Expat of Sadgewich

I don't think so, anyway.

I'm just going through my Friend of list and telling everyone potato on their text messages--the wonders of technology.

Yes, I am that bored, and down.

Granted the outcome could be disastrous in certain areas, but i tend to believe that life will slap you whether you do or don't, so...

potato.

Gee, I hope this isn't one of the signs of the Apocalypse...that part in Revelations where it gets disjointed, like maybe one of the entries was missing?

Rev 1:2:3--what're we fightin for?
And on the day of the near-failure, there was mention of tubers upon the cells.
The Seals were weakened.

on another note--I never mentioned that I am sorta quasi published, neh? Yeah, I've got an entry in one of the Kagatane's netbooks, right after they became the Official Home of Ravenloft on the Net, and around the time Mangrum bailed to join the team and write Carnival, did a Pocket domain. I also posted art on their site, the Azalin in the t-shirt was much popular.

Les Mozingo--da's me.

Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves,
both male and female, provided they are purchased from
neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this
applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify?
Why can't I own Canadians?

Let's see--God hates Cap'n, murnkay is an asshole (the votes are in!), my kitty is losing her mind, and mad at me because I want to build old guitars into custom coolness, and damn the torpedoes! ahahahaha!

It also seems that my mind is coming unhooked from my hands, causing a great and grand groovy fuckall when I try to type. You don't really see much of it here, thanks to my ability to still see when I've fucked a word right out of it's proper form, but wee things are still getting through, little things that are not part of my normal typography.

We damn near stalked hedgegoth--the kitty were thinkin about goin to the zoo tomorrow, when I mentioned in jest that we go to stalk hedgegoth.

(there he is! there he is! oo!)
(shh! I think he hears us!)

Although, for technical reasons, I will now state that I haven't stalked anyone. I was more of a passive type than that, just tending to go to places that my prey frequented, sit around, and think about them.

Shri's roof leaks--just in case you missed it. Found her on AIM, and we had us a good ol'fashioned blast. I offered to kneecap him, if through some fluke I step through a wormhole on my way to the pisser and wind up in Kansas. Now, granted: some people like to use the line, I think we aren't in Kansas anymore, to signify a departure from their home, their norms, but what if, all of a sudden, you found yourself, a denizen of other places, whisked involuntarily into Kansas?

Exactly what do you say then?

Someone should write a book for scenarios like that, where you can't find the right thing to say. Or maybe we should all, as a group, decide on a single word that would be used to express all unprepared situations. Akin to Mary Poppins and her Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, save that my vote would immediately go for the word Gibbledyfuck.

You have to pick a word with one of those consonants that no one can make their damn minds up about, so that the word itself can be expanded to encompass more situations, for example, to use my word:

pronounced JIB ledeefuck, it would be the perfect thing to shout as you evacuate your bowels in the presence of a rogue prop from Stan Winston's studios, possessed by the unquiet spirits of unrequited Furries.

Pronounced Gibb-eldeefuck, it could more easily fall into a more disco-based post-apocalyptic scenario, as in the time where John Travolta ground L. Ron Hubbard's femur up into a hallucinogenic paste and served it in the deli trays where they film Soul Train.

The fact that everyone seems to be having some sort of crisis has made me suddenly very nervous about my upcoming physical--be it something in the air, that makes it so square when we get together? Have the planets aligned unconfortably in the dark confines of Uranus to destroy us all? Are the Fat Boys planning a reunion tour?

(elapsed time 13:47:83)

Sorry! Spaced out there for a bit.

I'd probably go into some sort of insensitive rant, right about now, but I don't want to sound like an ass. Being one is still okay on my list, I guess, but sounding like one has suddenly fallen off of the holy eateries list, well outside of kosher.

Seems like everyone is dreaming.

I dreamt that I was in league with Jim Carrey as the Riddler, and Willem Dafoe as the Green Goblin, and between the three of us, we were destroying like basically everything--everywhere--we even killed James Earl Jones as the mayor of Dreamville.

Turns out the Green Goblin and the Riddler got on the outs, and they were trying to kill each other, and everything got all Manga-crazy, with the two of them running around in powered suits destroying all sorts of shgit in the attempt tpo kill each other...

They were jumping leagues and blowing each other up, and grappling with each other in the air, in the midst of a busy freeway. And Dafoe was trying to become the new mayor, but Carrey, who was left for dead, limped in and revealed all the evidence that marked Dafoe the mayorial candidate as the Green Goblin menace. And so then, thwarted, Dafoe turned into SuperSuit GReen Goblin, who was for some reason purple, and the battered Carrey and I had to bring him low...

...this batch slapped me in the mouth when i went to throw some milk in it, rolled me, and then kicked a hole in the TV before bustin' out the back door all pissed cuz I din't have enough money...

I would like to now hate one of you.
Volunteers?

potato potato potato,
they ate my soul...
dunk-dunkle dunk-dunkle poo-poo

"You have not yet reached the height of your depravity"

With these ominous words, I am thrown headlong into paroxysms of delight. Fear of reaching a sort of rut or, as in the case of most other radioactive energies, a half-life, has kept me from acheiving many things in the recent past. But now, by God, I have been given a Sign, a piece of the Utter Truth, that elusive thing that philosophers ulcerate themselves attempting to dissect and discover.

I have many horrid things left to reveal, to set loose on the hapless world, and its cowering denizens--mwahahahahaa!!

chrishaas is back.

I made a song once, and there's nothing you can do to stop it having existed.

Mainly because even if you believe that all things are possible and that by default would mean that you could make my song not have existed, you would then have been taking steps to have removed the song, thus proving that it existed, and negating your efforts pre-emptively.

Matter cannot be created or destroyed through normal means, but even through abnormal means isn't it simply conversion into a new form?