Date:	2008-09-09 18:17
Subject:	Let me enter you with my keyboard, thoughts.
Security:	Public
Mood:	, go

I'm working every day this week and I have a burn on my left-hand thumb. It rained today. I dropped a box of fish on the ground two times in a row and had to pick up and clean each piece. Stuffed peppers are pretty tasty. I don't mind if anyone disagrees. A phone is ringing and I'm not going to answer/get someone to answer it because I'm just hard like that, I think. There goes the voice mail beep. Queefs. My opinions died.

Well, we're on the eve of Genesis now. It's been a long and arduous road, but bravery and steadfastness have prevailed once again. To all those unfortunate enough to be left behind, I weep for you. But take solice in the notion that fate has chosen you for whatever you may face. Children will be told of our exploits.

Ah, I think you can disregard that last shit.

For the first time in my life i've just felt the fear of combat. I'm hopped up on DXM and I can feel the fear. I didn't understand what those guys were talking about in all those war movies and stories until now. I can fully see how crazy one would have to be to run at a person holding a gun. This is real and I like it. I feel more manly than ever before, and I hope I can keep it up. This is some sort of introspective nightmare, made real. Seriously, though. I hope I never have to stare down the barel of a gun in Iraq or some shit. Just playing Counterstrike or something is filling me with dread. I can see why people kill, but I don't accept the possability of death as an end. what the fuck. I need other people to feel alright. I'm dead fucking serious. I wonder what I'll think when I'm alright.

In 6 days it'll be Naoko Yamano's birthday. And in celebration, I plan on doing exactly nothing. Though, I may appreciate things like hot chocolate and giant kitties a bit more than usual. We'll see.

I think Dad's dying.

Yeah, this is bullshit.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Philadelphia Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington. if you've ever journeyed to some far off place where people don't know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird even though they didn't have a clue what accent it was they heard.
The Northeast
The Midland
The Inland North
The South
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

Nah, nevermind. I feel just fine.

Funny thing happened the other day. After getting driven into town by Quyen's Non-English-speaking mom, we had to all go to the Bank at the edge of China Town (the one that caters to non-english-speakers) to sign Quyen up for his first Bank account. Apparently he'd never had one. He told me that when as a kid he asked his dad how much money he had in the bank, and good ol' Mr. Nghiem just sort of told him he didn't fucking have any. So today he could start. I tell you, it's fairly awkward to hang around with an old Chinese woman and her son for no apparent reason, but it's something entirely different to be sitting in the same room with them while they fill out forms and give out vital info to a bank lady while you yourself have no real connection to the two, like the third wheel that I was. I couldn't understand the conversation, as it was a surprising mix of Cantonese and English all thrown together, sometimes rapid-fire, but I could tell it went something like this:

"Hello"
"Hello, what can I do for you today?"
"I'm here to open a bank account for my son."
"Which one, this proud, young Chinese boy, or this ragged white kid who looks like that guy from I Heart Huckabees?"
"Oh, the one on my left is my son. I don't know who that other one is, but he eats all our damn food."
"I understand. Young Chinese boys love to have their friends eat their food so they can look superior. Let's get started then, shall we? As you see on my monitor, the..."

At some point Quyen's mom wanted Quyen to put more money in the meter, but Quyen just suggested that I do it instead. I didn't know which car was theirs, desepite me having just ridden in it axactly 15 minutes prior. Whatever, it was a cute moment.

$35 for a Ping Pong Paddle rubber?

I'm not feeling very fulfilled.

So far in college I've:

-done three Sudoku puzzles in my "Algebra" class as per the requirements
-seen Neil twice
-seen Neil's brother's dick once
-considered buying a three-foot long pipe
-bought a ping pong paddle (or blade) instead
-heard the song "Rock Lobster" roughly 15-20 times
-ignored three hobos
-learned to respect my big, gay Philosophy teacher
-spent more time at Temple's Student Center than CCP altogether
-not taken bullshit from the Lord
-seen the first attractive girl on my block in my entire life
-discussed "detailed" distillation plans
-done no actual work

Not even done week one yet. No fault of mine.

I'm never going camping again.

Neil pointed out to me a little while back that the last week or so has been ridiculous. I had to point out to him in typical pseudo-intellectual fashion that it in fact wasn't the week that was ridiculous, but rather that he was a dumbass. But it still amazes me how much teenage bullshit I nearly missed out on. Stuff like beer runs, gut rot, Vlad and half-heartedly trying to pick up girls I don't know. I say all that stuff is fine as is. But it's not the fun of going around asking if some guy can buy alcohol for us that makes these years precious. I really couldn't give a damn if I miss out on another bigass party in town or don't quite make it with that chick with the tits. That's not where the good times come from. I would be happy and probably better off just taking the easy road through life enjoying the shit I know everybody else does. But I know that through it all, I manage to grit my teeth during the shit just so I can get to the real fun. All I need is Roxanne. You don't have to put on your red shoes. Also I'm lazy.

So my webpage is down now I assume. Nobody cares.

This isn't an entry or anything, I'm just sick of seeing those stupid animations of myself every time I log in.

I just looked at some super smooth-ass Street Fighter III character animations and I feel like shit.

I figure I can pop out some 100 'aught more of these before I get fucking bored and focus my attention on video games again.

So I've just spent the last several hours getting gradually pumped up listening to some of the most upwardly-pumping music on the face of the planet. And it's no small coincidence that much of that music was performed by Jackie Chan. Add that on top of being psyched up to 100 by watching The Immortal Yi Soon Shin and you've got one seriously PUMPED UP person. I feel like I'm going to burst, much like that guy at the end of Big Trouble in Little China who expanded so much he popped for no reason. Oh my god. I wish I was living in Korea in the 16th century so I could take the Naval entry exams and beat the shit out of the Japanese with cannons and what-not. Then I could do something really upright and heroic. Plus, I could wear a headband all the time since everybody wore headbands then and there no matter what. Fuck.

Date:	2006-04-11 22:02
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	and shitty
Music:	Shaolin kung fu is awesome

Dr. Sbaitso is depressing.

I wish I was friends with Jackie Chan. He'd know how to have a good time. He'd probably show up a my house all the time doing wicked stunts like jumping from a helicopter or something of that nature. No doubt he'd show me how to do wall-kicks and how to drop from a 2 storie building and not get hurt. Then we'd drink a lot of milk and work out. And just maybe, we'd get into some ridiculous adventure involving ancient artifacts or evil aristocrats named Mondale or something. Good god, Jackie.