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Walking home adventures.

Sep. 12th, 2007 | 04:23 pm

I walked to school today. I saw a bird in the road, and thought of how unkind it is for people to run over already dead animals. So, taking a leaf from an overhanging tree, I moved him as delicately as I could to the roadside. I promised him a proper burial if I saw him again in the afternoon.

So I walked home and saw him, laying in the grass where I left him.

"Hello, feathery comrade, you have been here quite a while, I see," I said to him.

"How can you tell?" he asked, neck permanently snapped up toward me.

"Well, my friend, your eye is eaten out by ants. I'm sure it would be most unpleasant if you could feel them.

"Dramatic irony," he replied. "I've eaten so many of these ants in my life, it's karma, I suppose."

"Yes, yes. But I promised you a burial out of the sun, so that you may rot quietly and away from poking, prodding children. The earth will eat your body and take you back into it's soil, so that you may carry worms, food, for your children."

"It sounds nice when you put it like that," he replied, sun bleached feathers starting to dull.

"Here, I'll give you something to lay in, so that the rain won't ruin your grave too quickly," I said, finding my sketchbook. I tore a page from the binding and wrote a simple RIP on the paper.

"Thank you," he told me, seeming grateful for the quiet departure.

I began digging a hole for the bird, long enough to hold him tale to beak. I dug as far down as I could manage with no shovel and the hard, rocky dirt only inches in.

"Goodnight, my feathery comrade," I told him, laying him in his paper coffin in his grave, covering it over with the dead mossy dirt.

I stood and walked home, wondering that if I died tomorrow, if someone would give me the courtesy of conversation and a hole in the ground.

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Good while it lasted.

Sep. 5th, 2007 | 05:07 pm

That was good while it lasted. My brains feel numb. In any case. I dunno.


I guess I'm single now.

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My feeeeeet. My baaaack.

Sep. 1st, 2007 | 11:09 am

Yeah. Walking to school everyday on York road will DO THAT.

two and a half miles of hills. And a messenger bag.

Here, let me make it concise instead of describing this shit.
Yeah, this is my journal, you can deal with it cluttering your friend's page. 8D

THIS IS BY rejecttemptation.deviantart.com


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What Do You Have To Say? - Time Travel

Aug. 30th, 2007 | 05:10 pm

If you could travel back in time to spend a day with someone, who would it be and why?

Hitler. So that I could see exactly how crappy his paintings were, and to give him ideas for uniforms that would look silly so that I could wear visor caps in public and not be asked "Are you a nazi?"

Hammer and sickle =/= Nazi.

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Aug. 13th, 2007 | 01:32 pm

So I DO have guttate psoriasis, but that's temporary. But the thing is, the big ones are plaque. Which can be a chronic condition. Which is actually on my top ten of things I don't want the rest of my life. I think I'd really much rather lose an eye.
And all I can do is hope that I don't have plaque psoriasis. Oh joy.

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Extreme Retardation.

Aug. 8th, 2007 | 07:32 pm

No, I'm not talking about special ed, I'm talking about me. But it'll all make sense very soon if it doesn't already.

For those of you who know me pretty well, you know I love to make cookies. Hardcore. So.I get out the processor to blend ingredients. I'm listening to music, I think that's very important.

So first I put flour in a measuring cup, but I don't have enough. So, instead of opening to the new bag all the way, I try to pour flour into the cup out of a very small hole. And I do this until there is enough flour.

Then I get the baking soda. I measure it right, but them I somehow miss the bowl and put it all over the front of my shirt. I have no idea how I did this. Still listening to music.

Then I get the salt. Thankfully I never measure over the bowl. I don't realize that if I continue pouring salt into the 1/2 teaspoon spoon that it will over flow. And my reation is so delated that there is now salt over the counter top and floor.

After the clean up, I put in the butter and sugar. All is fine. Then the egg. Oh jesus.

I just kinda smash an egg into the bottom of a separate bowl. I take the big halves out. A little eggshell never hurt anyone. Still listening to music.

Then I realize I never turned on the oven, and at the rate I'm going I probably shouldn't. I now have a pound of chilled cookie dough, though.

EDIT: forgot the conclusion. Still listening to music D: Well. The conclusion is that music retards me. So if I'm driving, don't turn on the radio or play a CD. I will crash.

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Historicon, BITCHES.

Jul. 31st, 2007 | 03:01 pm

Historicon was awesome. I must say. It was weird, too because I saw and did a lot of cool stuff.


3:00 AM- I wake up, get ready etc.
3:45 AM- Abe and Ben finally pick me up. We head for Lancaster, PA
4:00 AM- We start singing Linkin park to stay awake. Abe buys four Red Bulls and Ben buys one as well for later.
5:20 AM- We see a Sonic and Abe fucking freaks out and scares the shit out of everyone in the car.
For way too long- We wander the same road a few times because we're retarded and passed it a whole bunch.
6:00 AM- We set up for the 8 hour Warhammer 40k mega-battle
6:50 AM- We head over to Sonic to eat because Abe is obsessed or something. We are the first people they serve that day. We tip generously and Abe practically inhales his tatter tots. Something about eating fast, army, Bosnia, blah blah blah. Walking back, I see a dead bat in to road. I've never seen a dead bat before with the fur and stuff.
Until 9:00 AM- Abe explains what the shit we're doing. After crazy setting up and repairing the 'nids that didn't like the trip to Lancaster. We also finally register. Abe doesn't let me pretend to be 14 to get a free admission. He pays for the registration.
9:00 AM
-  We start the mega battle. It is fucking mega. The play table was six feet by twelve feet. Abe actually explains what's going on in the battle unlike the only other Warhammer table in the whole joint. We had fun. They did not. I also walk to Sonic for my break to bring Abe some food. I see the bat again, though it is much less recognizably a bat. I steal some of his tatter tots.
4:00 PM- Mission objectives are met on both tables. My raveners don't die before striking for once finally.
5:00 PM- We get out of Historicon. Abe is on his fifth Red Bull. However, we learn that he has been awake for more than 48 hours at this point. he starts crashing faster than he can pick himself up. I force him to take back seat to his brother, Ben.
The eternity it feels like to get home- I quickly realize why Abe was so reluctant to let Ben drive. Though he's 23, I constantly had to remind him to stop tailgating, slow the fuck down, and reassure him we were on the right road. For those of you who don't know, it's a STRAIGHT LINE to Lancaster. There is ONE TURN after getting onto 83. ONE. JUST ONE, and thats to get off onto and exit. AND THERE'S STILL NO TURNS.
Abe cannot sleep even though he's not driving because he just KNOWS something terrible will happen if he falls asleep. We drive into a fucking crazy thunderstorm. I have to tell Ben to pull off the road because we can't see at all. When we get back onto the road after the calm, I have to remind Ben to wipe his windshield because I have no idea why he needs to be told that he should be able to see out the front.
7:00 PM- We get to Abe's apartment. They crash and I watch CSI and Naruto with Alyssa.

Good times :D I'll provide a link to the battle repot for anyone who wants to know what happened in the seven hour gap XD.


They're all: "They can't even ground themselves in reality!" And I'm thinking. aren't the battles they're playing fantasy, too? I mean. they don't have monsters, but jesus. The battles they're playing aren't real, either! Snootiness! Everywhere it is! Oh well. I hate children ages 6-13 even more now though! This one boy who had about as much of a strategy battle plan as a radish stayed the ENTIRE GAME. and he was all "I know everything about Warhammer ever!!!1". Ugh. We already have enough people like that. See: Greg from Yorkridge Games Workshop.

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Jul. 23rd, 2007 | 11:02 pm

Hay, I know you're reading my journal. Personally, I don't care. You can read what you want. Marty can talk to who he wants. Shit, you guys can be friends. I'll talk to you civilly and shit. Just whatever you fucking do, I don't want to see Marty hurt over something retardedly trivial. And also, Brad was a dumb thing to mention. For seriously. Marty really doesn't want to talk to you right now because it made a lot of bad shit resurface, but if you feel you need to relay something, I don't care if you do through me.

I'm honestly over everything and I actually don't hate you. I had to think about this. I just felt like being a bitch at Otakon because it's really easy. So whatever. Hivefleetarctic is where you can find me on Instant messenger.

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New York sucked balls.

Jul. 17th, 2007 | 09:34 pm
mood: angry

Alright. Chronological order, GO!

1. Woke up, had ten minutes to get ready.
2. Even though the New York visit was ABOUT ME, my mom took my fucktarded half brother along too, even though she knows I want to beat his face in until no one even knows he's human.
3. I had to wear shoes that weren't even mine because I couldn't find mine due to having NO TIME.
4. Robert, my shit-for-brains half brother, as he always does, does nothing I ask or tell him to do even if its for his own benefit. He acts as though my opinion holds no weight ever.
5. I go to the FIT presentation, however, all the wannabe fashion kids keep asking questions that were already answered. I ask a question, but aparently it has to be answered after all of the barely-English speaking people are done and everyone leaves.
6. I tell the failure of human parts of a half brother that I'm upset that he treats me like I'm retarded, so he makes an "impression" of me. This is so INCREDIBLY uncalled for. Eye for an eye, eh? Well, I wasn't thinking anyway. I was past that. I scream in his face that I will punch in his fucking face. Mom gets mad at me even though she later admits she doesn't blame me and it really is all of his fault.
7. I step in vomit and freak out.
8. I get in stupid and pointless arguments with Karl.
9. On the ride home the bus plays a really stupid movie MUCH too loud and I can't sleep.
10. Here I am, my day wasted when I could have done a million other things with my 5:30 Am to 9:30 PM.

Fuck I fucking hate that shit face fucktard in the next fucking room. Eat shit, Robert Brewer Stephens. Get stalked and killed.

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Anthrocon. Yeah.

Jul. 8th, 2007 | 06:18 pm
mood: Ugh.

Okay. I liked the rave well enough, and the stand-up comedy was awesome, but god damn. Some people need to shut the fuck up 90% of the time. I also feel like shit because I pretty much let Timmothy get molested. This one furfaggot kept going on about condoms to us, and I didn't stop him from hugging her and shit and I wanted to kill him but I had no fucking clue what to do. After the fact and before the fact, I would have thought clearly, but during I was totally useless.

But I did tell security about him, but it seemed to not do anything, because I could tell that he still wanted to talk to us. Fucking damn it. If you find a guy at a furcon who's like "I'M NOT A HUMAN!!!!!11" and he's really fucking fat, has the step down from a unibrow and a speech impediment that makes him sound British, but he's actually from New Jersey, then turn him into the FBI because he will try to rape you and it won't be pretty AT ALL.

Besides that pedo-furfag, it was boring most of the time, but really cool at other times. I bought stuff and spent time with my girlfriend, but damn. Her brother is only cool when you spend as little time as possible with him.

And not to be ungrateful, but DAMN can Timmothy's parents argue. Like. All the fucking time. Fdgsfs. Okay. I know Otakon will be better, guys.

Ugh. Maybe next time it'll be about Timmothy and me and not about all these superfluous shitheads around us.

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