figure we can just get into your old man's alcohol stash, besides he is a
raving alcoholic anyway he will be too shitfaced to notice we are stealing
his last bottle of Jim Beam. After ingesting this bottle in roughly 37.5
seconds let subject stand for about 5 minutes, allowing vomitting to occur
if necessary. Now this is your chance to install the slow-mo switch
utilize a power drill at this point otherwise the victim
subject could resist, once installed obtain some sort of furry animal.
This is to hide the switch, match hair color with whatever animal you can,
dog, cat, hamster, all are acceptable donors. Now we have solved the
problem of our lives best moments going by too fast, no matter how much
blood loss or discomfort your "friend" experiences due to the
installation process just remind him/her that when it really hurts just
flip the switch to the fast position. Trust me, they will thank you later
when they have that defining moment in their lives (such as finding in
their Gummi Bears two Bear bodies sharing one head) they can just flip
that switch to slow, and relish every second of that doublestuff oreo.
Satan Says
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