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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in thepotatoweekly's LiveJournal:

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Saturday, October 9th, 2004
1:01 pm
Garage Sales: Refuge For The World's Imbeciles
Never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever have a garage sale. Ever! If you do not heed this advice, you will encounter some of the most repulsive, downright idiotic people on the face of the Earth. I'm not exaggerating either. Evolution seriously took a step back with these specimens for human incompetence. I'm sure I met some future Darwin Award winners today actually.

If you venture your way into a garage sale, there are three types of people you may encounter: the Non-English Speaking Immigrant, complete morons, and old people. I unfortunately met all of them today, and strangely enough... a combination of all three. I really actually have no problem with these people, that is, unless I'm forced to interact with them which sadly always seems to happen to me. Then the shit really hits the fan, because I'm a cynical, impatient bastard who hates dealing with people, peoples' questions, or their annoying menial problems.

Today I had to deal with a family of at least 15 Mexicans, err.. Cubans, or maybe they were Puerto Ricans. They were Latin, I know that, but I actually have no idea what nationality they were, they honestly all look the same to me. Not a single one of them could speak English, and each one of them had about a billion questions to ask me... IN SPANISH! I know they could tell I had no idea what they were saying, so to break they language barrier they spoke louder and slower. I don't understand how they could think that would help, but it obviously made sense to them. I tried to help them, and they were getting angry that I couldn't speak Spanish, IN AMERICA! Dumbasses. I quickly got tired of that, so I just walked away and ignored them until they got frustrated, piled all 15 of them into their little clown car and left.

You would think that I would have enough of that, and just leave since my father could easily handle the whole garage sale alone, but alas I stayed. I'm just a glutton for punishment I suppose, because shortly after I met Elian's family, (Whatever happened to Elian Gonzales? Was he sent back to Cuba? Meh, I really could care less anyway.) I met someone who I can only assume was a lifetime member of the NRA, and an avid viewer of NASCAR. He walked in wearing a wife-beater covered in what appeared to be food from his last lunch, or of lunches before that. I can't understand that. You don't even have to be coordinated to eat! You just need eyesight. Brooke could do a better job of shoveling food into her mouth than this future Nobel Prize winner.

Jim Bob, as I so lovingly call him came into my backyard in search of a cooler, which I assume would be used to cool off his "brewskies" or preserve that raccoon he found on the side of the road for dinner. I don't understand why he would come in looking for a cooler, when on our signs for the garage sale displayed everything we were selling, coolers not being one of them. Actually I do understand why he would do something like that, the guy was as dumb as a bag of bricks. After he had confirmed there was indeed no cooler for sale, he commented on the book I had been reading to pass the time, (which happened to be The Lord of The Rings trilogy compiled into one book. It's really quite convenient) asking, "Hey, is that based off the movie?”. My jaw literally dropped, and I muttered idiot under my breath, right before I dropkicked him all the way to the trailer park.

I really didn't have too much trouble with old people today though. They only big thing was that like every one of them smelled like moth balls or Bengay, but it's nothing to get infuriated over. They also walk really slowly, which is annoying but bearable. This is my only warning to all of you. Beware of garage sales!
Thursday, October 7th, 2004
8:03 pm
Everyone put your hands together for... Tacos!
My mom makes the best tacos, just thought everyone should know.

Anyway, on to the real point of this entry. I got a new cell phone, so I no longer have anyone's phone numbers. So it would be nice if everyone who reads this posts their phone numbers, because I really dont feel like having to ask everyone for it. That's all.
Monday, October 4th, 2004
10:21 pm
This upcoming election has sparked nothing but controversy. Democrats throughout the United States want nothing more than to get what they see as a bumbling man with an IQ similar to that of a jar of mayonnaise out of office. Republicans would stop at nothing for four more years, and keeping the alleged flip-flopping, botox injecting, horse teethed Kerry out of office. Either way, this upcoming November Democrats and Republicans alike will be sprinting to the polls hoping to make their one vote count, because if it hasn’t been cemented into everyone’s brain already: “every vote counts”.

The truth is every vote doesn’t count, and in fact some votes shouldn’t be counted in the first place. In all honesty some ballots should be thrown away the moment they are cast. I’m not being a bigot or a racist, well that is unless stupidity is a race. I for one am just sick of people voting without spending a minute of their precious meaningless lives just to do a little research on the candidates. If I can do it, anyone can. In fact I expect everyone to do it.

Unfortunately not everyone does it, and some people vote with little more knowledge than who is running. Instead of voting solely on the issues, they vote on menial things like what they wear, how they look, or for superior speaker of the two. Other weak-minded individuals are easily persuaded to vote for party their family does, never bothering to consider their own morals, ethics, or opinions. The fact that morons like these would be able to vote, and possibly even negate my vote with their idiotic attempt at democracy sickens me. I could never bring myself to vote knowing that these peoples votes are weighed exactly the same as mine. Luckily I have devised a system to deal with the Neanderthals who unfortunately inhabit the United States.

Anyone that registers to vote will be required to take a test that will indicate just how much they know about the candidates running for President. If they do not pass with a B or higher they will not be allowed to vote, and imprisoned. Well, maybe not imprisoned, although that would be a nice way to keep the imbeciles from wasting time on a test they could never in their wildest dreams hope to pass. Those who pass will be able to vote, and the proceedings for the election will continue as normal.

Until a poll test or a similar system is issued, I cannot vote. Not because I’m lazy, but because I would become physically sick and could never actually bring myself to vote. Regardless of the issues, whether they are scientific, religious, environmental, educational, or anything of the sorts, I will not be voting this election, or any upcoming election for that matter. I cannot say if I would vote for Kerry or Bush this election, because it would just be a blatant lie, and being an honest man I couldn’t bring myself to lie to myself or anyone else for that matter. I just wish everyone the best at the polls, because I’ll certainly be having a blast sitting at home.
Monday, August 30th, 2004
4:27 pm
Mrs. Renaldi Eats Babies
So today in Aquatics (for those of you who are unaware, Aquatics is SCUBA diving class) Mr. Simms was trying to teach us all how to swim. Instead of just teaching us the correct way, defying all logic, he assumed drawing pictures of people swimming would be a more efficient way of teaching. Then, to top it off, we had to make totem poles of things that represented us as swimmers. I chose a lifesaver, swim trunks, a fishing pole, and a Diglet, but that is beside the point. So after this he has us all line up at the edge of the pool and preceded to push us all in the deep end one by one. Needless to say, half the class learned nothing from his little project, and quickly joined Mr. Davy Jones in his locker. They will all be missed... well except for that one smelly kid. I believe in his case it was for the best.

Now I know at this point you're probably thinking, "Wow, I want you so bad Potato. Just come over here and take me right now. I want it rough! Give it to MEEEEEEE!!!!!". Okay, well I'm sure at least half of you are thinking that. Well at least a few are. I'm sure of it. Don't be ashamed. Everyone thinks about me in that way eventually. If you haven’t already thought of me like that, just wait. One day you'll just be sitting around playing with yourself, or what ever it is you do when you don't think anyone is watching, and it will hit you like I would hit my retarded cat if I had one, that of course being very hard and maliciously. Oh, and about what you do when you think no one is watching, well I have news for you! Someone is watching. That someone is God. Yeah, I bet you feel dirty, and you very well should. In fact go take a shower, or a bath... or a golden shower if you’re in to that kind of freaky deaky stuff.

Hmmm.... where was I? I know I had a point I was leading up to; I just can't seem to remember. I'm sure I'll remember eventually. Oh yeah, I know! I'm sure you all could tell that I was lying about aforementioned Aquatics incident, but I was merely stretching the truth. Mrs. Renaldi Devourer of Babies is teaching us exactly the way I described. In English for the past week, we have been drawing pictures and making totem polls. That's right! WE'RE DRAWING PICTURES AND MAKING TOTEM POLLS FOR ENGLISH! The only thing I've learned is that everyone in the class are shitty drawers, and that Diglet was in the Native American hieroglyphics. Mrs. Renaldi should be wiped from the planet. In fact, anyone in the same family as her should be. If not, I fear the world will be over run by baby eating, no good hippie lovers. Viva La Me!
Sunday, August 8th, 2004
6:27 pm
Six Flags
My parents just informed me that we are going to Six Flags tomorrow, Monday, August 8th. They are also renting two hotel rooms near Six Flags so that we can buy twickets for like $15, and go back the next day. I can bring one person in my van, or if someone would like to drive up there, I can bring roughly 3 friends. If you want to go, just call my house or cell or comment on this anytime between now and like.... 4a.m. That's usually when I go to sleep. I know this really short notice, so I doubt I will be able to find anyone to go, but if you want to go don't hesitate to ask. You will of course have to pay for you tickets and what not, but the hotel is free of charge. That's all I can think of for now. Later days.
Thursday, July 29th, 2004
5:43 am
Fatty Fatty Two By Four Can't Fit Through The Bathroom Door
I found this while surfing online. I found it funny, so I decided to post it. If you want to know the site, just ask.

Late one summer night, while most of America slept atop their blankets to avoid being any warmer then they already were, I stumbled upon something staggering. On a new moon, with the glow of my monitor being the only source of light in my entire house I was suddenly enveloped by a website who’s importance grew with every passing line of text I read. This “online journal” of sorts was completely enthralling to me because the last entry was dated June 5, 1968, a year in which most of us had never even heard of the internet let alone knew how to run a diary for the whole world to see. Its funny reading internet sites that predate DSL, there’s such an unadulterated innocence about it all that makes you yearn for the days of 2400 baud connections. The entries were cryptic but I soon pieced together enough clues to realize the importance of what I was perusing. I had stumbled onto Michael Moore’s blog when he was just 14 years old! I would just link you guys to the site right now and let you have at it, but I’m a dick like that. Instead, here are some choice passages that make you really think “Wow, I can’t believe this is the same Kool-Aid talking bowl of punch look alike that single handedly Bowled for Columbine and did that other movie about that president guy who golfs.”

January 7, 1967: Mom made pie today! Two Kinds! I ate them both without chewing once! Dad said if I don’t watch out I’ll break 300 pounds by spring. I told him “yeah, break 300 pounds of YOU! OVER MY FUCKING KNEE!” Okay I didn’t really say that, I just thought of it now, but oh boy! That would have been sweet! Sweeter than two pies. Hmm, time for me to go to sleep, I’m super tired. Oh, I also might wanna make a documentary about the state of Gun-happiness in America when I grow older. But who knows right!?

Ps – dad said he’ll get me that toy tractor soon.

May 4, 1967: Dad was right, I weigh well over 300 pounds. But I’m almost 14 years old! I can’t help it if I eat bacon in between meals to cleanse my pallet! Billy bet me three marbles I couldn’t eat a jug of butter before his mom got home. So I did. Then to show off, I ate the marbles. Seriously though, if people think that the government isn’t systematically using the media to propogate a culture of fear in America just to quell any intellectual uprising, then we’re more ignorant than those lousy French think. The butter made me gassy. I think I need a pop tart before beddy bye bye. See ya soon online journal!

September 19, 1967: My heart hasn’t beat in 14 hours, I’m getting scared.

September 20, 1967: Okay there it goes again. Ha ha ha, I so shoulda died right now, you have NO idea!

December 19, 1967: Roger and Me went to the mall today. I bought an atlas and four ears of corn. Roger tried stabbing me in the face and neck with his swiss army knife but he couldn’t get through to anything meaty. Dad said the fat around my head is dangerous, but so far its only saved my life. Fahrenheit 9/11 is gonna shatter box office records I just feel it. Leonardo DiCaprio said its one of the most important movies he’s ever seen. I have no respect for time or date. I think I finally pooped those marbles. Its super cold outside. Mary held my hand during art class today and it felt nice. I can’t wait for X-mas. See ya soon online journal!

June 5, 1968: Minnie forwarded me this questionnaire dealy, so I’m gonna post the answers here. Some are kinda funny.

Favorite Food: Gravy

If you were on a desert island and…: Gravy

Favorite Movie: Krippendorfs Tribe

Who was the last person that called you: Phones haven’t been invented yet.

Who was the last person you called: My mom.

In five years I will be: A doo doo head! (Hey I didn’t write that!)

Okay, this will probably be my last entry because I fear the Nazi’s have taken over my entire city. Mother says we mustn’t move much for fear of them finding us. Franz said I looked hungry and he gave me a morsel of his daily ration of bread. Family has never meant so much to me as it does now. I love you diary, and I hope I can write in you soon.

Goodbye.
Monday, July 26th, 2004
2:57 am
Every Single One Of You Are Lame
Well, the past two days have been non-stop fun. Both of the Throwdown shows were amazing. Dr. Ring Ding is great, and Streetlight Manifesto put on an outstanding show. These two shows put Warped Tour to shame. Seriously, if these shows and Warped Tour got into a fight, Throwdown would beat Warped Tour like a red headed step child. I saw nine, that's right, count em, NINE bands for half the price of warped. Suck on that bitches. If you didn't go to both shows you should kill yourself, because there really is no point of living your pathetic little life anymore. And seeing as how only Seany and I attended both shows, I'll try to attend everyone's funerals. That's all I've got. Later Days.
Tuesday, July 13th, 2004
6:07 am
Bleh, it's too early.
Recently I have gotten into the habit of staying up rather late, err I guess it's early. Lately, 6a.m. has been the average bed time for myself. My parents, to say the least, would not be fond of this fact. Actually if they knew I was doing this, the would quite literally kill me. Yesterday, my mother was awoken from her slumber around 5a.m. by sweet little Brooke. Apparently Brooke had soiled herself, and was in need of a changing. My mother did what needed to be done, and cleaned up the baby and headed downstairs to dispose of the dirty diaper. It was at this time I felt the need to get something to drink. Unfortunately I was not aware of the goings on upstairs, and walked right into the kitchen where my mom was about to throw away the diaper. Mom, being very surprised to see anyone up at that hour, jumped back at the first glimpse of me. She proceeded to interrogate me. Asking why I was up so late, and what I was doing in the kitchen. Being quick on my feet like I always am, I was quick to come up with a suitable lie. I simply said that I woke up, and was in need of something to drink because of a dry throat. It was a simple lie, and she seemed to believe it.

I must have bad karma or horrible luck, because sure enough the same thing happened again today, but in a slightly different situation. I was in the laundry room searching for a movie around 6, when in walks my mom looking for a change of clothes for the newborn. Yet again, she is startled to see me, and quickly proceeds to interrogate me. As I stated before I'm quick to come up with lies, but sometimes these lies get me into trouble. I quickly blurted out the first thing that came into my head. Unfortunately, it was not the most thought out lie I've ever used. You see, I said that I was up for my morning jog, and I've been jogging in the morning for about a month. I was about to go to bed, but now because of this I had to go out and jog around the neighborhood. You would think it would end there, but nooooo, because I'm an idiot and said that I had been jogging in the morning for about a month, I will be going out for morning jogs every day from now on. Sure I could say that I was lying, but I'm stubborn, and hate getting in trouble so I'm just going bend over and take it up the tailpipe because from now on every morning is going to require exercise.
Wednesday, June 30th, 2004
4:28 pm
I'm Sorry Everyone, I Shouldn't Have Lied
I have to confess a secret. I've been lying to you all for nine months now, and I have to get it off my chest because this lie has been tearing away at me for a long time now. I can take it no longer. My mom assured me it would be easier than it has been. She said I could take the pain and anguish this lie would cause me, and everyone else, but I just can't. You see, the truth is, my mom isn't pregnant... in fact she never was. She has just been gaining weight, and was too embarrased to tell anyone that she was just getting fat. So, in order to keep her feelings from being hurt I have told everyone that she is pregnant, when in reality she is just eating and gaining excessive weight. Wow, does that feel good to get off my chest. I hope you all can understand, and maybe in due time you all will find it in your hearts to forgive me for lying to you all. I truly am sorry. Later Days.
























Ha ha ha. I really hope no one believed that, or else you are really gullible. Actually my mom had the baby at 10:30 a.m. today. It is a baby girl named Brooke, and she was 7 pounds 9 ounces. She is a cutie, although I havn't actually seen her awake. Brooke, and my mom should be home by friday. Feel free to stop by if you want to see the new addition to the family. Later days.
Sunday, June 27th, 2004
6:08 am
Vacations For Fat People
I have been fat for the better part of a decade now. It all started around 1996 when my waistline began to expand and my breasts swiftly outgrew my vertical vision, obscuring my feet forever. It is not an easy life, but it is the one I have to live.

Given that this is the internet and given that, if the Simpson’s have taught me anything, fat people like computers, I would be willing to bet that there are a lot of fat people reading this right now. Who knows, maybe you’re one of them? Take a look down your body, can you see the floor?...No?...then this is the article for you.

Of all the seasons in the year, summer is the worst for fat people. We can no longer hide our supple frames under layers of cotton and denim. No, we are forced to lay our hoodies and sweat pants to rest and confront the fact that we are now wider than we are tall. However, there are some tricks I have picked up in my 8 years since the great expansion and, like the mafia, I am here to help out my friends. Here are the summer tips for fat people.

1. Avoid the beach. Take a look in the mirror. What do you see? I bet you see a large, shapeless, pale body with spotty hair and, most likely, a stretch mark here and there. Do you really want to show that off? No, no you don’t. Yes, you may like sand and salt water, but nobody wants to see your fat ass splashing around the waves and nobody wants to pull that harpoon out of you after the whalers nail you by accident. Let the beautiful ones have the beach…they let you have the library. Instead of going to the beach, try having a BBQ instead; you’ll feel more comfortable around roasting meat than you will trying to hide those pesky he-tits.

2. Tan yourself. I know it may be difficult to work on your tan if you can’t go to the beach, but there are plenty of other places to tan that flabby hide. For instance, you could try to convince all your stoner friends to let you borrow their grow lights for an hour or two each week. That way, you can achieve a solid base coat in the comfort of your own home. Or, try this; cover yourself in baby oil and stand in front of the microwave for a few hours. Sure, the cancer will hurt, but at least you’ll look a little slimmer for all the ladies you won’t be getting.

3. Avoid bars and clubs. Only fat people know the real reason we hate summer; the sweat. It pours off your head and down your chest; over your tee-shirt and down the crack of your ass. And where do you sweat more than in a crowded bar or club. Good luck hitting on girls when you look like you just went down the slip-n-slide. Try heading to a beach bar or an outdoor party; this way no one will see the sweat due to the lack of light and you’ll be less likely to soak someone with sweat by bumping into them. Also, never dance…it is not meant for you. (Note: it is OK to attend the beach after dark, but, like a vampire, make sure you leave before the sun crests the horizon)

4. Do not swat at mosquitoes. You may be bitten. You may contract West Nile. But at least you won’t look the fool by swatting the air for ten minutes. One of the great comic loves of this country is to watch fat people do physically challenging things: rollerblading, climbing things, tying shoes, and, yes, swatting mosquitoes. You may be large, but don’t be the jester for your friends. You’ll never hear the end of when, “Jay was trying to swat that mosquito and he was all like, falling down and shit and his shirt, like, came up and shit…that was fucking hilarious.” Don’t feed the stereotype.

5. Do not wear a Speedo. If you choose to ignore my warnings about the beach and go anyway, at least wear something befitting a person of your stature. No one looks good in a Speedo, especially you. Your fat gut will droop over the front of the Speedo making it appear as though you are wearing nothing at all. However, those behind you will be treated to the sight of your hairy ass crack just poking through the top. Please, for the love of the children, do not don this European nightmare. If you must go to the beach, wear a moomoo, garbage bag, or raincoat and save everyone the doom of staring at your bared flesh.

Now, I don’t want you to be ashamed of your body. On the contrary, be proud of what you have accomplished. That gut, that flab shows years of accomplished eating and drinking feats and you should cherish it. You may envy the guys with the rock hard abs and no boobs, but what do you think will happen when the ice age comes? Huh? Yeah, they’re all going to freeze to death when we, you guessed it, will still be sweating. To my fellow fatties, I’ll see you in the living room watching TV and not, and I mean it, not on the beach this summer.

For the record, I never get up at 6:10 in the morning, I just havn't gone to sleep yet.
Wednesday, June 23rd, 2004
11:09 pm
The Truth Behind Sesame Street
Hello Boys and Girls... You might not remember us, as our show has drifted off the airwaves, but both me, and my life partner Bert used to be on Sesame Street. Part of our jobs everyday was educating you. We taught you how to share cookies with Cookie Monster, and how to count with... the Count. We showed you that bathing was fun (As long as you had your rubber ducky) and that diversity was a good thing.

But Bert and I always had another agenda, our own agenda that even our producers didn't really know about. You see, back when Sesame Street was on, homosexuality was very very stigmatized, that means people thought you were bad, JUST because of who you LOVED. But Bert and I didn't care. We knew we were meant to be together. We both loved long walks down the street, Vivaldi, and hot steaming felt-rubbing Muppet sex.

And with our mutual love of education, the next step seemed destined.

At first we only distributed pamphlets in underground dungeons and swinger parties. But after one of our pamphlets ended up in Oscar's garbage can... we realized we needed something less tangible. Welcome the dawning of the electronic age.

The new idea of the Internet granted us anonymity and could greatly increase our readership. Within three months www.MuppetLoving.uk was born. And golly, we couldn't BELIEVE the response.

It was an overnight sensation. The first day alone we got over ten thousand hits, and it just expanded from there. Now we offer a fully stocked store of sex toys, Muppet and Muppet-Lovers (Muppheads) personals section, live video feeds and hundreds of other services.

But that's enough of the introduction; here is our ten-step guide to maintaining Eroticism in a relationship:

1) Always, ALWAYS keep scissors handy by the bed. Any Muppet couple who has gone for hours, knows that after awhile... you just get sore. So, what we suggest, is that with a quick snip in your side, or back... VOILA! A new hole for your partner to use... and abuse! Just remember to sew it back up after!

2) Stay away from the rear door! Think about it kids, you've hand a hand up there for an ENTIRE workday, do you really think A. They still want that area stimulated? B. They'll even be able to feel you? (Well, maybe if you're Mr. Snuffleupagus)

3) Toys, toys, TOYS! We can't stress this one enough. Something new in the bedroom always spices up the scene. One time Bert and I were in a rut, then I came home one day to find him chained to the wall in a full body latex suit. His only words to me, before I zipped his mouth shut, were... 'Hit Me.'

4) Invite a Friend! One of the benefits of being Muppets kids is that we come in all shapes and sizes. I remember one time we had Beecker over... lets just say... his head is good for things besides thinking!

5) Get a little rough! Try spanking or slapping your partner. When you feel their felt covered hand, smack against your hollow cheek, the sound it makes is magical. Just make sure you use a safety word! Ours is 'soap.'

6) Roleplay! Once Bert and I decided to roleplay that we were Luis and Maria from down the block on Sesame Street. Soooo, I stuffed up my ears with cotton and let him beat me.

7) Have a mind-altering experience! Sometimes, you can't get to where you want to be on your own. That's when Bert and I spice it up a bit, usually with Ecstasy or LSD. When the walls are melting and you feel like you can know what your partners thinking, the sensations are amazing. Be careful though, once Bert got some Angel Dust laced with Heroin, and he ended up sticking my rubber ducky up his behind so that he could 'stop feeling so hollow.'

8) Don't use protection. Now, this is only for serious couples out there, who trust their partners. But, when I peel back my felt and enter Bert, it's much more intense than if I'm going in covered. Something about yelling at him to scream like a bitch while I'm taking him rawdog... makes the experience so much more intimate.

9) Try autoerotic affixation. Have you have had someone play with your stitching? When Bert starts undoing me, there is just something primal about it. It's almost like he's god, as each stitch becomes undone and more of myself is exposed to the world. Just be careful, make sure you have extra stuffing nearby and a needle and thread should your partner become overexcited in his ripping.

10) When in doubt, shout! Verbal play is key in a good sexual encounter. Screaming your partner's name, or how good it feels always increases stimulation. Also compliment their genitalia. Bert likes it when I refer to his organ as the big bad banana. He'll keep slapping me across the face with it until I do, and don't tell him... but sometimes I let him whack away for fun!

Well, we hope these tips help! Here are some users responses!

'My sex life was going nowhere, I mean... who wants a guy that lives in a garbage can? Then I read B&E's tips. Next time I was on a date, I slapped her across the face in the middle of sex and we've been together ever since.' ~Oscar the Grouch

'Vy old 'dirty talk' uzed to juz be za counting! Vone! Two! Tree! In time wit each thrust. Now I calls her a 'Vucking whore' and she lovez me!' ~The Count

'We've always been lovers but it wasn't until B&E made it okay to come out have we publicly admitted it.' ~The three blind mice

'At first it was odd, and a little painful, being with a ten foot tall bird, but then he started inviting Elmo over, and lets just say... all that spunk counts in the sack. Thanks Bert and Ernie' ~Maria

'At virst I vas ashamed, I vas pertified. But now I see nothing wrong in rubbing my self in vegetables and hors-de-vors do bors to gors...' ~The Swedish Chef
Saturday, June 19th, 2004
12:15 am
DSL Rocks Hard... For The Most Part.
I no longer have to listen to that loud, annoying, mind rattling noise used to connect me to the internet using a 56k modem. My downloads, and all around internet experience is superior in every way possible. It's just really awesome. Sadly due to my newly acquired DSL, my old screen name is no long in service, so I was forced to make a new one. If you want it, just ask. If not, I may IM you. On another note, I'm planning on having a pool party around the weekend after the fourth of July. The party is still in the planning stages, but hopefully all will work out. That's all for now. Later Days.
Friday, June 11th, 2004
3:10 am
Concerts
July 24th-king django, dr ring ding, eastern standard time, and the stingers at the bottom lounge 10 bucks doors open at 5.

The 25th at the bottom lounge, 10 bucks, the doors open at 5 and the bands are streetlight manifesto, the electics, the know how, and the independents.

The 18th of September the toasters and the planet smashers at 6 pm 12 bucks at the bottom lounge.
Wednesday, June 9th, 2004
12:54 am
So That's How They Do It!
I found this on www.collegehumor.com. It entertained me, and hopefully you too.

Now, listen close, kids. Buckle your seatbelts (and if you're a hot chick, take your shirt off when you do it, and take a picture), because I'm about to tell you something your school doesn't want you to know: The object of college is not to educate yourself. And no, it isn't to get heroically drink either; they don't give degrees for beer bong proficiency (just trust me). No, what you're really "learning" in college is how to give the illusion of intelligence. You don't actually have to know a damned thing to get an A; you just have to convince your professor that you do. Pretty cool scam, if you ask me. Now, math majors can't really work any of it to their advantages, but math majors are losers. Just kidding, nerds, Jesus loves you!

How then, you ask, do I take advantage of such a scheme now that I know the secret? Good question, faithful reader. The good news is that it's really easy to pretend to know what you're talking about. For example, people tell me I'm such a genius and blah blah blah. Please. I'm dumber than that sorority chick singing along to In Da Club over there. My favorite word ever is "diarrhea." My IQ is 4. I have no idea how to do anything in calculus at all. The only foreign language I know is Southern, and even that's pretty spotty. I don't even know who my biological father is, although that's more an issue for therapy than Poli-Sci. But I digress. The point is, I can fake being smart, and now, you can too!

Interrupt your sentences with "of course" a lot. Those two words are now your best friend. It implies that whatever you're saying, no matter how stupid it is, is so logical that anybody would agree with it. Observe:

"Immanuel Kant was the father of transcendental idealism" = I am a book-copying bitch. "Immanuel Kant, of course, was the father of transcendental idealism" = I am such a genius that talking to you, professor, is beneath me. Wash my car.

Quote so much you want to throw up. I'm really surprised more people don't do this. Kids, our teachers used to be college students too. They know the bullshit game better than we do. Either that, or you go to a school with idiots at the helm, and you shouldn't even need my help getting a passing grade. The point is, what's the point of paraphrasing the text and looking stupid? You might as well toss in an entire paragraph or two at a time, and what do you know, your paper is writing itself.

Play the fake hand-raise game. This works much better in sections. Whenever there's a discussion, and someone raises their hand, pay special attention. AS SOON AS he calls on Vinnie Volunteer, raise your hand and look right at your victim. As soon as he starts making his "Look at how much I studied" argument, just point at him, nod affirmatively, and put your hand back down. Congratulations on becoming the smart but shy student! Not only are you earning a better discussion grade without actually knowing anything, but chicks will want to study with you more often. Sometimes that means sex.

SPECIAL ENGLISH MAJOR TRIPLE BONUS! Pull a Hunter S. Thompson and capitalize words at the end of the sentence for No Real Reason.Absolutely glorious. The first rule of being an even halfway decent creative writing teacher is that you must love the Hunt-man (NOTE: nobody calls him that) better than your significant other, or hand, whatever. Seriously. It's kind of creepy. Just write any sentence you want, and then see what happens when you take the last phrase and make it proper. Not MC Hammer proper, but MC Hunter proper. I guarantee you that your prof will nut his Levi's when he reads your "Then that bitch Sarah drank my beer, the Thing I Wanted Most." Uncapitalized, it sucks rival-frat dick. Hunterized, it is Pure Gold.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, my IQ is off the charts, and I was a Top 10 finisher in Iowa at the National French exam as a high school senior. But you wouldn't have guessed that, would you? Exactly. It's not how smart you are, it's how smart they think you are. Now go out there and fool somebody, sport!
Monday, June 7th, 2004
9:27 pm
Wow, Just Wow. What Is The World Coming To?
I don't consider myself a patriot, a nationalist, or anything of the sorts. You will never see me waving those tiny little American flags around, jumping for joy on the 4th, or even reciting the pledge. No I don't say the pledge, that's right. Not because I'm using some form of non-violent protest, I don't say it because I'm damn lazy. I don't find most patriotic things helpful or even important. What is important though, is the death of a President, or a former President in this case. Many of you probably know already that Ronald Reagen died, but it's hard to tell by watching the news. It seems as though what appears to be Jennifer Lopez's nine hundredth marriage overshadows that of the death of a President. I turned on the news not long ago, and the first thing I expected them to mention was Reagen's death. But no, not today. It seems as though Mrs. Lopez got married, and everyone must know. I know they had the funeral televised, but it just seems like some television stations don't have their priorities in order. I may just be blowing this out of proportion, but it's just how I feel.
Friday, June 4th, 2004
12:58 am
The Truth Is Out There
As many of you know, I try to stay on top of government conspiracies as frequently as possible. This time, I uncovered the conspiracy to and all conspiracies. Cicada's, the seemingly harmless little bugs that spring up ever seventeen years or so, are vicious child eating bugs of doom sent from Mars to enslave the human race. Many of you will die, but me being the smart person I am, plan to befriend these vicious beasts in order to lengthen my lifespan for as long as possible. I welcome our new bug overlords, and hope that their stay on our planet will be a good one. Now you may think I'm crazy, but I have proof. Here is the facts about these Cicadas that Big Brother doesn't want you to know. The truth is out there, and it resides at this website...http://www.cicadaville.com. Later days, and long live the Cicada Swarm of Death!
12:36 am
Oh, If My Wang Could Talk
I found this on ubersite, it made me laugh, so I thought I would share it with you.

I would like to apologize for this before it starts. All I have to say is that I got precisely no sleep last night, and at 4:45 this morning, when the idea came to me, it seemed funny as hell. To those who find this to be somewhat below my standard fare, and I sorely hope there are some of you out there, all I can say is that, at 4:45 in the morning, I also thought the word "foil" was funny. Just say it, "Foil." Foil. Foil. Foil.






THE PENIS DIALOGUES
_____________________________________________________________________
Scene: Dark bedroom. Two people appear to be sleeping in the king-size bed. Sheets are rumpled and twisted about their bodies due to constant tossing and turning from the heat. The scene is illuminated by the television set, which shows gray blurs that resemble a small humanoid form. An electric fan oscillates fitfully on the dresser, creating a soothing white-noise effect.

itchy: (sleeping on stomach, flops grumpily from side, then to back.) Snuffle, snort. Gah. I think I might have actually slept there for a few seconds. Was I dreaming about a red 1976 Chevy Citation that was supposed to be a Honda Accord? Wonder what the hell that means. . .

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<enter [...] pete,>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

I found this on ubersite, it made me laugh, so I thought I would share it with you.

I would like to apologize for this before it starts. All I have to say is that I got precisely no sleep last night, and at 4:45 this morning, when the idea came to me, it seemed funny as hell. To those who find this to be somewhat below my standard fare, and I sorely hope there are some of you out there, all I can say is that, at 4:45 in the morning, I also thought the word "foil" was funny. Just say it, "Foil." Foil. Foil. Foil.






THE PENIS DIALOGUES
_____________________________________________________________________
Scene: Dark bedroom. Two people appear to be sleeping in the king-size bed. Sheets are rumpled and twisted about their bodies due to constant tossing and turning from the heat. The scene is illuminated by the television set, which shows gray blurs that resemble a small humanoid form. An electric fan oscillates fitfully on the dresser, creating a soothing white-noise effect.

itchy: (sleeping on stomach, flops grumpily from side, then to back.) Snuffle, snort. Gah. I think I might have actually slept there for a few seconds. Was I dreaming about a red 1976 Chevy Citation that was supposed to be a Honda Accord? Wonder what the hell that means. . .

<Enter One-eyed Pete, the Pee Hard-on>

Pete: Hey, you're up!

itchy: Hey, you too. What are you doing here?

Pete: Oh, I usually pop up here a couple time a night, you know, just to see what's going on. You usually aren't awake for it though.

itchy: Well, I'll be. You picked a hell of a night for it. I haven't been able to sleep for crap.

Pete: Well, that's what you get for drinking a caffeine filled soda before bed. You usually cut that stuff out at noon.

itchy: I know, I was just really thirsty and it sounded good for some reason.

Pete: Well, I can understand that. Sometimes you just gotta say, what the fuck. If it feels good, do it. That's what I always say.

itchy: Yeah, but you're not really the more cerebral of the two of us you know.

Pete: True, but I do know how to use my head when I need to.

itchy: Touche. So what have you been up to? It seems like we never get to spend any quality time together any more.

Pete: Me? Oh, you know, little of this, little of that. Been doing a lot of urinating mostly. It isn't the most rewarding work, but it is still important. At least that's what I tell myself to make it through the day.

itchy: I hear ya. You should try my job some time. Let me tell you, ACTION. PACKED.

Pete: You know, we should really try to get together more often. Like, maybe tonight we could do something, you know, after work.

itchy: Sounds pretty good to me.

Pete: And uh, maybe you could bring the ol' wife along, if you know what I mean.

itchy: You bet I do. But that plan already backfired on me once tonight.

Pete: Yeah, I saw that. It was hard to watch. No pun intended.

itchy: I know. Its just these hands of mine. Sometimes I underestimate their power.

Pete: Sure, sure. I hear ya. One minute you are the king of romance, giving the greatest back rub the world has ever seen, the next, she's in a coma. I think your problem is one of timing. You don't know when to quit.

itchy: Could be. I don't know. I know that with great power, comes great responsibility. Spider-man taught me that. But it seems like these hands have the power to give so much to so many . . . it doesn't seem right to only use them half-way.

Pete: I can see that, but where does that attitude leave you? High and dry my friend, high and dry.

itchy: Yeah, but look how soundly she's sleeping. I did that. That makes me feel pretty good too.

Pete: Okay, then try thinking about me. What about my needs?

itchy: Your needs?

Pete: Sure. You want to get prostate cancer? Well, I need to keep the juices flowing if we don't want thing backing up and getting all funky.

itchy: I guess I hadn't thought about that.

Pete: Well, that's why I'm here. Don't worry, I'll take care of you.

itchy: That's what I'm worried about. I was with you at the gas-station you know. I'm not sure how you took over, but I'd rather you not do it again.

Pete: Hey, how is Rikku doing anyway?

itchy: I have no idea. We aren't going back there.

Pete: Oh come on, I was just funnin'. Give me a break. Still though, you gotta admit, it woulda been cool, huh? I can see it now, slip her some ginsing and some of that Niagra stuff . . .

itchy: Niagra?

Pete: Yeah, its supposed to be a form of Viagra for women. Get's 'em all hot and bothered. Oh! Or we could try getting some ecstasy. I've heard that freaking ROCKS.

itchy: Dude. We don't do drugs.

Pete: Well what the hell do you call alcohol then, Mr. Puritan? Oh, that reminds me, if you aren't going to be going out boozing the way you used to, you really need to start drinking more water. We don't want to get kidney stones either.

itchy: Thanks for the tip, I'll try to do better. But just because I use alcohol doesn't mean I want to take the next step and move into other drugs.

Pete: I know. But that's because you are a total prude. And a borderline fascist, I might add. What's going on with the TV there?

itchy: That's The Boy. He's sleeping.

Pete: You actually have your child under surveillance? He's what? One? Whatdoyathink? He's working for Al Queda?

itchy: It isn't surveillance, its a monitor. Just like the ones most people use to listen if their kid is crying, we just watch him too.

Pete: I don't know, sound a lot like 1984 to me. Big Brother is watching you.

itchy: I think you're paranoid.

Pete: I think you're a wannabe John Ashcroft.

itchy: Shut up, dick.

Pete: Blow me.

itchy: Can't. We tried that, remember? Back when we were like 15 or something.

Pete: I told you that you should never have quit taking gymnastics.

itchy: I never took gymnastics. You must be thinking of someone else. But hey, buddy, listen. I like you . . . just not in that way.

Pete: No. You are just chicken shit.

itchy: And you are just another leftist iconoclast. But seriously, I heard a story about a guy who tried that and broke his neck. They found him like that. With his ass all up in the air, millimeters from his goal.

Pete: I am left-leaning . . . that's true. And I think you are thinking about Clerks, or Mallrats or something.

itchy: Oh, you're right. Definitely a Kevin Smith movie. But hey, how does that work, by the way? The left-leaning thing? I'm right handed.

Pete: Pffff. No idea. Its mystery is exceeded only by its power.

itchy: Ha! Nice one! Dude, Where's My Car?, right? Ha! High five!

Pete: . . . . .

itchy: Dude. High. Five!

Pete: I don't have hands you dipshit! How can I high five you without hands?

itchy: Oh, right.

Pete: Hey, how about a hug?

itchy: Who's a what now?

Pete: You know a nice, tight, warm, vigorous hug. You know I love hugs.

itchy: Uh, right . . .

Pete: Come on, you know you want to.

itchy: I'm not going to deny that. But I thought we had plans for tonight. I don't want to waste any of my mojo.

Pete: Pussy.

itchy: That's what I'm talking about!

Pete: Oh, forget it. I give up. I'm going back to sleep. Get out of bed you moron. We have to pee.

<alarm clock sounds>

itchy: Ug.

itchy's wife: Grumble, grumble, snort. Were you talking to someone?

itchy: That's just my alarm. The radio. Go back to sleep. Get some rest.
itchy: (under his breath) You're going to need it. Mwuh ha ha ha ha ha ha!


<End Scene>
Sunday, May 30th, 2004
12:01 am
Crazy Emos
Emo is the route of all evil. I personally do not see how hard it can be to make up lines like "I am the misplaced words on the tip of your tounge." How do I know that? Because I just made that up. That wasn't planned. It was like a freestyle.....only it was emo. So I guess that would be called "crying."

Well, that was bad. Anyway, I figured all of you kids out there probably are asking "Why am I reading this?" But maybe, just maybe, you also want to know how you can learn to fit into this new scene. Or....in order to make it sound more emo...this new "scream."

So, without further ado, here is a step-by-step list of how to become emo:

1) Lose Any Sense Of Shame: This might be the most important thing to keep in mind. No matter what, you can never let anyone get you un-down. People will give you looks (well, you hope they will....since you are mainly doing this for the appearance) and you are just going to have to deal with this. After you learn how to play a few chords on your acoustic guitar and have scribbled out a few "heart felt" lyrics in your memo book, you are going to have to learn to perform in front of crowds (your mirror or, if you make it big, your parents in between commercials). You cannot afford holding back because you are afraid of what you look like. One key point: if all else fails, CRY. You might look like a girl, but at least you will still be emo.

2) Learn Some Self Control: This is very important. If you are new to this emo-lifestyle (which can also be referred to as "stupid) you might not be used to appearing upset all the time...but you must. You cannot afford to ever crack a smile in public. People may start thinking you are (::gasp::) happy? That would not be good at all. Try to learn to save any of these "happy" feelings for when you are alone (most likely you will be alone a lot if you are this emo). When these times come, let out just a brief smile, take a deep breath, and then sniff some onions in order to get your eyes watery (it's a nice effect).

3) The Glasses: The thick-rimmed, black glasses are integral to a perfect Emo Get Up.....Kids (respect the pun). Without these, people may see some of your face. If they do this, you run the risk of showing emotion. It doesn't matter if you need glasses in real life or not, get these glasses. You'll look like Buddy Holly only (if this is possible) not as cool.

4) The Acoustic Guitar: As mentioned above, the acoustic guitar is necessary for any emo kid. Drums? Too simple. Electric guitar? Way too happy sounding. Bass? Despite the low sound symbolizing the depths of your soul, it is still just not quite artistic enough. Flute? Not quite feminine enough. You need the acoustic. When people ask you to play it (even though you obviously don't know more than a few chords) just sniffle a little and say "To play without a girlfriend would be to play without a soul." They will slowly walk away and you won't have to worry about playing it anymore. High Five!!.....oh wait, you don't do those....too happy.

5) The Poetry Book: Write poetry all of the time. Why? Because no one is going to invite you anywhere else, so you might as well kill some time. Use this book of poems to, originally, draw girls' attention and, inevitably, chase them away.

6) The Hair: This is a big deal to an emo-kid. Since he cannot show emotion in any other aspect of his life, his hair must represent him. In other words, your hair must show people you like to follow trends but not look like you are. Therefore, dye it all black and go to a stylist. BUT HE/SHE BETTER BE GOOD.....or else your $30 haircut might not look like you simply cut it yourself. Make sure at least one eye is covered by your hair. When asked why you have your hair over your eye say something like "::sigh:: It is my shield to the cruel world."

7) The Webcam: This is an E-must. If you do not have a webcam, you do not know true sorrow. Take pictures of yourself all the time. Make sure you never appear happy...ever. Okay, well maybe you can smile in one picture, but quickly delete it. Never look directly at the camera, either. That would show interest. The picture should look something like as shown.

8) The Clothes: What is that phrase? Clothes make the man? Well, in this case, someone else's clothes make the man. You can only shop at Salvation Army, Goodwill, or any other place where the average customer gets the early bird special and then grabs some lunch at the local food pantry. If you want to be a "posuer" (if that is still possible) you can grab some t-shirts and the like at your local Abercrombie outlet. These clothes aren't truly "emo," though, because they have a brand name on them. After you're done grabbing some shirts, it's time for some pants. Only Dickies or plain blue jeans can ever touch your legs. Shorts reveal too much leg which, in turn, may show some character on your part. Remember: the key is to remain obscure when you really are secretly hoping to be noticed by everyone. Finally, you cannot forget about the shoes. Stay with anything that looks like you parents wore them for 10 years....only buy them, brand new (again, pun), for $55 at Hot Topic.

9) Music: You're almost there!! You've got the image, now all you need is.....wait, what's that? You are only doing this for the image? Hmm....

Well, let's assume someone out there actually wants to complete their Emo-city. You're final step is choosing the correct music. There are two key points to this. First, ONLY listen to bands that are unknown. If they have already been discovered by anyone other than you, they have "sold out" and you have no respect for them anymore. Secondly, once you find these bands, make sure their names follow this simple formula: They must be three words long; they can start with a "The"; words like"theory," "project," and some type of Day are always a plus.

Finally, if you become a full Emo-head (a.k.a. Cry-Baby) you must join a band. At first, just be a solo artist on your acoustic guitar (see #4). This can also be called the "learn you suck at music" period. After that, if you at least have a decent voice, join a full band. Make sure the name follows the formula I stated above.

Well, that's it. If you can follow these simple steps, you will eventually be a true Emo Kid. Make sure to read everything clearly (wipe your eyes as you read the directions if your tears are getting in the way) because we wouldn't want any mix ups. You might misread something and actually seem content to someone.
Monday, May 17th, 2004
4:21 pm
I Thought I Knew People. Wow, Was I Wrong.
Well today I was simultaneously the happiest and angriest I've ever been. No, I'm not exaggerating, I'm entirely seriouss. Let me elaborate. As you may or may not know, there was an assignment given recently in my English class that required Zach, Kristen, Andy, and I to make a make a Science Fiction movie. I was in charge of writing the script, and I finished that a long while ago. Zach was in charge of only one thing, the video camera. Kristen and Andy were to act in the movie along with countless others. It seemed nothing could go wrong, and we would get it done well ahead of schedule. You see, about two weeks ago we were all going to meet up at Eric's house and film it, but ZACH loaned his camera to someone. So that day was wasted, and sadly nothing was accomplished... except that awesome game of monkey on the wood chips. Now we needed a camera, and I offered to supply one but everyone had to come to my house because my parents refused to let it out of their sights. They probably cared more about the safety of that camera than my safety to be completely honest. Of course I do have a history of breaking cameras, but that's another story all together. I arranged for everyone to come over to my house and tape on Wednesday of last week. I cleaned up the house, and was fully prepared to have people over. But yet again, ZACH intervened. He made arrangements with Mr. Jacobson, my English teacher, to turn it in on Monday instead of that Friday. So yet another day where I was fully prepared to do the project was wasted. So we arranged for the taping to being on Sunday, the day before the project was supposedly due. Sadly on Sunday, something happened and I couldn't make it. I've been debating to tell anyone what happened, because frankly it's none of their business nor do I want their sympathy, but it seems like no one believes that something came up, and instead they assume I was out gallivanting with other friends. This is far from the truth, in fact I sat at my grandmother's house worrying about my mother and my soon to be sister all day. The truth is my mom thought she had a miscarriage, and rushed to the hospital. Soon after my mom went to the hospital I received a call from Kristen saying that I need to get out to Worth and tape the movie. My brothers and I were home alone, and I had to watch them so I couldn't make it, so I told her I couldn't make it, without actually telling her why since it doesn't involve her. They went on to tape the movie and used a different script since I had the only copy. I arrived to school today and was quickly informed that they decided not to give me credit. I ended up telling Zach why I wasn't there, but he didn't care. He didn't even act concerned. Even though I couldn't make it to taping, at least Zach, Kristen and Andy were sympathetic, oh wait... they don't care. Well now I'm going to probably fail English if I don't finish a project designed for four people alone by Friday. Not only did my "friends" completely screw me over, but they are probably causing me to fail English, which will result in me being grounded for the majority of summer vacation. This has made me the angriest I think I've ever been. On the plus side though, I'm overjoyed because my mom found out today that she is still having the baby and didn't have a miscarriage. I'm so confused. Am I in the wrong, should I be penalized for caring about my family more than a project? I normally wouldn't think so, but I guess they feel differently. Two weeks until school is up... I better enjoy them because it's going to be the last time I can go out or see any of you again for quite a long time. Later days.
Saturday, May 15th, 2004
1:51 pm
I'm Cancelling The Formal Party
Well, it just seems like no one is coming, so I'm just going to cancel the formal party. It just seems like everyone has something else to do. I'll probably go and hang around with Seany or Mikey, so if you need something to do, just gimme a call. Maybe some other time I'll throw the formal party, but right now it just isn't going to work out. Later Days.
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