It's not delivery, it's degenerative radiation!

This blog is weak. It must die.

2006-02-27T21:46:00.000-05:00

I wonder if anyone actually looks at this. This has been a terribly useless little blog.

There is no structure to it, and the constant threat of wanting to use it for personal reasons. Like, I could talk about crying or something. Things like that don't jive well if I want to write jokes the next day.

So, who knows what will happen to this thing. The more important thing is that something new is coming out of this mess.

www.sheerwillpower2.com

Not that it's going to be any better. Just more space and bandwidth, I guess.

Confessions of a Teenage Queen, pt. 2

2006-02-02T16:08:00.000-05:00

"I once cheated at a potato growing contest. I grew my entry in imported soil, which was against the rules."

The Crunch Wrap Supreme Is Back!

2006-01-31T21:33:00.000-05:00

I remember a news report that played on the television a few days ago. A low-income apartment complex near where I used to live when I was in the no-income bracket had caught fire, and the families had all gathered in the parking lot, still in shock. Except for one family.

This family was crying, and the mother in particular, was crying, but with shouting involved.
After a while, I turn my television to mute with subtitles on.

>WOMAN: My baby!
>My baby!
>My baby!

Whatever it was the reporter on the scene was saying was not represented in the subtitles. I decided to act on the assumption that it was profane, as the natural reaction one has to an upset woman is anger, violence, and belittlement.

After a few minutes of doubtlessly intense accusations of how she’s put on weight in the last couple of years, a newcomer appeared on the scene, with a baby. Unlike this woman, however, our new entrant had already managed to be back to their original weight from before they had gotten the baby, which served to only drive the point home, as she stopped her hysterical crying and accepted the message.

The bearer of child, was none other than a heroic Crunch Wrap Supreme. It had been grilled a bit more than it was used to in the rescue, and was offered a ride to the hospital by a bunch of college kids who had gathered in hopes to get on television.

The noble Wrap Supreme initially resisted the idea, as he didn’t want to impose. The students insisted it wouldn’t be out of their way, as they were heading to Deliciousville, which was over in the same area, anyhow.

I stopped watching the program at about that point. Despite the occasional interesting story, I generally find the news to be boring. I would rather watch “television” television. The kind that has a vested interest in me watching it, like convincing me to buy a Swiffer.

I kept up my regular watching of television for the next couple of days. Whilst fighting with myself over what products I should be influenced into purchasing in between acts of my favorite shows, I found my memory jogged by a commercial for Taco Bell.

The Crunch Wrap Supreme has recovered from its horrible burns, and has returned to its executive position at the fast food chain.

I turned to the king of research, the internet, in hopes of finding out the truth. It turns out the news report had been part of the outgrowth of a massive series of publicity stunts to reintroduce the Wrap Supreme. Sure, the building burned down, but who owned the building? It was bought by an real estate affiliate of the chain. The woman, she wasn’t even crying! It was all an act.

And the baby! Well, actually, I don’t know what the deal with the baby was. All I can really find out is that they left it there, as it didn’t want to go to the after party with everyone else.
Hopefully it has found work by now, as the weather is starting to get colder.

Tonight Was Not What I Expected

2006-01-30T01:13:00.000-05:00

Tonight was an interesting night, after I finished cleaning up my room, that is.
My room, for years has been in a constant state of disarray. Similar to the parallels with my life, it all began in college. It just happened.
I’ve been working on undoing all of my bad habits. I eat at home instead of not at home. I try to save money, and be a little healthier.
All stories have a lull, and then the storm is out with its coat on, accosting you wherever you go.
So, as soon as I had my room clean, vacuumed. I was waiting on a girl to meet up with me and we could go see The Aristocrats. It was a wonderful place to be, and I was thinking of my life in positive terms. Like, “ooooh, the future might just be okay, after all.” Just like that, but with conviction.

The doorbell, and I think she’s uncharacteristically early for the times she meets up. I go out, and first think that there had been a fire. Lights are everywhere, and maybe is there something I can do to help? Maybe if I had a couch or bed I can let them use?

It’s about four EMS trucks, nine people, and a stretcher with some equipment laid across the top, waiting for me to open the door. Looking back on it, I wonder what they would have done had this happened an hour or so later on, when I left the house by itself.
I open the door, and yes, this is such and such address.

You got a call that someone here has been poisoned, or overdosed? I’m the only one here, and I think I’m alright.

We search the house, looking for bodies that I might not have known were lying unconscious. I thought I was the only way home.

No bodies were found, but I did find myself trying to rationalize the following: we went to the basement, where one of my roommates and her dogs stay. She was out of the area at the time, and we found sleeping pills all over the floor. The culprit? No, the dogs had gotten at it, ripped it apart, and left it all over the floor.

I spent a moment thinking, how did EMS get called on the dogs poisoning themselves? It was surreal, finally finding the bottle of sleeping pills, but no one to take them (the dogs didn’t either, by the way).

Anyway, we finally found out it was someone who got a call from another roommate, thinking she might have done something to herself. She was out of town, so it was a guess that she was here. It took a while to piece it together, and now I’m just hoping to hear back from her soon, to find out if she’s okay.

Why can’t there ever be a period of life where everything is actually alright? I’m tired of troubles and worry.

Confessions of a Teenage Queen

2006-01-29T14:44:00.000-05:00

"I killed my sister and usurped the throne."

Kraftwerk's "The Model" as a mission statement

2006-01-27T22:11:00.000-05:00

Ah, what a world we live in. We have these wonderful things to use to express ourselves, and we can share our deepest thoughts with those who are so close to us. Or we can just stick some text on a sight and forget about it. Or actively ignore it!

It's truly a wonderful time to be in existence. We can spit in the metaphorical eyes of someone across the globe-- on the other fucking side!--and know that they might really be insulted. They might cry! Their loved ones, the ones they are close to, might just wonder what is that the underlying sullen heartache they carry with them is all about, and we can rest happily, knowing we caused the love and concern in their hearts. Because their friend, doubtlessly, sucks.

And this, is the essence of all these advantages our generation has. We have lots of ways to live in a global community, but that's not really that amazing. I don't want to be in a global community, and I don't really want to go golf in Scotland. Not even virtually you may ask. Not even virtually.

So, I'm just going to try to spit all around the world, and land it in my own eyes, after it's extended orbit, of course. It may evaporate when dealing with the atmosphere. This is still a young technology, we should remember.

And, I'm going to do it in a very pretentious way. And write cutter poetry.

Hello my name is _____

2006-01-25T20:38:00.000-05:00

Oh, no! I have blogged. This is bad. Bad is not good. Oooooh nooooo!