Monday, March 30, 2009

Thank Darwin, It's Monday

Here we go; first blog in eons from myself, mostly due to my video-game addiction that consumes all my free time like a ravishing mold. It's not that I don't want to blog and read everyone else's fantastically coma-inducing entries, but I'm almost on the brink of anticipating an intervention by god-only-knows-whom to break my addiction and cart me off into rehab, so I can "reconnect with the real world", where I can no longer jump 8 feet into the air and shoot a laser out of my hand. Why must my dreams be crushed?

Anyhow, onto my angry antimonosyllabic disorganized rampaging redundant monologue concerning the stigma behind Monday, that day of the week that just makes you wake up and go "Fuck. It's Monday."

I can't stand getting up early in the morning, partially due to laziness, but also partially due to the fact that I can justify my laziness with an important philosophical argument, because animals sleep for a *majority* of the day, and spend the remainder of their time killing and pooping. That's nature's way, and our society is going against nature, and is constantly trying to annihilate nature with bulldozers that spew toxic radioactive waste, because they use medical waste as fuel rather than petroleum, because the harder a machine pollutes, the closer to an orgasm industrialists come. That shit just gets them all hot. Bitches.

There also happens to be an inviting lull in the monotony of school and work that you wish would last forever, but is jarred by an abrupt kick in the groin-area by what is known as "Sunday Evening", a time which was spent over a dinner table in the '50s, however, which is now characterized by drinking, television and occasional bouts of domestic abuse, which ironically, still counts as "family time". Monday then arrives, primarily just to piss ME off personally, and whoever is responsible for it is going to pay. THEY SHALL PAY.

Friday, March 20, 2009

If I Had a Lightsaber

If I had a lightsaber, I would be so filled with glee
Because then I could fight Vader,
and no one would ever fuck with me

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Cats Will Kill Us All

I consider myself a pretty fucking nice guy. I obey the law, act respectably towards most people (especially black female singers), and rarely ask for sex on the first date. But there is something about stupid animals that transmogrifies me from a polite little shit into a crazed chainsaw-wielding psychopath, (not literally. relax.) complete with hockey mask and gruff voice that hints that I may have a heavy smoking habit. Think Batman from "Dark Knight" or Lindsay Lohan or something.

I love cats though, because they are evil, scheming, vindictive, bitter, human-hating fuckers who absolutely refuse to give a shit about anything. Have you ever seen a cat staring at you? Well, it wants you dead. When you come home from a long day working the street corners, a dog will run up and start freaking out from excitement like an idiot. A cat won't do any of that shit. If I wanted that level of unbearable obnoxiousness upon my arrival home, I'd have kids. Then I would yell at them and ban them from eating. Rather, a cat would sit there, staring, as if to say "There you are. My food bowl is empty, asshat."

Guess what else? I was raised by cats. That's right, my maniacally bastardriffic parents decided to lose me at the mall. I don't care what my psychiatrist says, it's my fault they left me, because I would just not shut up about wanting cream puffs. So a family of alley cats took me in, and taught me many shiny valuable redeeming life lessons, like always remembering to bury my own poop, running around with crazy eyes for no reason at midnight, and running up to random people and yowling at them just to be a loathsome modern-day barbarian beserker pillaging the mental village of blue-collar caffeine-addicted yuppies with my perilous metaphysical battle-axe of FEAR.

Don't judge them; I haven't knocked over any 7-elevens, and that's saying something.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

I'm Back. Huzzah, right?

Fucking fuck.

I haven't published anything here for way too long. At first glance, this may appear to be a case of writer's block, but scoff at that notion. I SCOFF AT IT. I wrote approximately 8 posts that I didn't publish, including one about a movie that everyone's forgotten by now, mainly because it was just poorly-conceived pop culture fluff, complete with cliches and gimmicky advertising that would cause me to drink myself into oblivion if I were to attempt to stomach my way through a viewing of it's unapologetically retarded premise and intellectually-insulting overtones.

Bottom line is, wasn't that great of a flick. 'nuff said.

I really just feel an extreme lack of motivation at this time, and each hour pushes me further into the red as my deficit of inspiration spirals out of control like a mink attempting to pilot a jet-liner. Every day has the audacity to be exponentially more dull than the last, taunting me tirelessly with monotony, as life dangles fulfillment in front of my face like a delicious carrot, filled with vitamins and other shit that my body needs. My body asks for some weird shit. Like, it says "I need some Vitamin D." and I reply by saying "Boy, you don't need no Vitamin D."

Actually, what the hell is Vitamin D? I know it comes in pill-form, because even though it comes naturally in fruits and vegetables, everyone eats hamburgers, which makes me wonder why someone doesn't just put vitamins into the hamburger patties. It's a conspiracy. By the illuminati.

Well, that was way off-track, even though it was a somewhat mildly amusing (for me. It was probably torturously random for any reader.) diversion from my oh-so-important personal problems that I will be guilting various internet people into reading so they can say to me "Things will perk up for you." to which I will reply "Boy, you don't need no Vitamin D."

I guess I could use some perkiness about now.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Twitter is a wonderful website sent from Heaven.

I jest. Twitter, in actuality, is the latest installment in an epic series of secret government attempts to round all the stupid twits on the internet into one place. Who knows why. Whatever the case may be, Twitter is just another mass-appeal garbage site that self-important intarweb noobs flock to, as they are easily impressed by precocious but insistently banal novelties that stress the fact that they "connect you with your friends".

Predictably, tens millions of people will be using Twitter pretty soon, and I will be asked if I have one. I will simply take a deep breath, and politely reply to their stupidity by saying "Of course not, you fucking idiot."

Next, 9 out of 10 people I talk to will tell me they have Twitter accounts just for the irony of it all. If Irony was a commodity one could purchase, I would highly recommend taking all your capital out of your vagina, and putting it into the Irony Market, because there is a boom coming that not even Jim Kramer could predict, even though I'm surprised he can even function half the time without falling over and screaming "The demons from Jupiter are in my head and are having sex with my brain!!!"

The next phase will be Teenaged Girls getting Twitter accounts. Explicit amounts of shittery and cliche modes of behavior will fly like feces. Just feces. Tons and tons of feces, falling from the skies in an apocalyptic nightmare of proportions that will warrant the formation of multiple government agencies to deal with the crisis, only to be bogged down in bureaucracy that will cause the usual bickering and Senate floor shankings that have come to characterize the hostile atmosphere in Washington. Fuck, I took that metaphor wayyy too far. Oh well. You'll live. Anyhow, Teenaged Girls will post the usual "I love himmm x3" bullshit, as well as "I'm bored right now", "I'm confused about things", "I'm at the punk rock show", "Me and Kimberley are hanging out!", and of course, "I'm listening to Blue Cantrell songs. I'm so hardcore." Oh well. I'll live. I'm pretty sure it's medically impossible for these things to cause major enough brain damage to incapacitate me long enough to prevent me from escaping through an air duct. The next phase, obviously, is for Celebrities to get Twitter accounts. Because we all want to know what the fuck Cameron Diaz is doing this very instant. Finally, a barbaric horde of obtuse smart-asses will begin making accounts for the purpose of saying crazy things, such as "I am currently battling a spy with nunchucks, and we both just jumped out of a plane without parachutes and are fighting in mid-air as we hurdle towards the ground at untold speeds. This looks bad." and these will be funny for approximately 7 minutes, then will revert to being the most fucking stupid shit in the entire world, and I mean even stupider than The Hills, a paradox which could cause the universe to covert all of it's matter into orange juice, or some kaledoscopic blend of idiotic non-scientific assumptions that make absolutely no sense, but are awarded merit because the public's paranoia that Science Will Destroy Us All.

And it will. That's why we have Twitter.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Taking the Economy to the Vet to Get It Fixed.

I know everyone loves when I write about fluffly poppy topics like Sex, Celebrities, Relationship Advice and Intergalactic Fucking, but in these tough economic times, I have to conserve that shit. We just have to wait for President Obama to use his Obama-magic to spend more capital than what is allowed for in their entire budget in the space of 2 months, as this supposedly will create four trillion jobs.

I'm sick of hearing about "the economy", and how it is failing and horrible. People are freaking out about this like it just started raining axes. What frustrates me is that the solution is fucking obvious and I'm perplexed as to why no one has thought of this to alleviate the problem. You see, I have this theory that 9 out 10 economist are lemming-like dunces from Planet Stupid. So, all the government needs to do is appoint some old, Caucasian male in an Italian suit to be appointed to an imaginary position of financial power, then have him appear on all outlets of media, issuing a proclaimation that the Economy Was Fixed. "Don't worry." He'd say, "We took care of it this afternoon. The economy is now fixed." and would explain shitload of financial diagrams and charts illuminating the newly-fixed economy.

Once the economy is declared fixed, investors will go "Yipee", and blindly pour tons of money into the stock market, which will cause companies to profit immensely, and they will soak up all the unemployed workers like a giant metaphorical hypothetical mop soaking up a massive pile of vomit. Once again, it'll be the American Dream for all the middle-class white families, and magic rainbows of joy will penetrate the clouds like a hooker in a coma, and white bunnies will prance in the streets freely and gleefully once more until there is a nuclear war or something.

Then all our media outlets would spontaneously combust, because our star cruisers can't repel firepower of that magnitude.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


Alright, since I'm posting about sex in public, I'd better release a disclaimer to warn everyone that this post is unreadable for everyone from my youth group (oh, the nostalgia) who are probably still sheltering themselves from any topics related to human procreation. Which is evil.

WARNING: Porn ahead. Get your Grandma out of the basement right now. I don't care if she has pizza bagels for you. Get her out. Now. Also, if you are a parent, do not let your children read this, or else they will grow up to be drug-dealers. Not just pharmaceutical doctors, I mean illegal drug dealers, like that crazy guy with the dreadlocks, Pablo.

Like I just mentioned above, children must never know anything about sex at any time. I mean, I knew about sex as a kid, and look how I turned out. You don't want this. I don't want this. Let us avoid this. Furthermore, sex is incredibly complicated, and exposing children's simplistic minds to it would cause them to instantaneously perish, because they have the IQ of waffles.

The reason I decided to write about this particular topic is because... wait, I don't have to explain myself to you bitches. Let's just say that this blog is in the midst of it's infancy, so I guess it's a good to take on the taboo subjects early to get them the hell out of the way.

To be honest, I can't imagine why sex is a taboo subject to begin with. I'm almost certain it has to do with religion, what with their vows of celebacy and chastity belts, because supposedly, if one suppresses the human reproductive cycle, they think it makes them stronger spiritually. Actually, what happens is they get all high-and-mighty because they achieved something that is triumphantly accomplished year after year by the Mathletes. With ease.

It's also said that sex sells, so I tried to sell some, and then I was informed that what I was doing was illegal. But in all seriousness, dirt sells. Manure sells. Tofu sells. Twilight sells. But if you say that to anyone who says "Sex sells", they'll get all defensive for no reason, especially if you write them over the internet, but then again, internet people get defensive over everything (maybe because they're not receiving sex?).

When it comes to sex, there are basically two schools of thought:

1. No one should ever have sex, except as a last resort to keep the human race from terminating itself.

2. Everyone should have sex with everything.

Most of the time, these two factions are at each other's throats with knives, and it's becoming increasingly irritating, especially when mindless, propaganda-soaked shills for some political ideology rattle off a chain of mostly-contrived "facts" and childish insults (i.e., "You're wrong and need to shut up, like now", "That's the kind of intelligence I'd expect from someone with the screen name 'ilovespaghetti'", and of course, "I don't know why I bother conversing with someone with an intellect as lowly as yours." because obviously, speaking to someone with a differing viewpoint on an arbitrary subject means you're definitely wayyy too smart to be holding your conversation, and you feel the need to inform all the people who you mistakenly believe to be following your intarweb escapades of justice that you're far too good for the conversation, effectively declaring yourself the winner by default, which is sure to win over so many converts to your oh-so-precious school of thought and GOOD GOD THIS SECTION IN PARENTHESEES IS GETTING RIDICULOUSLY LONG, WHAT THE HELL.) at each other everytime I turn around. Oh sure, I could "just leave", because the path of avoidance is the American Way, and I usually do, except right now I'm "expressing my feelings", so shut up because I don't care about your fucking opinion about sex.

Well, I could drag this post out longer, but instead, I'm gonna go have sex. Bye.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Mecha: A Giant Robot Is Destroying Tokyo

hihi! ^_^

My name is Yuko! ^^

I from Tokyo! ^^

Smiles are happy! ^_^

I like Hello Kitty, Rice and American Movie! ^^

Run! Godzilla! ^____________________^

I no like yelled at. -____-"

bye bye! ^_^

Now, some of you inevitably will be thrown into a frenzy of confusion upon reading this post and wonder what the hell is going on. Maybe you didn't read the title of my blog properly. It doesn't say "The Most Coherent Blog Ever Written". And you think I'm on drugs!? YOU'RE ON DRUGS!

And you were adopted.

Page Views