Today, I will be resting.
Today, I will be trying to figure out all the details from last night.
But, my memory is serving me fairly well so let's see how much I can scrounge up about last night's debauchery.
(I apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar errors, I'm still drunk. At 12:56 P.M.)
Anyways, it starts like this. HORRIBLY. In terms of planning and figuring out what we were going to be doing for the night, I give it two hearty thumbs down. Wait a second, let's back up a tick. The whole purpose of last night was to celebrate my new friend Sam Guyre's 21st birthday. Turns out I drank WAY more than she did. Go figure.
And we're back to the story. So we do a bunch of last second planning, and in the midst of the chaos and confusion, I buy a bottle of UV Blue and begin to drink it straight from the bottle (shows how much of an alcoholic I am). We end up touching base in the hotel room we have set aside for us if push comes to shove. Sam starts getting ready, I start socializing with some new people and chugging said vodka.
Finally, Sam is ready.
After a bit more debate about the itinerary for the evening, we decide to drive down to a local club, Club Inferno. The place is dead. But that's alright, I'm there, so of course it's going to be amazing. It's what I do. Anyways, I make friends with a guy named Bobby (I still don't know where he is or if he ever made it back safe to...wherever), who seems like the perfect guy to buy all of Sam's drinks. Boom, just hooked Sam with a one way pass to the toilet for the rest of the night.
Drinking continues. I eventually convince Alexis to dance with me. She was right, she does suck at dancing. It's ok though, I had enough moves for the both of us.
More drinking, probably up to 6 or 7 AMF's within an hour. I am feeling good. Me and my new Asian best friend Ken Tran, along with Bobby and a few others, are having a great time looking at beautiful women and getting absolutely drunk.
We move to Graycie's, a small bar down the street. By the time we get in though, it's almost time for the joint to close. I pound two more AMF's in an attempt to get me really going. It works.
After Graycie's, we go to someone's house, and problems start popping up. Mainly, a lot of people end up leaving, and it throws a wrench in whatever crappy plans we had at that point. We discuss ideas for a tick, and decide to head to Alexis' house for an after party. Mind you, I am gone at this point. Anyways, I decide to go in the car that's going to the hotel, so I can pick up the remains of my bottle of course. That doesn't happen.
INTERMISSION
Ok, so we're driving back to the hotel, and I am blasted. I decide, even though I don't need to throw up, I'm going to force it on myself, something my buddy Zach G taught me. Well, I get out of the car and proceed to vomit up a substance similar to an anti-freeze slushie. It tasted amazing with the added bile. I do this for all of ten minutes. And since it is Utah in the heart of winter, I am freezing. Literally. So I decide to go inside to the saferoom and warm up while the rest of the crew is finishing up. Worst mistake of the night. As I go in, they go out. And then they leave without me (I'm not blaming anyone, it was just bad timing). So I walk back outside and try to figure out what the crap just happened.
Mind you, it's in the 20's outside, and I'm pacing back in forth in nothing but jeans and a hoodie. I am not ready for this arctic trek. I'm outside for what seems like half of forever, and manage to get some friends to head my way to pick me up. In the meantime, Alexis calls Lauren and tells her to open the door so I can get out of the third ice age happening outside. While I'm waiting for the door to open, I witness a drug deal, or a murder, I'm not sure. I don't even care at this point. My brain has shut down. Finally, I get in the room, and I decide to do what every person does when they're completely faded, text ex's. Bad choice, but I needed to stay awake, so I didn't care.
Eventually, my rescue party arrives. Short story shorter, we decide to go to a house party. I am a little sobered up at this point, so of course I'm down. We get to the residence, and I am ready to engage my hyperfun drives. I get reunited with Ken Tran, who is more than ready to pass out, and a couple others from earlier. Everyone seems to be more drunk than me, which I am proud of, being the alcoholic I am (Mom, Dad, if you're reading this, I'm not an alcoholic, no worries). Anyways, we start playing some card games, and continue to drink. Heavily. I throw up in the bathroom, and of course, keep playing the game. Eventually, I win like a boss with a hand that NEVER happens. Ever. Seriously. I am ready to pass out at this point. So I find Alexis, who is also a bit intoxicated, and I pass out on her shoulder for all of who knows how long.
This pretty much ends the night. We organize a ride back to Alexis' house, I arrive, I flatline until about two hours ago. I am still drunk. I am still amazing. This is my life, and it's getting higher by the minute.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Brand New
Do you remember little Johnny from down on the corner?
Yeah, he died last week of a drug overdose.
And young Susie, who used to pick flowers from our yard?
Did you know she committed suicide last year?
The world's falling down around us,
yet here we stand,
facing hand in hand.
And I'm begging everyone out there,
to anyone who's listening,
to look around and see the light,
the stars in the middle of the night.
Break free of your rusty old cages,
shake off the decrepit decaying chains of oppression,
scrape off the rust,
shake off the dust,
and do something that's a whole lot of fun,
and maybe a little dangerous.
Tell the preachers and the teachers,
the messiahs and the creatures,
the Susies and the Johnnies,
the Bretts and the Bonnies,
tell them to leave you to your fate.
Tell it to the newsman,
the taxman,
the lame man and the stray man,
the winners and the losers,
the victims and the choosers,
this is your life.
And take everything you love,
and everything you hate,
ball it up and throw it in the bin,
like this messy writ sheet of paper.
Light the world up in flames,
not of destruction,
but of warmth and healing,
because there's not enough caring,
and there's not enough feeling,
and the stomach of the mechanical monster shall be set reeling,
in an attempt to cover up our crimes of joy and the highs we're dealing,
Who are you waving that flag for?
In remembrance of the Susiesand Johnnies?
Because I want to remember us as free and wild,
with the strength of ten men and the mind of a child.
I want to remember the innocence we threw away,
in exchange for drugs and minimum pay.
I want to speak of the tales of old,
where good men sought dames instead of false gold.
So tell this to any Susie you meet,
and to any Johnny you greet,
stay a while,
crack a smile.
And if it doesn't get any better,
start again,
brand new.
Yeah, he died last week of a drug overdose.
And young Susie, who used to pick flowers from our yard?
Did you know she committed suicide last year?
The world's falling down around us,
yet here we stand,
facing hand in hand.
And I'm begging everyone out there,
to anyone who's listening,
to look around and see the light,
the stars in the middle of the night.
Break free of your rusty old cages,
shake off the decrepit decaying chains of oppression,
scrape off the rust,
shake off the dust,
and do something that's a whole lot of fun,
and maybe a little dangerous.
Tell the preachers and the teachers,
the messiahs and the creatures,
the Susies and the Johnnies,
the Bretts and the Bonnies,
tell them to leave you to your fate.
Tell it to the newsman,
the taxman,
the lame man and the stray man,
the winners and the losers,
the victims and the choosers,
this is your life.
And take everything you love,
and everything you hate,
ball it up and throw it in the bin,
like this messy writ sheet of paper.
Light the world up in flames,
not of destruction,
but of warmth and healing,
because there's not enough caring,
and there's not enough feeling,
and the stomach of the mechanical monster shall be set reeling,
in an attempt to cover up our crimes of joy and the highs we're dealing,
Who are you waving that flag for?
In remembrance of the Susiesand Johnnies?
Because I want to remember us as free and wild,
with the strength of ten men and the mind of a child.
I want to remember the innocence we threw away,
in exchange for drugs and minimum pay.
I want to speak of the tales of old,
where good men sought dames instead of false gold.
So tell this to any Susie you meet,
and to any Johnny you greet,
stay a while,
crack a smile.
And if it doesn't get any better,
start again,
brand new.
Monday, December 12, 2011
The Next Generation
This is coming straight off the top of my head, so I apologize in advance for any cluttering.
That being said, let's talk about children and XBox. To start off with, I believe that children absolutely have a right to play XBox. It can develop mental capabilities, increase brain-muscular circulation, so on and so forth. There are great games out there for kids to play, Guitar Hero, sports games, anything on Kinect, the list keeps going. Modern Warfare 3 is NOT an appropriate game for children. Especially online. Even more so if they have a headset on.
This isn't a warning to parents, this is a bulletin to the children (and anyone who acts like a child, you know who you are) on XBox Live. I want to give you a few rules to follow (again, this goes for everyone) that will increase everyone's desire to play with you.
Here we go:
Having a microphone on your ear does not make it open mic night. You are not a good singer. You are definitely not a good rapper. And no, I do not want to hear Justin Bieber blaring through my headset because you think his magical singing powers will help you do better. They won't. You suck regardless.
Whining EVERY time you die. I get it. Sometimes people camp. Sometimes your Internet is slow. Most of the time though, it's because you yet again suck. A little frustration is okay. It's understandable. I do it sometimes when I'm getting stomped. I'm just saying, pump the brakes. If you get mad over a videogame that easily, you're not going to live long. Your stress levels will be through the roof for the rest of your life.
If you don't think you suck, you suck. Too many times have I heard eight year olds tell me that they're in the MLG. No. You're not. Your K/D ratio proves that. There's no need to be cocky on XBox, no one cares. 90% of us are there to have fun, not see who's scoreboard is more impressive. Get a life.
Don't quit halfway through the game. Even if you're doing horrible. I've seen enough comebacks from the opposing team to know that anybody can win at the last second. If you quit playing one match, why are you playing any matches?Wait until the game is over, then leave the lobby. Maybe if you were paying more attention to the game instead of singing out of key, you'd be doing better anyway.
Enough with the side conversations. If you're talking to your "BFF" next to you, turn off the mic. I don't care about how mean your teachers are, or how cute you think your girlfriend is. She's the same age as you, and she hasn't hit puberty yet. You're clones. If you're going to talk during a game, talk about the game. If you have no strategies to share with anyone, don't talk. If you do, feel free to share. It's a group effort. What I don't need is a good team trying to communicate a plan, and the sound of your prepubescent voice overshadowing everything.
Don't try and get in an argument with me. Trust me. I will verbally destroy you. I have no sympathy. I am a full fledged nerd, and talking trash on Call of Duty is what I do best. Don't give me a reason to start.
Don't yell into the mic. We can hear you just fine unfortunately. If we can't, we'll tell you to speak up. The last thing I need is to go deaf from a kid who's a third of my age.
Remember, playing Call of Duty is a priviledge, especially for you, since I know for a fact you're not old enough to legally play this game. Treat everyone with respect, and we'll give you the same amount. Golden rule. You should have learned that by now.
In the loading screen, when you can't see who's talking, we know it's you talking. You're the only person that has the voice box of a canary. It's pretty obvious.
If you're funny, by all means, crack a joke or two. If you're not funny, stop trying to be funny. Just stop.
Don't be a hypocrite. You can't complain about the camper who just shot your face off when I watched you camp for the last five games, and still lose the game for us. Once again, you suck.
Finally, if you're playing on hardcore, do NOT use martyrdom. I will hurt you. And do not team kill. I will hurt you even more.
Well, that's it. I know a lot of these points are somewhat repetitive in nature, and very disorganized, but you'll have to deal with it. I'm supposed to be working right now.
That being said, let's talk about children and XBox. To start off with, I believe that children absolutely have a right to play XBox. It can develop mental capabilities, increase brain-muscular circulation, so on and so forth. There are great games out there for kids to play, Guitar Hero, sports games, anything on Kinect, the list keeps going. Modern Warfare 3 is NOT an appropriate game for children. Especially online. Even more so if they have a headset on.
This isn't a warning to parents, this is a bulletin to the children (and anyone who acts like a child, you know who you are) on XBox Live. I want to give you a few rules to follow (again, this goes for everyone) that will increase everyone's desire to play with you.
Here we go:
Having a microphone on your ear does not make it open mic night. You are not a good singer. You are definitely not a good rapper. And no, I do not want to hear Justin Bieber blaring through my headset because you think his magical singing powers will help you do better. They won't. You suck regardless.
Whining EVERY time you die. I get it. Sometimes people camp. Sometimes your Internet is slow. Most of the time though, it's because you yet again suck. A little frustration is okay. It's understandable. I do it sometimes when I'm getting stomped. I'm just saying, pump the brakes. If you get mad over a videogame that easily, you're not going to live long. Your stress levels will be through the roof for the rest of your life.
If you don't think you suck, you suck. Too many times have I heard eight year olds tell me that they're in the MLG. No. You're not. Your K/D ratio proves that. There's no need to be cocky on XBox, no one cares. 90% of us are there to have fun, not see who's scoreboard is more impressive. Get a life.
Don't quit halfway through the game. Even if you're doing horrible. I've seen enough comebacks from the opposing team to know that anybody can win at the last second. If you quit playing one match, why are you playing any matches?Wait until the game is over, then leave the lobby. Maybe if you were paying more attention to the game instead of singing out of key, you'd be doing better anyway.
Enough with the side conversations. If you're talking to your "BFF" next to you, turn off the mic. I don't care about how mean your teachers are, or how cute you think your girlfriend is. She's the same age as you, and she hasn't hit puberty yet. You're clones. If you're going to talk during a game, talk about the game. If you have no strategies to share with anyone, don't talk. If you do, feel free to share. It's a group effort. What I don't need is a good team trying to communicate a plan, and the sound of your prepubescent voice overshadowing everything.
Don't try and get in an argument with me. Trust me. I will verbally destroy you. I have no sympathy. I am a full fledged nerd, and talking trash on Call of Duty is what I do best. Don't give me a reason to start.
Don't yell into the mic. We can hear you just fine unfortunately. If we can't, we'll tell you to speak up. The last thing I need is to go deaf from a kid who's a third of my age.
Remember, playing Call of Duty is a priviledge, especially for you, since I know for a fact you're not old enough to legally play this game. Treat everyone with respect, and we'll give you the same amount. Golden rule. You should have learned that by now.
In the loading screen, when you can't see who's talking, we know it's you talking. You're the only person that has the voice box of a canary. It's pretty obvious.
If you're funny, by all means, crack a joke or two. If you're not funny, stop trying to be funny. Just stop.
Don't be a hypocrite. You can't complain about the camper who just shot your face off when I watched you camp for the last five games, and still lose the game for us. Once again, you suck.
Finally, if you're playing on hardcore, do NOT use martyrdom. I will hurt you. And do not team kill. I will hurt you even more.
Well, that's it. I know a lot of these points are somewhat repetitive in nature, and very disorganized, but you'll have to deal with it. I'm supposed to be working right now.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
A Continuation of Aggravated Emotions.
Alright people, check it out. If you're still here, you made the first cut. The other people who didn't, it's because they didn't have the backbone to withstand some good old fashioned truth. Screw them. Let's get this party started.
Facebook Retards:
Let me explain something. This is not directed at "mentally challenged" people. Why do I have mentally challenged in quotes? Because some of you out there make these people look like they were Einstein's prodigal sons and daughters. Most idiots, I can tolerate on a regular basis. But no, they had to make the Internet a public access system, where anyone with a metal spoon and copper wire can connect to the World Weetarded Web. Don't know if your friend (or evenworse, yourself) is a Facebook retard?
Here's some sure-fire ways to find out:
(Note: this list is NOT finished, I'll find others and hunt them down)
1). Gratuitous amounts of spelling errors. One or two I can deal with. You're on the go, and I make mistakes typing with my phone too (believe it or not, I make mistakes). It's when you're over-the-top blatantly retarded that I consider you over-the-top blatantly retarded.
2). People who put "like my status" in their status...
I...
HATE...
YOU...
Nothing says I'm a stupid megalomaniac waste of space quite like this. That's like giving a speech at a funeral, bringing a megaphone, and screaming into it, 'GIVE ME A STANDING OVATION AFTER THIS SPEECH THAT HAS NOTHING OF INTELLECTUAL VALUE!!!'
Go die now please.
3). People who's profile pictures consist of a mirror, a crazy angle, and a dirty bathroom wall.
You. Are. A. Loser.
Ok I get it girls, sometimes you just want to show off your new dress, or stick your cleavage in our faces. I'm ok with that. However, I see no other reason to take a toilet picture (that's my new name for them, clever). If you're a dude, and you're FLEXING WITH YOUR SHIRT OFF, the Wicked Witch of The Ripyourhomosexualtesticlesoff South is going to visit you in your self righteous dreams, and well, let's just say she earned that name for a reason. Get some friends, go to parties, have a designated cameraman. Hell, it'll give the DD something to do anyways. Get a picture somewhere besides your mom's bathroom for the love of all that is socially acceptable.
4) People who post their problems on Facebook, and when asked what's wrong, they say they don't want to talk about it. This is why they made diaries you retard. To keep things personal. Not the WORLD WIDE WORLD WIDE WOOOOORRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLDDDDDD WIIIIIDDDDDEEEEEEEE web. I hate you, you hypocritical piece of drama school failure.
5) This is the last one for the day, although I think I like the idea of these lists. Might have to make a separate blog for all my sarcastic spite. Anyways, back to the hatred.
People who poke. WTF is the point of a poke? To get my attention? I thought that's what my Wall was for. And what's this? You're mad that I didn't poke you back? How about I backhand you in 1020x768 pixels! Don't ever poke me if you want to stay friends with me. I don't like being poked. I get defensive. Leave me alone.
Facebook Retards:
Let me explain something. This is not directed at "mentally challenged" people. Why do I have mentally challenged in quotes? Because some of you out there make these people look like they were Einstein's prodigal sons and daughters. Most idiots, I can tolerate on a regular basis. But no, they had to make the Internet a public access system, where anyone with a metal spoon and copper wire can connect to the World Weetarded Web. Don't know if your friend (or evenworse, yourself) is a Facebook retard?
Here's some sure-fire ways to find out:
(Note: this list is NOT finished, I'll find others and hunt them down)
1). Gratuitous amounts of spelling errors. One or two I can deal with. You're on the go, and I make mistakes typing with my phone too (believe it or not, I make mistakes). It's when you're over-the-top blatantly retarded that I consider you over-the-top blatantly retarded.
2). People who put "like my status" in their status...
I...
HATE...
YOU...
Nothing says I'm a stupid megalomaniac waste of space quite like this. That's like giving a speech at a funeral, bringing a megaphone, and screaming into it, 'GIVE ME A STANDING OVATION AFTER THIS SPEECH THAT HAS NOTHING OF INTELLECTUAL VALUE!!!'
Go die now please.
3). People who's profile pictures consist of a mirror, a crazy angle, and a dirty bathroom wall.
You. Are. A. Loser.
Ok I get it girls, sometimes you just want to show off your new dress, or stick your cleavage in our faces. I'm ok with that. However, I see no other reason to take a toilet picture (that's my new name for them, clever). If you're a dude, and you're FLEXING WITH YOUR SHIRT OFF, the Wicked Witch of The Ripyourhomosexualtesticlesoff South is going to visit you in your self righteous dreams, and well, let's just say she earned that name for a reason. Get some friends, go to parties, have a designated cameraman. Hell, it'll give the DD something to do anyways. Get a picture somewhere besides your mom's bathroom for the love of all that is socially acceptable.
4) People who post their problems on Facebook, and when asked what's wrong, they say they don't want to talk about it. This is why they made diaries you retard. To keep things personal. Not the WORLD WIDE WORLD WIDE WOOOOORRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLDDDDDD WIIIIIDDDDDEEEEEEEE web. I hate you, you hypocritical piece of drama school failure.
5) This is the last one for the day, although I think I like the idea of these lists. Might have to make a separate blog for all my sarcastic spite. Anyways, back to the hatred.
People who poke. WTF is the point of a poke? To get my attention? I thought that's what my Wall was for. And what's this? You're mad that I didn't poke you back? How about I backhand you in 1020x768 pixels! Don't ever poke me if you want to stay friends with me. I don't like being poked. I get defensive. Leave me alone.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Above the World
Today is momentous for numerous reasons to me. "Why is it momentous to you Tyler?"
Oh, I'll tell you why. December 7th is a day not to be forgotten.
First and foremost, today we remember and honor the 70th anniversary of the tragedy known as the bombing of Pearl Harbor. My thanks and goodwill go out to the victims and families of the ones lost in this terrible happening, servicemember and civilian alike. The repercussions of your loss are still felt around this great nation, and may you never go forgotten.
Secondly, on a less melancholy note, my flight itinerary for leave has been finalized. It's Christmas time, and I now have the means to celebrate it properly. Starting next Friday, I will be taking to the roads on a long, yet amazing trip to Utah. It'll be a fantastic time, and I'm thoroughly excited. Unfortunately, this means I won't be able to see any of my friends in Missouri or New York until I'm a civilian again. Sorry boys and girls, but this is my last chance to travel someplace new for a long time, and I refuse to let it pass me by.
And finally, today we celebrate the birth of Frank, my drumset. Together Frank and I will shake the corridors of these barracks with a frightening thunder, regardless of noise pollution. For any of you that know me beyond face value, you know how significant this is to me. This has been far too overdue, and now it's finally time I find some inner peace. By beating the crap out of something. It's how I roll.
Minus the work-related stress that was piled on me this morning, today gets a rating of three thumbs up. How is that possible? I'll answer that next time, when I finally peel myself away from Frank.
Rock on friends!
Oh, I'll tell you why. December 7th is a day not to be forgotten.
First and foremost, today we remember and honor the 70th anniversary of the tragedy known as the bombing of Pearl Harbor. My thanks and goodwill go out to the victims and families of the ones lost in this terrible happening, servicemember and civilian alike. The repercussions of your loss are still felt around this great nation, and may you never go forgotten.
Secondly, on a less melancholy note, my flight itinerary for leave has been finalized. It's Christmas time, and I now have the means to celebrate it properly. Starting next Friday, I will be taking to the roads on a long, yet amazing trip to Utah. It'll be a fantastic time, and I'm thoroughly excited. Unfortunately, this means I won't be able to see any of my friends in Missouri or New York until I'm a civilian again. Sorry boys and girls, but this is my last chance to travel someplace new for a long time, and I refuse to let it pass me by.
And finally, today we celebrate the birth of Frank, my drumset. Together Frank and I will shake the corridors of these barracks with a frightening thunder, regardless of noise pollution. For any of you that know me beyond face value, you know how significant this is to me. This has been far too overdue, and now it's finally time I find some inner peace. By beating the crap out of something. It's how I roll.
Minus the work-related stress that was piled on me this morning, today gets a rating of three thumbs up. How is that possible? I'll answer that next time, when I finally peel myself away from Frank.
Rock on friends!
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Undisclosed Desires
This is my overdue rant. Now, before this carnival of fury begins, I'll lay down some ground rules so everyone understands what's going on, and there's no confusion.
1) Feelings will get hurt, and I hope they do. I want these words to carry some power, and maybe it'll help some people get their lives a little more organized and prioritized.
2) Yes, this is mainly a complaint about people complaining. Hypothetical? Maybe. But this is MY blog. You are MY guest. You will play according to MY rules. My is capitalized to show ownership, me being the owner. While you're on this page, you belong to me. If you don't like it, go kick rocks.
3) If you question MY (there it is again, must be important) opinion, I will verbally destroy you in front of your loved ones and friends. I have that power.
So, without further hesitation, let the s*** show begin.
Starting with:
FAT PEOPLE-
Ok, let me explain. I don't have a problem with normal fat people. Definition of normal fat person? Jolly bigger person, reminiscent of old Saint Nick. If you can accept your weight and yourself for who you are, good on you. Kudos, and here's my respect.
HOWEVER!
If you complain about your weight, and act jealous of all the slender girls/fit guys, who you insist on labelling as "anorexic" or "on steroids," we're going to have problems. How dare you insult them for their superior physique when you clearly can't take care of yours. They work hard to maintain their athleticism. Instead of being jealous, why don't you just try running? It'll make you feel good, I promise.
EMO KIDS-
I embrace some aspects of this lifestyle and psyche. SOME. I respect the new musical genre it's birthed, and I'm glad that more teenagers these days are expressing their feelings.
HOWEVER!
For starters, you're expressing the wrong feelings. Who celebrates sadness and depression? No one respectable! You're crazy. Why don't you celebrate fun and laughter, by having more fun and laughing more frequently? That's a pretty nice lifestyle right there!
And why are you sad in the first place? Is your girlfriend/boyfriend breaking up with you enough to make you wear all black and start cutting your wrists? Because if that's all it takes, you better have a really good knife, because you're going to be cutting for a LONG time. Life sucks sometimes. Get over it whiner. Two weeks into deployment, I found out one of my best friends just got blown up by an IED. They wouldn't let me go for a week to see him, even though we weren't doing anything useful yet. Oh well, there's nothing I can do. I have to keep moving. Grow up children, and see the world for its ample beauty, and not its few shortfalls.
BAD SPELLERS AND GRAMMAR OFFENDERS!!!
I want you all to die. Seriously. There is no redeeming quality here. Some of you may know that one of my Facebook activities is to very rudely point out bad typing. Whether it's poor spelling, horrible grammar, or both, I will make sure you look like an idiot. Because you are. And when you get mad, I get even happier, trust me. I am what they call a troll/flamer. I get a rise out of people getting angry at me. Especially when you try to argue with me, that's the best. The Internet is my specialty. I will embarass you severely all over your Facebook wall. DO NOT mess with me on the Internet. If I correct you on something, trust me when I say I'm right. I'm kind of smart. Don't get offended, you just learned something for free. If you do get offended, shut up and move on. If you decide to have the audacity to call me out, you better come packing some heat, because I will make your head spin.
Alright, this is getting pretty long. I'll split it up for now, and carry it over to another session. If you're angry already, just stop coming here, it's only going to get worse. As for the rest of my intelligent and thought producing readers, I hope you were entertained. You, the thinking few, deserve some food and joy for thought. I hope I can continue to provide.
1) Feelings will get hurt, and I hope they do. I want these words to carry some power, and maybe it'll help some people get their lives a little more organized and prioritized.
2) Yes, this is mainly a complaint about people complaining. Hypothetical? Maybe. But this is MY blog. You are MY guest. You will play according to MY rules. My is capitalized to show ownership, me being the owner. While you're on this page, you belong to me. If you don't like it, go kick rocks.
3) If you question MY (there it is again, must be important) opinion, I will verbally destroy you in front of your loved ones and friends. I have that power.
So, without further hesitation, let the s*** show begin.
Starting with:
FAT PEOPLE-
Ok, let me explain. I don't have a problem with normal fat people. Definition of normal fat person? Jolly bigger person, reminiscent of old Saint Nick. If you can accept your weight and yourself for who you are, good on you. Kudos, and here's my respect.
HOWEVER!
If you complain about your weight, and act jealous of all the slender girls/fit guys, who you insist on labelling as "anorexic" or "on steroids," we're going to have problems. How dare you insult them for their superior physique when you clearly can't take care of yours. They work hard to maintain their athleticism. Instead of being jealous, why don't you just try running? It'll make you feel good, I promise.
EMO KIDS-
I embrace some aspects of this lifestyle and psyche. SOME. I respect the new musical genre it's birthed, and I'm glad that more teenagers these days are expressing their feelings.
HOWEVER!
For starters, you're expressing the wrong feelings. Who celebrates sadness and depression? No one respectable! You're crazy. Why don't you celebrate fun and laughter, by having more fun and laughing more frequently? That's a pretty nice lifestyle right there!
And why are you sad in the first place? Is your girlfriend/boyfriend breaking up with you enough to make you wear all black and start cutting your wrists? Because if that's all it takes, you better have a really good knife, because you're going to be cutting for a LONG time. Life sucks sometimes. Get over it whiner. Two weeks into deployment, I found out one of my best friends just got blown up by an IED. They wouldn't let me go for a week to see him, even though we weren't doing anything useful yet. Oh well, there's nothing I can do. I have to keep moving. Grow up children, and see the world for its ample beauty, and not its few shortfalls.
BAD SPELLERS AND GRAMMAR OFFENDERS!!!
I want you all to die. Seriously. There is no redeeming quality here. Some of you may know that one of my Facebook activities is to very rudely point out bad typing. Whether it's poor spelling, horrible grammar, or both, I will make sure you look like an idiot. Because you are. And when you get mad, I get even happier, trust me. I am what they call a troll/flamer. I get a rise out of people getting angry at me. Especially when you try to argue with me, that's the best. The Internet is my specialty. I will embarass you severely all over your Facebook wall. DO NOT mess with me on the Internet. If I correct you on something, trust me when I say I'm right. I'm kind of smart. Don't get offended, you just learned something for free. If you do get offended, shut up and move on. If you decide to have the audacity to call me out, you better come packing some heat, because I will make your head spin.
Alright, this is getting pretty long. I'll split it up for now, and carry it over to another session. If you're angry already, just stop coming here, it's only going to get worse. As for the rest of my intelligent and thought producing readers, I hope you were entertained. You, the thinking few, deserve some food and joy for thought. I hope I can continue to provide.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
The Kansas City Shuffle
Well well well, it's been a little while, hasn't it? I hope you haven't forgotten me, because I definitely haven't forgotten about you, my fine feathered friends. I've just been...busy. Yes, busy is the appropriate word here, if not for the appropriate reasons shall we say.
So, here's an update on what's going on in my life, if you don't follow my megalomaniacal facebook profile.
1) I'm getting a drumset. Finally. FINALLY!!! It's only been overdue for about 22 years. My morale and happiness is about to go through the roof because of this.
2) I'm on light duty for another week. My x-rays are showing absolutely nothing. It looks like I haven't healed at all. I still feel fine though. Very unfortunately, that means I have to stay with my current company and unit, and they're complete garbage, so that's quite joyous.
3) I'm going to Utah/Vegas for Christmas. With the unstoppable Nay sisters. It's gonna be a righteous gig, and I'm very very stoked about it all. There will be dancing and snow and pictures galore!
4) I made ANOTHER best friend. Here's looking at you, Mrs. Ashley Stevens. Yeah, whatever, we've been friends for the last year and a half, but now we're just now starting to strengthen that bond, so boom! Bossman Mcgee does what he wants, he doesn't care!
Other than that, my life is pretty standard right now. A lot of XBox to fill the hours, and a lot of music. But as we pull into this next Christmas season, and I become more excited about this time of year than I ever have before, I'll still be thinking about all of you. Don't ever be afraid to talk to me. I am always here, always willing to listen, and laugh, with you.
Merry Pre-Christmas Friends!
Love,
The Captain
So, here's an update on what's going on in my life, if you don't follow my megalomaniacal facebook profile.
1) I'm getting a drumset. Finally. FINALLY!!! It's only been overdue for about 22 years. My morale and happiness is about to go through the roof because of this.
2) I'm on light duty for another week. My x-rays are showing absolutely nothing. It looks like I haven't healed at all. I still feel fine though. Very unfortunately, that means I have to stay with my current company and unit, and they're complete garbage, so that's quite joyous.
3) I'm going to Utah/Vegas for Christmas. With the unstoppable Nay sisters. It's gonna be a righteous gig, and I'm very very stoked about it all. There will be dancing and snow and pictures galore!
4) I made ANOTHER best friend. Here's looking at you, Mrs. Ashley Stevens. Yeah, whatever, we've been friends for the last year and a half, but now we're just now starting to strengthen that bond, so boom! Bossman Mcgee does what he wants, he doesn't care!
Other than that, my life is pretty standard right now. A lot of XBox to fill the hours, and a lot of music. But as we pull into this next Christmas season, and I become more excited about this time of year than I ever have before, I'll still be thinking about all of you. Don't ever be afraid to talk to me. I am always here, always willing to listen, and laugh, with you.
Merry Pre-Christmas Friends!
Love,
The Captain
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