Well, it was a close battle, but the actual count (by my calculations) ended in a Sugue/Easterly tie. Caitlin made a valiant effort, and I expect her to be a fierce competitor should the Sugue ever regain his title. However, because of the close nature of the game, I decided to give Derek the choice of colors this week. He made two posts to the story, twice as many as everyone else, and I think it's better this way. He's a relatively neutral party outside of the top-three-feud and it'll be interesting to see what he does. I'll put up some interim colors until he posts what he wants (just google for hexadecimal colors or designate someone else as your choice; don't forget to find comment box colors too). For all you noble souls who tried so very hard to reign in the title, I hope you'll keep it up and take it back next week!
On another note, the riddle should be up sometime tomorrow, I've just been relatively busy today. Farewell until next time.
Sunday, December 21
A Trial by Fire....But with Ice
I haven't made a general entry in some time, so I figured I'd give you a doozy today. Much of it should be real, but I'll probably hyperbolate some parts,which you should be able to pick out, and I may add some crazy ninja grannies on uranium powered scooters for good measure. Most of it is trivial, meaningless drivel that you're sure to be uninterested in, and none of it really bothered me all that much anyway, but I thought I'd plop it up here just to make up for lost time. I'm warning you, read at your own peril. This is long, often tedious, and possibly contagious. Proceed at your own risk.
Sometimes there are just days when you wonder why you even bothered getting up. I know this, you know this, that creepy monkey in the mirror behind me knows this. But I got up anyway. I suppose it all started three days ago (cue Wayne's World-esque flashback sequence with sparkly lights and flying goafers)....it was finals time and as usual I decided that all my hard work throughout the semster would pay of by me annihilating my relatively high A's in Accounting and Chemistry by not studying for the finals. The English final was a tad tricky, and my essay veered around like a drunk man trying to swat that annoying pink elephant who won't stop telling him to "Eat At Joe's." The Accounting final rivaled the Band final in easyness and repeating, making it a rather boring experience. And, of course, I enjoyed the Pre-Cal final. I may not be the best at Math, but I do enjoy a good Math test. But the things I do not enjoy are Chemistry finals. You'd think I would have learned from last year, but NNOOOO. I assumed I knew things I didn't (kinda like the Bush admini...er.. nevermind). So once again the blasted test is going to be hanging over me all break. Not literally, because I'd rip it off it's disembodied peg, tear it into pieces, toss it in the fire, take the fire outside, throw it in the trash, take the burning trash can to the Post Office, attach a note to it that reads "Throw this at someone you dislike slightly", mail it to Ralph Nader, yada yada. Needless to say, it wasn't an auspicious start. Well, I guess I said it even if it was needless. Hhmmm. Aaannnyyway...
So I start looking forward to that night where the Combined class was planning on meeting up for food, movies, and lots and lots of surly-teenager action (because there's nothing like a bunch of relatively intelligent people planning on watching a movie based on a highly acclaimed literary work to strike fear into the hearts of the innocent everywhere). So I get to the Olive Garden with a helpful assist from Rachel (I get lost too easily to bother attempting to go anywhere without a local familiar with the terrain as my guide, which, believe you me, is not so easy to find in the middle of Greenland on goat-back, but that's another story). Then we start waiting. And oh how we waited. What was supposed to be a few minutes quickly became twenty. Soon everyone became suspicious of everyone else. We checked to see if our handy can openers were stashed within our pockets, in case things got ugly, and glared at each other. We tried to break the tension by singing Kookabura (which is a wonderful round that should be sung much more often than it is now), but to no avail. The hunger pangs were obvious. Soon, we began to eye the small children and sick elderly people around us as possible prey. Rachel and Sarah attempted to try intimidation on some of the people who had decided to pitch a tent and stay the night, but apparently you aren't allowed to randomly wave a machine gun around and yell "Alright youse punks, get out before I gives ya an incentive!" They're Italian, I thought they'd understand. But no. So we're finally seated, albeit a bit behind schedule. The kind people at Olive Garden decided to try to compensate our wasted time with a free appetizer. I thought it was rather redundant, what with the free bread sticks and salad, but it was free after all... Anyway, I ordered my normal child's pizza which made me a tad embarassed, but is it so wrong to know your limits?...Oh...It is? WHY WON'T YOU PEOPLE TELL ME THESE THINGS?!?! Anyway, we finally leave and make it over to Sara's for some Catch-22. Now, Catch-22 may be the best book I've ever read, so I have high standards. But a blind monkey would be able to understand that it butchered the entire thing. Ironically, it did make me appreciate the novel all the more, but still; what was the point? Ah well, who knows what the point of anything is anymore? So after the movie, I headed home where my father subsequently got mad at me for not calling him even though I said I'd be home at 11. Eh, whatever takes attention away from the blood stains and the burnt, pig-like odor in the trunk.
So that was the first two days. Then yesterday came. It started off innocently enough. I was ripped from my oh so peaceful slumber by the knowledge that I had to go to the dermatologists. It wasn't something nifty like a foot that inverted upon itself, thus letting you walk sideways, or a thumb having a huge mole or something that talked to you and told you to kill everyone. Half of my body hadn't even changed aquarmarine or neon or orange or anything. I was just there for whatever skin blotches the big Artist o' Life decided to toss upon my face. So I get some pills or something and return home where I anxiously await the Divine Pleasure of driving my sister wherever her tiny, shriveled, cold heart desires. So after hours of tense waiting, I drop her off at Martha's, get something to eat, and start to head home. But Lo, what on yonder gas-meter breaks? It is the Empty, and Pilot is the Sun! In other words, I almost risked running out of gas, but cautious devil that I am, I stopped at a nearby pilot and got some in the pouring snow. I was obviously disoriented, what with the cold and the strange gas aparatus (3 types of gas from pump, what?!?), thus as I drove onto the bustling interstate my fuel-cap did not join me. I'd assume it's somewhere along Northshore now where it will begin a magical Christmas adventure that will end with it bursting into flames somewhere in Colorado during the 2078 Olympics. Don't ask.
But this all led up to Martha's big shin-dig of a box social. Now, for all my gloomy, boring ways, I actually don't mind going places and doing things. It's pointlessness that annoys me. So while I don't like Christmas nor do I like large, loud crowds (unless I'm in control of their every whim), it wasn't that bad. Of course it sort of divided into cliches, which I don't really like, but it was expected. I'm normally a drifter when that happens, but last night (due to my contacts which I'll get to in a bit) I just sat in a corner and played games. Once again I prompted us to sing Kookabura, and it worked with some success. It also encouraged me to make some sort of board/spades club of some sort at school that would meet on a regular basis. Then I realized I'm an unmotivated bum who never does anything he doesn't feel obligated for some reason to do, so I largely dropped the idea.
ANYWAY, (stupid Dylan, always getting sidetracked, he does this a lot, like this one time that he was talking and he kep...there I go again). AHEM. As I was saying, ANYWAY when I left was when the real fun began. I walked onto the driveway of Martha's and thought "Wow, this is kind of slick, maybe the roads will be this way too. Nah, you'll be fine; remember snow days? Ice and Snow are your friends!" So I sallied forth into the dark unknown. Oh how my once long-time companion and ally turned traitor! We (meaning Kelly and I, since I was doing my good deed for the day of transporting someone I wasn't family-like obligated to chauffeur) got to Kingston Pike and tackled the driving test of my life! Apparently, ice is rather slippery and cars can lose this thing called "traction." In retrospect, all of my hardships could have been avoided if I'd remember to chant my prayer "Friction Don't Fail Me Now!!", but alas I did not. So I went up the hill and got stopped. Or rather, the car in front of me stopped and I was forced to as well. After some random cursing and quick use of the rocket launcher I keep in my glove department, I was able to advance past that obstacle. Going down the hill, I swerved out of control, hit a passer-by, got arrested, and was executed the next day for not wearing a seat-belt. Ok, so I made it down the hill with only a bit of swerving, but it gets better! I arrive in West Hills with Kelly as my guide (see, I really do need a guide to tell me where to go in the town I've lived in for all 17 of my oh so long years) and we ever so slowly advance through the neighborhood. Now, on the way to the Olive Garden, I made an unfortunate comment about stop signs not applying to Rachel's superb driving skills. Well, I broke more laws last night than I care to think about, and needless to say, acted as if the Red Beacons of my Sure Demise were not there. So I get through West Hills, and Middlebrook is within my sight. Oh Joy! I am almost to safety! What's this?!! Why is that car stopped on this incline?!?! Why isn't it moving?!!?!?!?! Oh.....No.... So I too become trapped on a slight incline. My manual car soon becomes a bane to me once again. The other car moves onto middlebrook while I desperately fight the urge to kill the next pink fairy that tells me driving is a fun experience that everyone should enjoy. So after killing the car, sliding backwards a few times, and taking out my handy-dandy rocket launcher should the need arise, I get onto Middlebrook. Hooray! I'm on Middl-BAM! I hit the curb. But we're ok! I straighten up, aim for Bearden Middl-BAM! Another Curb. Well, this is fun. Middlebrook becomes blocked with cars, a wreck or something, so we pull into the BMS parking lot (strangely my first time there) and I wisely park. My grandfather lives not 15minutes away, so I'm fine. However, Kelly is another story (yes, I didn't kill her. The voices advised it, to get rid of witnesses, but I was still mad at them for suggesting I wear my contacts, so I didn't). So she calls her mother who heads over to pick us up. We gradually grow impatient and form ranks to march to the gas station and demand they treat us like the surly teenagers we clearly are (I mean really, how is a thin, pasty faced white kid who looks rather dazed and confused NOT the scariest thing you've ever seen?). We get to one gas station. Then two. By this time, the body count on my hands has just grown too high. I mean, even I have a random homicidal limit (we'd been brutally slaying every passer by we saw with frozen fish I just happened to have over from my underwater treasure hunt, but that's another story). So anyway, I decide to give up, so we head to my grandfather's home. On the way there we witnessed a peculiar sight. An SUV was stuck in the ditch on the side of the road at a 45 degree angle(at least). There appeared to be minimal damage, but you just don't see that sort of thing every day. Nevertheless, we ignore the bodies strewn throughout the countryside and all thier pleas for help or at least an end to their misery and arrive at my grandfathers. Somewhere on this crazy ride, Kelly's mother does not end up going home, so Kelly stays at my grandfathers as well. I sleep on the couch, which was surprisingly comfortable, despite the man who kept hovering outside my window with a green gleam in his eyes and a silent but deadly icepick clutched in his bitter, cybertronic fingers.
The next morning I awake to an angry mob who demands my head. I don't know where they keep finding my address. So I do the whole "Oh no, please forgive me" routine as I send the signal for the Rapid Wombats to be airdropped on top of them. And I had to help some men working on the airducts with a powercord. I then prepared to put in my contacts (which I thought I'd placed in a ziploc baggy overnight) when I realized I had, once again, lost my right, expensive, stigmatismastic contact. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, it was gone. So after a failed attempt or forty and me almost losing the other as well, I give up and go without them. Thus, I have no corrective eyewear, but what do I care, I've got nothing to lose (Only high insurance payments to gain!). Somehow, I get Kelly home (despite the ice, snow, polar bears with lazer vision, and Eskimos with personal vendettas (Don't EVER ask if it's "Cold in here, or is it just your HEART!?")). I wait for the rest of the blasted stuff to thaw and then gratefully head home. That's when the crazy ninja grannies on uranium powered scooters arrived. I raced down middlebrook, but they were too crafty. They were gaining, I had little time, then it hit me. Shoneys. So I drive past the Shoney's on Western Avenue and they flock to it like flies to...um...dead stuff. Then I decide to go for lunch. What did I get? It had to be a Frosty.
And that's basically where I am now. I've spent an hour and 15minutes already writing this, even though it's really covered nothing of that much interest. Less is written about wars, violence, congress, carebears, why Huggies is the right diaper for you, etc. I didn't even write my rant about how contacts make me get anxious, annoyed, confused, dazed, and crazy. That'll have to come some other time. But for now, I leave you with this "Book" of my past few days. Some of you may have thought it couldn't be done. But I wrote the longest ramble this site has seen and may ever see again! So with that, I bid you Farewell. If you read through the whole thing then you must really have had some time on your hands. I'm so....proud. Until next time.
Sometimes there are just days when you wonder why you even bothered getting up. I know this, you know this, that creepy monkey in the mirror behind me knows this. But I got up anyway. I suppose it all started three days ago (cue Wayne's World-esque flashback sequence with sparkly lights and flying goafers)....it was finals time and as usual I decided that all my hard work throughout the semster would pay of by me annihilating my relatively high A's in Accounting and Chemistry by not studying for the finals. The English final was a tad tricky, and my essay veered around like a drunk man trying to swat that annoying pink elephant who won't stop telling him to "Eat At Joe's." The Accounting final rivaled the Band final in easyness and repeating, making it a rather boring experience. And, of course, I enjoyed the Pre-Cal final. I may not be the best at Math, but I do enjoy a good Math test. But the things I do not enjoy are Chemistry finals. You'd think I would have learned from last year, but NNOOOO. I assumed I knew things I didn't (kinda like the Bush admini...er.. nevermind). So once again the blasted test is going to be hanging over me all break. Not literally, because I'd rip it off it's disembodied peg, tear it into pieces, toss it in the fire, take the fire outside, throw it in the trash, take the burning trash can to the Post Office, attach a note to it that reads "Throw this at someone you dislike slightly", mail it to Ralph Nader, yada yada. Needless to say, it wasn't an auspicious start. Well, I guess I said it even if it was needless. Hhmmm. Aaannnyyway...
So I start looking forward to that night where the Combined class was planning on meeting up for food, movies, and lots and lots of surly-teenager action (because there's nothing like a bunch of relatively intelligent people planning on watching a movie based on a highly acclaimed literary work to strike fear into the hearts of the innocent everywhere). So I get to the Olive Garden with a helpful assist from Rachel (I get lost too easily to bother attempting to go anywhere without a local familiar with the terrain as my guide, which, believe you me, is not so easy to find in the middle of Greenland on goat-back, but that's another story). Then we start waiting. And oh how we waited. What was supposed to be a few minutes quickly became twenty. Soon everyone became suspicious of everyone else. We checked to see if our handy can openers were stashed within our pockets, in case things got ugly, and glared at each other. We tried to break the tension by singing Kookabura (which is a wonderful round that should be sung much more often than it is now), but to no avail. The hunger pangs were obvious. Soon, we began to eye the small children and sick elderly people around us as possible prey. Rachel and Sarah attempted to try intimidation on some of the people who had decided to pitch a tent and stay the night, but apparently you aren't allowed to randomly wave a machine gun around and yell "Alright youse punks, get out before I gives ya an incentive!" They're Italian, I thought they'd understand. But no. So we're finally seated, albeit a bit behind schedule. The kind people at Olive Garden decided to try to compensate our wasted time with a free appetizer. I thought it was rather redundant, what with the free bread sticks and salad, but it was free after all... Anyway, I ordered my normal child's pizza which made me a tad embarassed, but is it so wrong to know your limits?...Oh...It is? WHY WON'T YOU PEOPLE TELL ME THESE THINGS?!?! Anyway, we finally leave and make it over to Sara's for some Catch-22. Now, Catch-22 may be the best book I've ever read, so I have high standards. But a blind monkey would be able to understand that it butchered the entire thing. Ironically, it did make me appreciate the novel all the more, but still; what was the point? Ah well, who knows what the point of anything is anymore? So after the movie, I headed home where my father subsequently got mad at me for not calling him even though I said I'd be home at 11. Eh, whatever takes attention away from the blood stains and the burnt, pig-like odor in the trunk.
So that was the first two days. Then yesterday came. It started off innocently enough. I was ripped from my oh so peaceful slumber by the knowledge that I had to go to the dermatologists. It wasn't something nifty like a foot that inverted upon itself, thus letting you walk sideways, or a thumb having a huge mole or something that talked to you and told you to kill everyone. Half of my body hadn't even changed aquarmarine or neon or orange or anything. I was just there for whatever skin blotches the big Artist o' Life decided to toss upon my face. So I get some pills or something and return home where I anxiously await the Divine Pleasure of driving my sister wherever her tiny, shriveled, cold heart desires. So after hours of tense waiting, I drop her off at Martha's, get something to eat, and start to head home. But Lo, what on yonder gas-meter breaks? It is the Empty, and Pilot is the Sun! In other words, I almost risked running out of gas, but cautious devil that I am, I stopped at a nearby pilot and got some in the pouring snow. I was obviously disoriented, what with the cold and the strange gas aparatus (3 types of gas from pump, what?!?), thus as I drove onto the bustling interstate my fuel-cap did not join me. I'd assume it's somewhere along Northshore now where it will begin a magical Christmas adventure that will end with it bursting into flames somewhere in Colorado during the 2078 Olympics. Don't ask.
But this all led up to Martha's big shin-dig of a box social. Now, for all my gloomy, boring ways, I actually don't mind going places and doing things. It's pointlessness that annoys me. So while I don't like Christmas nor do I like large, loud crowds (unless I'm in control of their every whim), it wasn't that bad. Of course it sort of divided into cliches, which I don't really like, but it was expected. I'm normally a drifter when that happens, but last night (due to my contacts which I'll get to in a bit) I just sat in a corner and played games. Once again I prompted us to sing Kookabura, and it worked with some success. It also encouraged me to make some sort of board/spades club of some sort at school that would meet on a regular basis. Then I realized I'm an unmotivated bum who never does anything he doesn't feel obligated for some reason to do, so I largely dropped the idea.
ANYWAY, (stupid Dylan, always getting sidetracked, he does this a lot, like this one time that he was talking and he kep...there I go again). AHEM. As I was saying, ANYWAY when I left was when the real fun began. I walked onto the driveway of Martha's and thought "Wow, this is kind of slick, maybe the roads will be this way too. Nah, you'll be fine; remember snow days? Ice and Snow are your friends!" So I sallied forth into the dark unknown. Oh how my once long-time companion and ally turned traitor! We (meaning Kelly and I, since I was doing my good deed for the day of transporting someone I wasn't family-like obligated to chauffeur) got to Kingston Pike and tackled the driving test of my life! Apparently, ice is rather slippery and cars can lose this thing called "traction." In retrospect, all of my hardships could have been avoided if I'd remember to chant my prayer "Friction Don't Fail Me Now!!", but alas I did not. So I went up the hill and got stopped. Or rather, the car in front of me stopped and I was forced to as well. After some random cursing and quick use of the rocket launcher I keep in my glove department, I was able to advance past that obstacle. Going down the hill, I swerved out of control, hit a passer-by, got arrested, and was executed the next day for not wearing a seat-belt. Ok, so I made it down the hill with only a bit of swerving, but it gets better! I arrive in West Hills with Kelly as my guide (see, I really do need a guide to tell me where to go in the town I've lived in for all 17 of my oh so long years) and we ever so slowly advance through the neighborhood. Now, on the way to the Olive Garden, I made an unfortunate comment about stop signs not applying to Rachel's superb driving skills. Well, I broke more laws last night than I care to think about, and needless to say, acted as if the Red Beacons of my Sure Demise were not there. So I get through West Hills, and Middlebrook is within my sight. Oh Joy! I am almost to safety! What's this?!! Why is that car stopped on this incline?!?! Why isn't it moving?!!?!?!?! Oh.....No.... So I too become trapped on a slight incline. My manual car soon becomes a bane to me once again. The other car moves onto middlebrook while I desperately fight the urge to kill the next pink fairy that tells me driving is a fun experience that everyone should enjoy. So after killing the car, sliding backwards a few times, and taking out my handy-dandy rocket launcher should the need arise, I get onto Middlebrook. Hooray! I'm on Middl-BAM! I hit the curb. But we're ok! I straighten up, aim for Bearden Middl-BAM! Another Curb. Well, this is fun. Middlebrook becomes blocked with cars, a wreck or something, so we pull into the BMS parking lot (strangely my first time there) and I wisely park. My grandfather lives not 15minutes away, so I'm fine. However, Kelly is another story (yes, I didn't kill her. The voices advised it, to get rid of witnesses, but I was still mad at them for suggesting I wear my contacts, so I didn't). So she calls her mother who heads over to pick us up. We gradually grow impatient and form ranks to march to the gas station and demand they treat us like the surly teenagers we clearly are (I mean really, how is a thin, pasty faced white kid who looks rather dazed and confused NOT the scariest thing you've ever seen?). We get to one gas station. Then two. By this time, the body count on my hands has just grown too high. I mean, even I have a random homicidal limit (we'd been brutally slaying every passer by we saw with frozen fish I just happened to have over from my underwater treasure hunt, but that's another story). So anyway, I decide to give up, so we head to my grandfather's home. On the way there we witnessed a peculiar sight. An SUV was stuck in the ditch on the side of the road at a 45 degree angle(at least). There appeared to be minimal damage, but you just don't see that sort of thing every day. Nevertheless, we ignore the bodies strewn throughout the countryside and all thier pleas for help or at least an end to their misery and arrive at my grandfathers. Somewhere on this crazy ride, Kelly's mother does not end up going home, so Kelly stays at my grandfathers as well. I sleep on the couch, which was surprisingly comfortable, despite the man who kept hovering outside my window with a green gleam in his eyes and a silent but deadly icepick clutched in his bitter, cybertronic fingers.
The next morning I awake to an angry mob who demands my head. I don't know where they keep finding my address. So I do the whole "Oh no, please forgive me" routine as I send the signal for the Rapid Wombats to be airdropped on top of them. And I had to help some men working on the airducts with a powercord. I then prepared to put in my contacts (which I thought I'd placed in a ziploc baggy overnight) when I realized I had, once again, lost my right, expensive, stigmatismastic contact. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, it was gone. So after a failed attempt or forty and me almost losing the other as well, I give up and go without them. Thus, I have no corrective eyewear, but what do I care, I've got nothing to lose (Only high insurance payments to gain!). Somehow, I get Kelly home (despite the ice, snow, polar bears with lazer vision, and Eskimos with personal vendettas (Don't EVER ask if it's "Cold in here, or is it just your HEART!?")). I wait for the rest of the blasted stuff to thaw and then gratefully head home. That's when the crazy ninja grannies on uranium powered scooters arrived. I raced down middlebrook, but they were too crafty. They were gaining, I had little time, then it hit me. Shoneys. So I drive past the Shoney's on Western Avenue and they flock to it like flies to...um...dead stuff. Then I decide to go for lunch. What did I get? It had to be a Frosty.
And that's basically where I am now. I've spent an hour and 15minutes already writing this, even though it's really covered nothing of that much interest. Less is written about wars, violence, congress, carebears, why Huggies is the right diaper for you, etc. I didn't even write my rant about how contacts make me get anxious, annoyed, confused, dazed, and crazy. That'll have to come some other time. But for now, I leave you with this "Book" of my past few days. Some of you may have thought it couldn't be done. But I wrote the longest ramble this site has seen and may ever see again! So with that, I bid you Farewell. If you read through the whole thing then you must really have had some time on your hands. I'm so....proud. Until next time.
Wednesday, December 17
A Continuance of the Beginning
Inco Erent surveyed the carnage after the FBI had left. Dishes strewn everywhere, furniture broken, pictures slightly asunder, fishbowls rippling a bit. It was utter devastation. He only had himself to blame, though. He had known that his next door neighbor Cheryl's Lawn Gnome was special, he just hadn't realized how very special it was! The past 48hours were a blur, but he distinctly remembered a pair of piercing eyes staring at him through a dark fog of grey smoke. That was all he could recall of the past two days, but he knew something important must have happened.
How could such an innocent prank have gone so horribly wrong?!? He had to find what out had happened to him. Being an unemployed "Waste Disposal Management Expert", he had plenty of time, so he called his pet squirrel, Noy, grabbed his only money, $5.62, hopped in his Chevy, and set off to the first place he could think of to start his search: Barry's Blastinatin Bar.
((Well, there's your first prompt. Plenty of places you can go with it, and I don't care what direction you take. Read the next entry in its long, blathering entirety for an explanation of the rules before posting a response. Just try to stay somewhat within the confines of the intro, but be creative and have fun!))
How could such an innocent prank have gone so horribly wrong?!? He had to find what out had happened to him. Being an unemployed "Waste Disposal Management Expert", he had plenty of time, so he called his pet squirrel, Noy, grabbed his only money, $5.62, hopped in his Chevy, and set off to the first place he could think of to start his search: Barry's Blastinatin Bar.
((Well, there's your first prompt. Plenty of places you can go with it, and I don't care what direction you take. Read the next entry in its long, blathering entirety for an explanation of the rules before posting a response. Just try to stay somewhat within the confines of the intro, but be creative and have fun!))
The Slaying of The Sugue
Well, as it may be obvious to many of you (who can read through David's reign of Ter-olor(you do the math)), a post contest has begun the likes of which my blog has never seen! Brave new factions vie for the chance to change the colors into something prettifully magniferrific instead of The Grammar Kings Blending Blog Blotches of Blehdom! So I present to you, brave challengers, an arena to test your creative capacity and a chance for yet another dictatorial force to surface, one of grandeur, benevolence, magnificence, rhyming, and undead radioactive mongeese of DOOM. In other words, ME!!! So here's the plan. In Band, I started circulating a story that people would add one line to as it went along, for amusement purposes only. Well, I shall continue that tradition today!
Yes, you heard/read/telepathized right, I'm going to give you an introductory sequence and all your jobs are to continue it (I'll add in some extra tidbits along the way too, assuming any of you take it up). The rules are as follows:
1. Every post to the story must be 3-10 sentences with least 3words sentence (for example, no "Oh. No." 's).
2. You'll receive one point per post (as you would for any comment anywhere else)
3. When I see an entry I like, I'll give you extra points for it (And it'll be whichever comment(s) I want to choose, kind of in an evil dictator way).
4. All comments about previous entries or other people's entries not in context of the story need to have double parenthese's around them ((Like this)). These will count toward your final comments total of the week and you can make them at any point in the story.
5. You can only make one entry at a time (someone else has to add an entry before you can add another). You can make an entry after a ((comment)) if you wish. The "no three posts in a row period" rule still applies here as it does everywhere else.
6. If two people post an addition at the same time (for instance, if they're writing it at the same time and post it at the same time through some coincidence of time and space that Fate loves to torment me with), the next person should choose which one they're going to follow ((note)) it, and continue. The unchosen entry will still get credit for the post, but it won't be added on to.
7. You are allowed to add at most 2 individual characters to the story per post, 3 total.
8. Use your best judgement when adding on to the story. You can have dramatic twists or kill main characters or whatever, but do it tactfully. Add some randomness, but keep it cohesive. Add in distant events as a foreshadowing sequence of things to come. Create epic struggles between good and evil. But don't just summon an asteroid, kill off everything, and then say "Meanwhile, on pretty, fluffy, happy, evil world." Go with what other people write, don't arbitrarily wrest control of the story every single time you post. Add on the story, don't divide it into fragments. (Although you do have my full permission to abuse someone else’s character out of spite or revenge, just keep it tactful. Kapish?)
9. Anything else I say goes (I may add or subtract from the rules, I can do whatever I want, and I don't have to follow a thing!).
Depending on whether I'm feeling generous, I may let the previous week's winner choose which story additions get more points, if they will forfeit their right to add on to the story and not win the next week (These continued stories will be a weekly or so thing, if interest is there). I know this is a lot of rules and what not, but you're all smart people I have faith you'll figure it out. Except for David, but he's been stabbed with sporks one too many times. So have at it (For simplicity the story will be on a separate post, please post additions to that. Leave comments on what you think of the idea in general and any suggestions on this section.)
*pantpantpant* That's about all, for now. Let me know what you think.
Yes, you heard/read/telepathized right, I'm going to give you an introductory sequence and all your jobs are to continue it (I'll add in some extra tidbits along the way too, assuming any of you take it up). The rules are as follows:
1. Every post to the story must be 3-10 sentences with least 3words sentence (for example, no "Oh. No." 's).
2. You'll receive one point per post (as you would for any comment anywhere else)
3. When I see an entry I like, I'll give you extra points for it (And it'll be whichever comment(s) I want to choose, kind of in an evil dictator way).
4. All comments about previous entries or other people's entries not in context of the story need to have double parenthese's around them ((Like this)). These will count toward your final comments total of the week and you can make them at any point in the story.
5. You can only make one entry at a time (someone else has to add an entry before you can add another). You can make an entry after a ((comment)) if you wish. The "no three posts in a row period" rule still applies here as it does everywhere else.
6. If two people post an addition at the same time (for instance, if they're writing it at the same time and post it at the same time through some coincidence of time and space that Fate loves to torment me with), the next person should choose which one they're going to follow ((note)) it, and continue. The unchosen entry will still get credit for the post, but it won't be added on to.
7. You are allowed to add at most 2 individual characters to the story per post, 3 total.
8. Use your best judgement when adding on to the story. You can have dramatic twists or kill main characters or whatever, but do it tactfully. Add some randomness, but keep it cohesive. Add in distant events as a foreshadowing sequence of things to come. Create epic struggles between good and evil. But don't just summon an asteroid, kill off everything, and then say "Meanwhile, on pretty, fluffy, happy, evil world." Go with what other people write, don't arbitrarily wrest control of the story every single time you post. Add on the story, don't divide it into fragments. (Although you do have my full permission to abuse someone else’s character out of spite or revenge, just keep it tactful. Kapish?)
9. Anything else I say goes (I may add or subtract from the rules, I can do whatever I want, and I don't have to follow a thing!).
Depending on whether I'm feeling generous, I may let the previous week's winner choose which story additions get more points, if they will forfeit their right to add on to the story and not win the next week (These continued stories will be a weekly or so thing, if interest is there). I know this is a lot of rules and what not, but you're all smart people I have faith you'll figure it out. Except for David, but he's been stabbed with sporks one too many times. So have at it (For simplicity the story will be on a separate post, please post additions to that. Leave comments on what you think of the idea in general and any suggestions on this section.)
*pantpantpant* That's about all, for now. Let me know what you think.
Tuesday, December 16
An Overwhelming Onslaught of Absolutely Nothing
Well, finals are finally here. I suppose I should be studying this very moment, but if I don't make decent grades so I can brutally abuse them this time of year, why make them in the first place? (Ok, so that doesn't make a lot of sense. Neither does warm ice cream. You figure it out.) I may actually put a bit of effort into a few of them, just to make it interesting, but I want the test taking experience to be at least a bit exciting (I'm talking to you Accounting Final).
However, a more pressing concern arises as I sit here in my usual spot with nothing better than to blather on and on and on about how I'm blathering on and on and on about how I'm...well... you know the rest. I still need something to do that doesn't involve me and an actively sedentary lifestyle. So if anyone wants to go found a cult, plan an insurrection, go on a harrowing journey of life, death, and the American Cheese, or ,of course, kick a puppy, let me know. I'll be glad to consider it, and at the very least you'll get a sincere good luck followed by a sarcastic comment or two.
One thing I would really like to avoid is the giving and receiving of gifts. It's just so...aggravating. Not the aggravating of a drip-drip-dripping sink while you lie completely flat on a long, cold table as a pair of slightly mad orangutan prepare to remove your eyelids and short term memory in an admirable, but futile attempt to salvage any trace of sanity you may have after going through hours and hours of horrible, brain-squashing boredom at the hands of a vacation you ambivalently want and despise at the same time. (Try to say that three times fast in one breath...) Anyway, gift-giving and receiving is a custom I'm not all that fond of. Perhaps if someone specifically requested something that it was within my oh so limited power to easily aquire, I might go through the effort. Otherwise, the uncertainty and relatively good chance at failure deter me from trying. Ah well, it could be worse.
As you may have noticed, none of this is really all that entertaining and/or mindblowing. You see, as long as I can justify remaining online, I can put off trying to cram every single random fact of a subject I will not ever use again into my already fragmented and limited mind. But I'll spare you anymore of this, for I am a kind and benevolent rambler who knows when it is good to consider thinking about attempting to try to start stopping. I'm not evil, just...well...ok, so I am kind of evil. But evil in a good, fuzzy, bristly, "AH AH GET IT OFF, IT BURNS LIKE THE COLDEST ICE OF AN ACTIVE VOLCANO IN THE MIDDLE OF ANTARCTICA" kind of way. So until next time, Pleasant Dreams and Merry Studying.
However, a more pressing concern arises as I sit here in my usual spot with nothing better than to blather on and on and on about how I'm blathering on and on and on about how I'm...well... you know the rest. I still need something to do that doesn't involve me and an actively sedentary lifestyle. So if anyone wants to go found a cult, plan an insurrection, go on a harrowing journey of life, death, and the American Cheese, or ,of course, kick a puppy, let me know. I'll be glad to consider it, and at the very least you'll get a sincere good luck followed by a sarcastic comment or two.
One thing I would really like to avoid is the giving and receiving of gifts. It's just so...aggravating. Not the aggravating of a drip-drip-dripping sink while you lie completely flat on a long, cold table as a pair of slightly mad orangutan prepare to remove your eyelids and short term memory in an admirable, but futile attempt to salvage any trace of sanity you may have after going through hours and hours of horrible, brain-squashing boredom at the hands of a vacation you ambivalently want and despise at the same time. (Try to say that three times fast in one breath...) Anyway, gift-giving and receiving is a custom I'm not all that fond of. Perhaps if someone specifically requested something that it was within my oh so limited power to easily aquire, I might go through the effort. Otherwise, the uncertainty and relatively good chance at failure deter me from trying. Ah well, it could be worse.
As you may have noticed, none of this is really all that entertaining and/or mindblowing. You see, as long as I can justify remaining online, I can put off trying to cram every single random fact of a subject I will not ever use again into my already fragmented and limited mind. But I'll spare you anymore of this, for I am a kind and benevolent rambler who knows when it is good to consider thinking about attempting to try to start stopping. I'm not evil, just...well...ok, so I am kind of evil. But evil in a good, fuzzy, bristly, "AH AH GET IT OFF, IT BURNS LIKE THE COLDEST ICE OF AN ACTIVE VOLCANO IN THE MIDDLE OF ANTARCTICA" kind of way. So until next time, Pleasant Dreams and Merry Studying.
Monday, December 15
Riddle #8
Enemy to faith and reason,
Bane to students of any season,
This is something we oft do fear,
Yet throughout our lives it's always near.
Without this We can’t progress,
But it still causes much distress;
If it’s too strong you won’t proceed
But for a great mind, it’s what you’ll need.
It irritates authority to no end,
To swift action it is no friend.
With your answer, this may be in tow;
You could be sure, but you just don’t know!
Well, there you have it. I'm not concerned whether it's too easy or not, you'll like getting it right regardless. Sorry for the delay, I was busy all yesterday and it's against my bum-like code to work ahead. Complaints can be directed to me through IM where I will forward them to "Loseyapointsnow", our Customer Service Representative.
As for updated scores, here they are Derek 12, The Sugue 10, Elizabeth G. 8, Kelly 8, Caitlin 8, Ellen 8, Elizabeth E. 6, Martha 6, Melissa 4, Amy 3, Rachel 3. (I've been having trouble keeping up with all the points you people toss at my face, so if you feel there's a discrepancy let me know).
Not much else to say at the moment, so I'll leave you with a much belated "Quote of the Week"
Derek: conspiracies: life's most flavorful seasoning
(Once again, The Plague of Color, or, as I refer to him, "The Sugue", has squeaked out enough incorrectly spelled responses to earn the right to color the blog again (if he chooses to change it). If you don't like the colors, post more! If you like the colors, good for you! Maybe they'll bring some pastel colored joy into your normally brownish grey life. Until next time).
Bane to students of any season,
This is something we oft do fear,
Yet throughout our lives it's always near.
Without this We can’t progress,
But it still causes much distress;
If it’s too strong you won’t proceed
But for a great mind, it’s what you’ll need.
It irritates authority to no end,
To swift action it is no friend.
With your answer, this may be in tow;
You could be sure, but you just don’t know!
Well, there you have it. I'm not concerned whether it's too easy or not, you'll like getting it right regardless. Sorry for the delay, I was busy all yesterday and it's against my bum-like code to work ahead. Complaints can be directed to me through IM where I will forward them to "Loseyapointsnow", our Customer Service Representative.
As for updated scores, here they are Derek 12, The Sugue 10, Elizabeth G. 8, Kelly 8, Caitlin 8, Ellen 8, Elizabeth E. 6, Martha 6, Melissa 4, Amy 3, Rachel 3. (I've been having trouble keeping up with all the points you people toss at my face, so if you feel there's a discrepancy let me know).
Not much else to say at the moment, so I'll leave you with a much belated "Quote of the Week"
Derek: conspiracies: life's most flavorful seasoning
(Once again, The Plague of Color, or, as I refer to him, "The Sugue", has squeaked out enough incorrectly spelled responses to earn the right to color the blog again (if he chooses to change it). If you don't like the colors, post more! If you like the colors, good for you! Maybe they'll bring some pastel colored joy into your normally brownish grey life. Until next time).
Thursday, December 11
That's Not Rain, It's Fluffy Snow!
Well, such is a typical "winter" in the K-town hood. Which, strangely, is fortunate for me. You see, now that I'm an old fuddy-duddy, I don't want out of school. Do Adjust Your Set, this is not a Test. That's right, other than Chemistry at the end of the day and usually History, I don't want to be out of school. I feel like such a traitor to the student mentality. You see, for the past few years (since Christmas of seventh grade), I've been addicted to online computer games. However, in August I decided I'd quit. Cold turkey, if you will. Well, now it seems as if I have nothing to do. With all my time not being devoted to the game, I still find myself online hoping someone will deem me worthy enough to talk to.
It's rather strange, because not wanting to be out of school really speeds it along. So, I've developed some ideas for getting me to actually do something. I'll probably bump some quote off my profile and include a topic to ask me about, no matter how strange, and see what happens (something like "What do you think about the Spanish Civil War? or "Are poisonous frogs really that good a side dish for a wedding dinner?). Perhaps someone will IM me, I'll say "hooah" and that'll be it. Perhaps we'll delve deep into the human pysche and discover the secret to pudding. Or we may just come up with some great plans for world domination. Either way, it'll be better than nothing! I think...
Not only that, but come next summer I'm going to start a routine. It'll probably involve me going to walk somewhere, walking around awhile, stopping to play a game of some sort somewhere (inside, outside, something), me reading a book, me trying to do something else of some interest, and me going to sleep. Now, the key for this to work is for others to know. You see, I'd start each day with a set plan. Other people would know where to find me, every day, and if they felt like it they could come along for the ride. It'd be like a mini-adventure every day, while everything was entirely routine. Ain't irony great? It'd be a walk in the park too! Literally!
Well, that's about all for today. The Daily Show, often the highlight of my night, is about to commence so I must bid you all Farewell. Until next time....
It's rather strange, because not wanting to be out of school really speeds it along. So, I've developed some ideas for getting me to actually do something. I'll probably bump some quote off my profile and include a topic to ask me about, no matter how strange, and see what happens (something like "What do you think about the Spanish Civil War? or "Are poisonous frogs really that good a side dish for a wedding dinner?). Perhaps someone will IM me, I'll say "hooah" and that'll be it. Perhaps we'll delve deep into the human pysche and discover the secret to pudding. Or we may just come up with some great plans for world domination. Either way, it'll be better than nothing! I think...
Not only that, but come next summer I'm going to start a routine. It'll probably involve me going to walk somewhere, walking around awhile, stopping to play a game of some sort somewhere (inside, outside, something), me reading a book, me trying to do something else of some interest, and me going to sleep. Now, the key for this to work is for others to know. You see, I'd start each day with a set plan. Other people would know where to find me, every day, and if they felt like it they could come along for the ride. It'd be like a mini-adventure every day, while everything was entirely routine. Ain't irony great? It'd be a walk in the park too! Literally!
Well, that's about all for today. The Daily Show, often the highlight of my night, is about to commence so I must bid you all Farewell. Until next time....