Wednesday, July 30, 2008

gay horses and purple people runnning around calling people smoofsblurgh and slapping them with herrings

Well then...

I was puroosing through my past e-mails looking for jimmy's number, which I never found (call me if you have it), when I came across a link that will bring tears to your eyes. Or it might make you constipated with supressed memories...any way here it is
http://rhsnerds.proboards51.com
I think some of you may have forgotten your id/pw, but I certainly got a good kick out of the fat lard (aka bishop) filter I put on bishops name. It was hilarius! Anyway, have some fun, but I don't know about completly resurecting the board. I think this might be a better home for us.

Also I called everyone except jimmy. Thus far Shorty, Ginger, Me, Swetty, Emily, Tony bologna and Queen Jake can come at 11:15 on the 5th of august. Bishibosh, I am waiting for you to call me or post to confirm time. I might be able to call conor and see if he can come and sell us refreshments for old time sakes. Will post and say whether I got through to him later. Well anyway...this message will self destruct in 10 seconds
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*KABLOOOOOM*

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The Happenings of 2:30AM.

The Tale of Terrier Terror!

I'm the type of person who'd rather stay up all night and sleep in the day. It's more serene to me. Normally... It was 2:30 am when that serenity was so rudely disturbed. And so, the tale begins.....

I was doing laundry, minding my own business. I had an unexpected doctor's appointment in the morning, so I was washing up last minute garments to wear. The laundry room is in the kitchen which is on the other side of the wall from my bathroom. The bathroom door opens into the living room. So, I'm walking into the kitchen, when I hear things running about in my bathroom. I thought nothing of it. I have two cats and a Scottish terrier so, hearing things go bang in the night is nothing unusual. We had the litter box in my tub last night so my parents could sleep with out the cat meowing up a storm to announce he took a crap. Back to the story. I thought nothing of the sounds because I figure my cat was just knocking things all my bathroom counter like he normally does. I was moving the clothes over to the dryer when I heard CRASH! BANG! BOOM! MREOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW. I go running into the bathroom to find Mikey (my cat) running around in circles around the bathtub. Naturally, I went and looked in the tub, found nothing and thought the cat was just high on cat nip. But, he kept running around and finally stopped at the shower curtain and was meowing up a storm. So I did the logical thing. I lifted up the shower curtain and oh what did I find...

Now, normally I wouldn't have been so brave. But the parents had just gone to bed and I was simply unaccustomed to anything out of the ordinary going on in the house at that hour. I wasn't really thinking straight, mind you it WAS 2:30am, and when I lifted the curtain, I didn't really expect to find anything. But, when the mouse came scurrying out from under the shower curtain I squealed loud enough to wake my parents. When they, and Toby, the dog, came running out of their room, I was standing up on the recliner and pointing at the bathroom door shouting "MOUSE!! There's a freakin' MOUSE in my tub!!!" The cat's still chasing it round and round the bathtub, like a Tom and Jerry cartoon only more realistic. If my cat could raise an anvil, that would be killer awesome, but he cant. My mom didn't even have the chance to put her glasses on. Now, terriers are bred to be rodent chasers. A Scottish terrier's tail is specifically designed so you can grab it when he's tracked whatever back to it's burrow. So, the dog went charging in the bathroom, ready to kick butt and take names. I quickly removed the cat box from the tub, shut the door, and waited. By this time mom was sitting on the couch and I was sitting in the recliner I was previous standing on while squealing like the girl I am. We waited and we waited, all the while hearing the cat hiss and meow, and the dog scratching at the tub. We finally heard a THUD! I rush into the bathroom, and the 1ft tall terrier is IN the tub with the cat and the mouse. The cat was laid down in the corner of the tub, meowing like Larry's mom, the dog was digging at the mouse and, the mouse was trying to dive under the cat for cover. Was quite a sight, I must say. The dog would, once in a while, grab the mouse in his mouth, flip it up like a flap jack and, when it'd land, go continuing digging at it. This cycle happened many times. I closed the door again and waited more. What was I waiting for you ask? I was waiting... for silence.
And then... it came. I opened the door, peeking just around the door frame enough to see that the dog was still flipping the mouse, though now, it was dead. I went into the kitchen, grabbed the dust pan, since the cat wasn't going to eat it (Stupid cat.), took the dog out of the tub.... and picked the mouse up with the dust pan. The poor thing already had rigor setting in. I proceeded to the front door. As I was opening the door..... the mouse... rolled over on its back feet straight up in the air. My mom saw this and burst out laughing. I went out and disposed of the mouse.
I was my mother's hero. My dog's bane. My cat's spoil sport.... I was... Vampi.... the mouse-taker-care-ofer.
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Hey Guys, I'm Employed

Maybe. I mean, I went to the job interview (at Subway) (yes, the one where Emily works) and the nice Goth chick that interviewed me (I'm going to assume she's at least emo because she has pink hair) didn't totally hate me, which is a good sign.


So I have to go back on Friday and pick up the orientation packet, and take a test on Monday. But, should I not fail at either of those two tasks, I'll be kicking some serious sandwich ass in a couple of days.

Hopefully I won't kill myself when school starts sneaking up on me. Which will be in a week or two.
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Monday, July 28, 2008

Fuck Everyone Everywhere

As you might be able to discern, I didn't fucking enjoy my fucking trip to fucking Estes Park fuck. This is mostly because of horse shows. Since I have nothing better to do, what follows is a detailed description of all horse shows everywhere.

Horse shows are a boring waste of time carried out by brain dead self-righteous assholes who hate anyone who doesnt agree with them. You may think this sounds harsh. It isn't. First off: the events. Half of all horse show events are where a bunch of people on horses go in a circle at different speeds as instructed, then go in the opposite direction and do the same thing. Sound fun? About as fun as being castrated by a pack of hungry pit bulls. The other half is where a bunch of people, one at a time, go over a series of jumps in a specific order. This takes hours, as everyone takes a warmup go, then a real go, then another real go. After you go, you wait about an hour to find out if you got in the top 6. After that, you have no fucking clue. Second: the people. Everyone's a girl, and all two guys who take it seriously are gay. So are half the girls. Anyway, the girl's horse comes first, even before breathing. And these boring events that consist mostly of standing there matter so much, that everyone cries, either because their godly angel horse didn't get first, or they did get first but they didn't think they deserved it. And if you say to them "The main goal of this is to have fun", they bite your head off (most of the time figuratively). Same thing happens if you disagree with them. And they all think that they're the best people the human gene pool ahs ever produced because they ride horses. Like everyone else before cars. Third: price. No one has ever made money at a hrose show unless they bet on it. All the good horses cost at least $20,000, and you have to pay a few hundred bucks every month to make sure they don't die. So all in all, you wil be financially fucked forever. You even have to pay to compete. Best prizes they offer are some horse thing you already have 10 of. Fourth: the judges. It doesn't matter how good you are, the people who know the judge are going to win. Always. It makes the government look honest and truthful. Fifth: I don't care anymore because I hate horse shows. For every 10 minutes of competing there's hundreds of thousands of dollars, years of preparation, hours of waiting doing nothing, mountians of depression, and the occasional prize of a horse blanket or empty scrapbook. The Fucking End Read the full article.