Suit Invader

m00n Anthem

Her

The place I'm in looks to be nothing but a dream. A realm of familiarness yet also of distance. But that's not the case. I've covered myself with a few lacerations here and there with a cooking knife, hoping each one after the other is the true cut to wake me up. I'm obviously in the kitchen of the house I stay. Dark. My mind tells me I shouldn't be here.

I can see a reflection of a face on the mirror. It's laughing and keeping a grin on it's self. I have no idea if it's laughing at me or of something different. I've hopes that this reflection is not of me.

Suddenly I get a tingle in my left hand. I stare at it, watching the flesh melt away and turn into a silhouette of it's former self. My mind then begins to race. I ask myself, "What kind of hell have I gotten myself into?"

I want to leave so bad but my body wants to stay. A voice in my head keeps telling me I shouldn't be here. That I have to get out. Yet, my feelings tell me to stay because I am comfortable. I'm listening to my feelings.

I sense a figure behind me. I turn to look. A figure of bliss. A figure of light that gives me a sense of new directions. A figure of a she. I want to reach out and grasp this pure being to take me away but I just stand there doing nothing but stare, covered in my blood from the hands to the elbows.

The figure turns around as if to finally say hello. I have no idea how long she had been there. I try to speak. I want to speak. But still I just stand there. I know in the back of my head, this figure, this person, this woman is my ticket out of here. She's the answer to all my questions. She's now staring at me.

I turn away. Too embarrassed to acknowledge because of the state of physical imagery I am in. I keep imagining that she's appalled with me. I look back at her and she's still standing there expressionless. As if I'm not even there.

I look to the left of me. In the darkness I can see an image of myself and her finally grasping one another. I see the sigh of relief on my face as well as a smile on hers. Then the image goes away.

To the right of me I look. I see myself standing over her. She's looking away from me. Then the darkness grasps me. This image then disappears as well.

I look back now at her infront of me. She's still staring. Still as if I'm not there. Still as if waiting for me to make the first move.

Something in the darkness behind her grabs her shoulder and turns her away. No matter how much light she emits from her figure, I can see nothing. She begins to smile while turning away from me. I finally move and reach out. Too late. She is then led away and disappears.

I'm by myself again. I miss her already. I look down towards the floor. The room has changed. I've found myself now in a box.

The box begins to fill with water. As time goes by, I'm now being pressed against the ceiling of the box. I'm not restraining. I don't even try to take a last breath before the water fully envelopes me inside the box.

I am born.

My fate has been predetermined. I am to live with these images.

The igloos are stealing our waffles

Drunks hate watermelons

How to obtain a nickname.

Drink all the alcohol that your stomach claims as it's favorites and walk to any random homeless person and shout out anything that comes to mind.



Conversations will ensue

Rock Band is forever ruined for me

Just recently (a la yesterday), I checked out some news for the LEGO Rock Band game. David Bowie and Iggy Pop will be in it in LEGO form. I'm not pissed about that. It's the Rock Bandwagon fans. They bitched and bitched about Guitar Hero having celebrities in it or "selling out" by making so many games either numerical or a certain band related, yet etched Hypocrite on their own tombstones.

I hate these fuckers. They've gone around talking about how great it is to have a LEGO game, Beatles, 1 and 2 but they keep forgetting theres an AC/DC game too, all while bashing Guitar Hero for mainly just having more titles. Fuck em. Fuck em all. I bet if the game said LEGO Guitar Hero they'd bash it all the way to hell.

I don't even like touching this game anymore because of these worthless faggots.


I just want super powers so I can destroy the world. I hate people.

I Hate Voodoo

Have you ever woken up and had the strange feeling that someone has sprinkled voodoo juice all over ya? Hmm, no?! Well damn, I'm alone on this one then I guess.

I think I need a chicken, a golf ball and the May 1997 issue of Playboy to cure myself of this.

I hate it. Ever since the movie Candyman came out, everyone's been voodooing. Course, they always fuck it up. Trying to chant a word for someone to die by the plague and you made you're coworker have a tail. Pinning a doll in the stomach so your ex-boyfriend hurls and you killed some guy in a Starbucks across the street by invisibly gouging his eye.

I seriously think this magic religion was founded by retarded midgets.

[ORIGINAL] MyFace, world's worst dating service

Did you just see that? My awesome literary skills just combined Myspace and Facebook. God damn I'm awesome.

Anyways. I've done some important (a la bored out of my flocking skull) research as of lately. The act of "dating" is the world's worst invention ever. Can you really consider dating an invention? Oh well, it is now.

Upon my investigation I smoked a full pack of cigarettes in 1 hour mainly to look as badass as those 1950/60 detectives on TV. I bet if William Shatner as Captain Kirk smoked cigarettes in every episode while boning jelly bean women that Star Trek would have been 3247983249832 times better than Star Wars, but it ain't. I've studied quite a number of profiles on this site (2) and ponder over the purpose of advertising that your profile is open to dating and serious relationships. I've also checked out a few of my drinking buddies pages who are in relationships and wanted to blow my brain away with the 25 out of 26 comments having the words "I", "You", "Love", etc. in them. Questions like "Who the flock has to be this obsessive to tell their partner that he/she loves them 12 times a day?" or "Dammit why am I out of b33r?" constantly ran through my head.

I'm pretty sure these said people really care about each other but this much?

I was gonna conclude over the ridiculous thought of people finding "true love" over the internet but I got postponed playing Left 4 Dead and forgot. Oh that's right, it's stupid. The mere thought of advertising my status in hopes that my favorite porn star will automatically find me attractive was actually a drunken dream but none the less a simple fantasy. Yes I know that that has nothing to do with what I'm getting at but it'll have to do.

What ever happened to the good ol days? Going to bars wearing a shirt you just bought from Wal-Mart pretending it's some expensive Indonesian silk shirt and then finding some lonely chick, ask to buy a drink, try to dance drunk, feed her a bunch of lies about how famous you are over seas and then completing the night at your cardboard mansion and then for the next 15 years can't get her to stop calling you to yell at you for making her crotch constantly itch. Has this generation truly gotten this lazy and stupid that we have to log onto a website to get 600 messages about fat chicks looking at your profile and thought you were interesting but you don't think she's fat cuz she used Photoshop to edit her picture to make her look like Angelina Jolie? That brings up another question. How the flock can anyone find Angelina Jolie attractive?

So now we get to the IF part. If someone on this planet really does meet someone over the internet. Answer, disaster. Disaster that the relationship has to first start with a date. Why's it called a date? Why not "An observational meeting between two people to pick out what they don't like about each other while at the sametime hint towards each other (women mostly prefer to call this teasing) that they want to have sex on the first night but then end it with a shut car door or front house door." I prefer that. Anywho. Dating is retarded in the fact that it brings lost hope and your drunken buddies constantly picking on you cuz you hadn't boned her on the first night even though secretly they haven't done that either unless they used roofies.

Now all that I've mentioned was mostly toward men. Women are alot more easier to explain. Soap operas and romance novels. Sometimes porn too. The answer to this conception is easy too. It's fake and you're never gonna live it.

I rest my case.





http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseact...logId=450419911

No Ting Tings, Yes Lousy Mexican Food

Ultimately denied. Me and friend arrived in Jacksonville, Fl. We were both hungry so we decided to eat at our favorite pizza restuarant. As we walked to the general area we both got pissed as the business is no longer there and the windows were litered with For Rent signs. So we ate at this "new" Mexican restuarant next to it. We got some waiter that couldn't even speak normal gibberish. I swore he kept asking me if I wanted a penny. The food sucked major ass. No taste to it all. Then we stood in a long ass line just to pay. Walked back to Jack Rabbits. Pulled out our IDs and the door guy asked us for tickets. We both knew something was awry. The show was sold out and packed like sardines. Disappointed that we drove all this way to just eat at a Mexican restuarant, we chuckled and said that that sucks and wen't back home. Almost get to see a show in a year of absence and get denied. What blew us off was that we've never been asked for tickets and never has a show there been sold out or packed despite being a small venue. Guess The Ting Tings are actually that quite popular than we imagined. Course it doesn't help living in Savannah, Ga. where everyone has horrible taste in music and never heard of what you listen to.

God dammit.