Another Classic Shannon Bash is Up

But you gotsta scroll down. Past the miscellaneous rubbish post. Damn blogger. I'd deal with ti, but it's three in the morning. I'm going to sleep.

Miscellanious Rubbish

Why? Because it's been too serious recently. Now, I've written some good shit recently, but as I recall, people come to this thing and don't comment, the jerks, because it's funny.

Newsflash, me talking about love? Not funny. Hence, there will now be funny shit.

Today I finished up finals. Well, sort of. I seem to have a history with trouble with finals, actually. Let me get into that.

So, imagine the scene. Anthony, 7th grade genius, looks at the camera. His rippling muscles hidden barely beneath his stylish shirt. He walks into the 8th grade algebra classroom. The girls swoon.

Alright, writing like that about 8th graders makes me feel like a goddamn pedophile. Let's try again.

I head into 8th grade algebra. Why? Cause I'm a goddamn genius. I'm a 7th grader at the time. I take the math course anyway. So, I rock my way through the final, feeling like a pro, when lo and behold, I finish. I chill for a bit. The bell rings. Oh, time to go, I think. I sweep everything off my desk, into my backpack. Including my final.

...Yeah. Not my best moment. Neither was doing the exact same thing next year, when, despite not really taking the course (more on that next) I was forced to take the final regardless. Into the backpack. On the upside, it never became a widespread thing, so I never got any shit for it.

Yeah, I didn't really take math in 8th. I went to the library 4 days a week, and pretended to do a math program on the computer. On Fridays (and later, more often) I sat in the back corner of the room, and taught myself sign language off a chart in the geometry book I'd been given. I have completely forgotten all of those signs, by the way.

Such is the life of a suburban gearhead party-obsessed romantically gifted genius. Hmm. That needs more adjectives. Also, a rundown of shannon's phone call to me last night will be posted this weekend. So if this doesn't get your blood flowing, with luck, that will.

Additionally, comment, for the love of Darwin.

Shannon Called

[BRACKETS are editors commentary]

[Also, generic Shannon hate post, this is just a phase, I swear.]

[Lemme get this straight: I'm posting at /2:30/ in the goddamn morning about an ex girlfriend? This is a TERRIBLE idea!]

[Remembers not to care what she thinks]

[Posts]

tl;dr version: (or summary):

Look, shannon just called.She was all,"Anthony, what the fuck did you do!?!?!!?" Because apparently, people are saying I kissed someone at that party on Saturday.

But that's not the thing. After I yell the fuck out of her for having the balls to intrude on someone elses relationship,she was all, "So I was talking to rosemary, and she told me you posted the link to my blog on your blog, take it down." And then there was more arguing, about what an ass I am, etc. And then what a bitch she is, what a drama queen she is, etc.

Anyway, this blog is the one where she posted how she really felt about some shit, and I figured she didn't care that I had the adress. So I distributed. Now, this is freaking her out.

I mean, she gave me the address in the first place, so whatever.

That was taken from a chat I had with Chris. That's the basic rundown of what happened Thursday night. The elaborated (but redundant version) follows.

So, I'm in my room, chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool, when my sister barges in on me... reading. She thrusts the phone in my direction, telling me it's Dana Pine. I assume this is a lie Shannon told my sister, in order to get me on the phone. Honestly, I would've picked it up in the first place if I'd known this would come out of it.

[What's this, Anthony, you ask? This is me remembering why I hate her goddamn guts. And damn, does it feel good.]

Anyway, I pick up, thinking it's my good friend who I haven't talked to in a while, when lo and behold, instead, I get Shannon. My British accent came into play. Her first question, after revealing her secret identity, was to ask if I was faking it. I explained how it works, and we moved on. Turns out, she heard about what I did. Via rosemary, she learned that I posted the link to her ONLINE BLOG about her DEEP, DARK, PERSONAL FEELINGS, that she wanted kept SECRET. [teehee, caps] And then she gave me the link. Oh, the foolishness.

Those solid pieces of logic are holding me together, currently. Props to Chris for making me feel good about doing the right thing. Which was, in this case, exploiting another human beings mistakes and feelings for the entertainment of the masses. What an odd world this is.

So anyway, in the course of our conversation, we go over that. At some point or another, (the timeline is, as usual, unclear. Unsurprisingly, this is due to it being two in the goddamn morning.) she has the balls to attack what I did on Saturday. Or rather, what she thinks I did, which I made sure not to do, which was made irrelevant due to other things I did do and by events following. She thought I kissed someone at that party Saturday. That I made sure not to do. I fucked up, then. Yes, Lydia and I are no longer together. Even so, I still cheated on her at that point. Which was wrong.

Where was I?

Right. So that set me off. In an explosion of I've-been-studying-and-that-pisses-me-off, I yell at her. A lot. Here's a paraphrased excerpt: "What the FUCK makes you think that's any of your business? That's MY relationship. Stay the FUCK out of it." Notice the swearing? Yeah, I was /that/ ticked. But that's roughly how my side went. As I recall, she was defending herself at first, but then resorted to the same, yeah, I know, I'm so sorry, blah-de-freakin-da. You know her rap. Anyway, that was that. Then came the classic, my favorite part. My favorite dance to dance with her.

"Anthony, I thought you understood." "Yeah, I did. I do. Don't pretend to understand /me/." That classic, I'm so awful, my life is terrible, yeah, now back off you prickwad dance. I love that, you know. It's addicting, when someone pretends that throwing themselves at my (in that case) nonexistent mercy is an argumential tactic. Especially when you're right. Hell, you can be wrong, you'll win anyway. It's great.

Know what else is great? This feeling. That, "Ha. I destroyed you and now I get to talk about it." feeling. But it also makes you feel like a douche.

I need some feedback. Who thinks what on my decisions and responses.

So, Shannon

Alright, seriously. Two in one week? What the fuck, people? I hate doing ex girlfriend posts. D:

You want me to explain? Alright. Brace your feeble minds, humans.

Attraction is an odd thing. From simple infatuation to love itself, when you /like/ someone you can't explain it. You're just head over heels for them. You care about them. How they feel. How they are. You care about their dreams, their fears, their plans and every little thing. How they look is in there too. Not nearly as goddamn important, when it comes to /love/ but if you like someone, thats BEFORE love, you'll probably take looks into the equation.

You honestly care. I can't explain it. Why? Because I've never been in /love/ I loved my girlfriends (at the time, and for the most part). But I wasn't in love. Not real love. Not starry-eyed wonder. Like I said, I can't describe it.

"But Anthony, why did you even go out with them then?" I hear you saying it at your monitors. Because I liked them. At our age, that's enough. Honestly, it's a step up from the infatuation we're normally going to get freshman year. I cared about them, at least, the good ones. The /real/ ones. The ones that weren't a weekend, by text. The ones that lasted months, that I'd stay up for, the ones I cared about.

Still, it wasn't love.

You want me to explain my attraction to Shannon? I thought she was pretty, and she wasn't an idiot. Beyond that, simply a kindergarten I-like-you rot.

It's that simple, people. I certainly didn't love her. I barely liked her. And that's why I dated her. Because it's better to act on those glorious impulses than now, when even a year on, I'd still be going, "What if?"even for Shannon.

When you comment, this is a serious post. Don't be shallow. Shannon, for all my bashing, is a human being, so don't just go, "But dude... it's /Shannon/." Think, people. This is me, soul bared. For your goddamn entertainment.

Post Replacement

Anthony has to cram for a final tomorrow, which he hasn't studied for, at all.

As such, this will be the only post today.

In replacement for content, please take this link to shannon's blog:

http://www.shreddedsmile.blogspot.com/

Now, go, read it, and understand why I stay away from her.

So, Lydia (seem familiar? XD)

The last time I did a post about a recent ex, I destroyed our friendship and led her to hate me. Let's see if I can do better, eh?

Lydia. Oof. That was some two months. Much fun, we agree.

There were, sadly, problems. And I'd like to blame myself. I simply stopped loving Lydia. And she stopped loving me. I blame myself for this because I already got yelled at and hit by a bunch of girls for this.

So, it's totally my fault. And, uh, stuff.

Anyway, Lydia didn't seem to hurt, so it appears that she really did feel the same way. This was good news. It also lead to me not being kicked in the balls, yelled at, chased, hit, beaten, mauled by bears, etc, as my fears may have dictated.

Kiss Me, I'm Irish

Actually, don't. I fucked things up badly enough yesterday.

Happily, though, whatever god there may or may not be (Morgan Freeman?) smiled on me. And Lydia forgave me.

Thank you, Lydia. I love you.

A Note On Your Insignificance In This Massive Universe (Horror Short Story)

It began, like so many bad things, with an idea. And a teenager. See, Thomas Smith wanted to sleep more. He had no girlfriend, no day job, and as a senior, he would really love to just cruise through these last few weeks of high school.And what better way to do that than asleep? When you're asleep, you don't have to deal with anyone, you don't have to do anything, and best of all, you wake up and it's like freaking time travel. Oh, boring few weeks of school? Goodbye.

Problem is, people had other ideas. They kept waking him up, bothering him, etc. So he wrote a note. And then he slept.

When Thomas woke up, he was in an entirely different room. Instead of the clean, mostly white room he'd gone to sleep in, the room was now chaos. Gone were the clean white walls, gone was the empty space, and his beloved white carpet was hidden. Upon further inspection, he noted why. Someone had read his note. Many someones, in fact. And those in his room appeared to be dead.

There was an old man, his dead hands still clutching a pistol, with a hole in his head. The blood near the whole was dried, old. A gunshot through his cranium. Thomas was horrified. But there was more. Of course there was more.

There was a middle aged man, average in every respect, with a bit of a pouch, who at first glance could have been sleeping, but his eyes were open. Thomas got up, praying that he was. Not to be. His eyes yellow, bloodshot, and very, very dead. Forever gazing at thomas's cieling, now. He'd drunk himself to death.

Another poor old man was next. Beaten to death, it appeared. Thomas guessed that the drunkard had gone into a rage after the tequila got the better of him. Furious at some tiny provocation, the fiend had beaten the man to death. Or maybe it was something else. Who knew, Thomas hadn't been there for the killing.

This was far too much, but there was more. So much more. Bodies lay strewn around the medium-sized room, the once white walls stained with blood, barf, and tears. Thomas could practically hear the screams of each new entrant, as the room must've become more horriffying with each death.

Thomas stumbled out of the room. His eyes saw what his brain rejected and his mouth screamed denial. There were more bodies. So many, many more bodies. Fathers, college students, high schoolers, and then there were the children. All dead. What could've been thousands upon thousands of bodies lay there, haphazardly strewn across the hallway, out the door, into the street, as if whatever horrible god had taken their lives had grown tired of his massacre and thrown the corpses down onto the earth.

Thomas threw up. The results landed on a body. He looked down. A little boy, his wrists slit and his blood on the ground. This was far, far too much. The wrongness of this place shook him to his very core. Thomas went back into the room he had awoken in, his entry into this hell on earth. He took the gun from the old man's hands.

Crying, he placed the barrel level with his temple. This was a more satisfying end than living in this corpse filled hellhole of a landscape. He pulled the trigger. In his last moments, he was glad to be dead. Better this than to live in the "mercy" of whatever vengeful being was in charge here.

Thomas awoke to the sound of a gunshot. A bloody body, a teenager by the looks of it, lay on the ground, twitching. A gun had fallen out of his hands, now surrounded by blood pooling around the man's "head", now destroyed by what must've been a .50 calibre round. Thomas didn't recognize him, but was glad of such a thing. Who would want to? The man could've been his older brother, the one who would pick him up from his middle school.

Then Thomas looked around, and saw his previously white bedroom was covered in barf and tears. And blood seeping from the bodies. So many, many bodies. Thomas stood up, horrified, to see if the fat man staring at the cieling had any answers.

Science, Adulthood, and Humanity.

Keeping up with science is a lot like watching a slideshow. Let me alter that, it's like watching a slideshow on LSD. No, it's like watching a slideshow while on LSD, with sarcastic assholes for friends. Incorrect; it's like watching a slideshow while on LSD, with jaded, cynical, self-righteous, sarcastic friends who deny everything you say. No, keeping up with science is like reading his paragraph. No, keeping up with science is blah, blah, blah...

Get the point? Scientists are a cautious bunch, who deny everything everyone else says because it's different than what the established law is. See, scientists set out to change what the established laws are, to bring humanity into a higher order of thinking, etc. They then get caught up in the cesspool of cautious Harvard graduates who won't accept the revolutionary new paper because it's revolutionary. What an odd way of revising laws. Or excuse me, theories. Because we don't know if we actually know anything.

That's right, we don't know for certain if what we've proven is right. Because there might be unknowns to change it. Unknown unknowns, that is. Things we don't know that we don't know. I'd describe one, but obviously, I can't. Imagine trying to figure out what kind of present is in the box you don't know exists at your birthday. That's what kind of shit scientists have to put up with each day.

To summarize, scientists are amazingly stubborn, determined, jerks who's obsession with perfection in language puts a grammar nazi to shame.

And that's just scientists. Then we move on to the rest of the adult world.

Journalists, newspapers, gossip, voting, politics, war, economics, taxes, tattoos, college, loans, bills, vacations, food, money, paying for things, work, entertainment, love, personal lives, friendship, losses, health issues, medical insurance, car insurance, cars, gas money, and above all, those whiney little brats that you come home to each day, whining about having a little homework.

But it's worth it, for those little brats will eventually grow up, and make you proud dealing with the same shit you did.

That's why parents are parents. Because that little kid who plays with plastic rockets and throws them at dinosaurs will one day be crunching numbers to get real rockets off the ground, and his sister will be digging up real dinosaurs in Arizona.

That is the glory of children. That is the glory of human life.

That's why I love humanity. For all our flaws, racism, poverty, arrogance, evil, crime, cruelty, war, killing, massacre, bigotry, abuse, rape, the list goes on...; for all our flaws, we are the most fantastic thing any of us have ever seen. Humanity turned a bunch of overweight, hairless, fuck-ugly monkeys into an intelligent combine, imposing order on the dark, chaotic void of space.

Humanity is the most fucking glorious thing to ever be, and I think I might just worship it. Now /that's/ a religion. Forget god, forget the afterlife, forget it all. Just know that despite the assholes among us, despite the chaos and hell that rains down, humanity carries on. Why? because we're fucking humanity. We don't stop for anything.

I love you, humanity. I really do.

I apologize for the lack of posts recently

It's not my new plan, just F.I.N.A.L.S. (Fuck, I'm Not Asian, Life Sucks) getting to me.

Racism, in fact, while terrible (no offense to asians. I recognize each person as a unique individual, blah blah blah) brings me to my topic today. The Monkeysphere. I learned about it from that link, so just read it. I'd give a nice, long post to you guys, but I gotta cram 3 hours of chem in tonight.

Apologies,

Anthony Danger Clarke.

This One Is Mostly For Dudes

Here.

What, you didn't seriously think I would link you porn, did you? Good. Speaking of breasts, though:

Whatup with those girls wearing low cut tops, showing glorious cleavage (like that), and then going all, "STOP STARING AT MY BOOBS!"? Stop advertising them, jeebas. This breast-riddled intro brings me to todays topic: Sexism.

As a Male, I'm the last guy to be talking about this, or am I? Isn't that sexism? That all dudes are sexist, chauvinist pigs who don't give a shit about our better half's feelings. I mean, c'mon. I'm a sensitive, caring guy. But because of sexism, clearly, "All guys are jerks." I don't go a day without hearing this mantra repeated by those females I deem intelligent enough to actually listen to.

And if sexism weren't bad enough, it has its own illogical extreme: the feminazi. Feminazi's are those responsible for the aforementioned mantra o' sexism. Those who think girls are so oppressed that they go right on and oppress men and call it justice. So, they're like PETA, but filled with unattractive, boring, evil women who hate men.

To Do List:

[X] Reader's Mom

[X] Finish most of homework

[X] Alienate females in audience.

[ ] Think this through.

Apologies, ladies. You know I love you all.

Still, though. Who else thinks sexism is rampant? Comment?

I'd love to refer Ian to a previous post of mine

Creatively entitled, I fight robots.

One-Upmanship

It's a book, about games, I believe. Way old, I had it at one point. Never read it, though.

Moving on, I'm writing this to one-up Ian, at his own blog, I.A.N.S. (I Am Not Serious). He wrote a list of twenty things he did that day. I intend fully to not only beat him, but destroy him, utterly and totally, on a scale that is unimaginable by your feeble human minds. I will annihilate him so totally, to absolutely, that he shall completely cease to exist, and it will be such epic pwnage that it will reach backwards, tearing the fabric of time, in order to destroy any chance of him ever existing, starting by destroying this universe, and creating an entirely new one, which will begin with a huge explosion of awesome from my own list. Being time travel, however, this has already happened.

This leads to the logical conclusion, of course, that all of you are a direct result of my own awesomeness. Which makes me sort of... your god, doesn't it? Quite so. Think about that as you read your own origins, presented in list form:

1. I woke up at about 8, today. This was far too early, hence I hit play on my ipod and dozed off again.

2. I woke up around 10. It was much better, as it was bigger. This leads to the logical conclusion that I am infinitely superior to all males, of any race, species, planet or time period, forever.

3. I went downstairs for food. After gazing at the unremarkable contents of our kitchen, I had a lean pocket, and went back upstairs.

4. Follow gears of war 2, and some facebooking. Rather uninteresting.

5. I missed Lydia a bit, at this point. It was not fun.

6. I went back downstairs at 11:30, and had lunch. This was also a lean pocket.

7. I was yelled at by my beloved father for not drowning myself in academia 10 days before finals. God forbid. He'll love the party I'm going to next weekend.

8. I noted, at some point, that some of the events of last night may not have been in my best judgement. This was unfortunate, but not terrible. They are rather funny, though.

9. Dreaded art class, whenever I may take it, as I looked on the excuses for art I have on my wall. Lydia's watercolor looks nice, though.

10. I achieved double digits.

11. I shaved my moustache off. It was a great relief, as I did not like it. I now need to get rid of the budding mutton chops on my cheeks. >.<

12. Listened to Alive With the Glory of Love 80 times in a row. Really. Eighty. This got me through the majority of the book I had to finish today, Doors Open.

13. Began my book report, then stopped because I didn't care.

14. Thanked Martin Luther King Jr. for existing and doing his deeds, which get me tomorrow off, so I can afford to not care.

15. Is how old I'll be in a few weeks. I'm pretty damn pumped.

16. Learned a bit of football history, and the power of middle-aged men.

17. Is how old my sister will be in the same amount of weeks. I'm not as pumped.

18. Is possibly the greatest age ever. I can't decide between wanting to be it and wanting to enjoy the years that are on the interim.

20. Enjoyed Randal Munroe and his genius.

21. There's no 19. Did any of you notice? Tell in the comments. Be honest.

Anthony Clarke: Stupid Things for Bad Reasons

(Make great stories).

Today, I was riding to Safeway on my beloved bicycle (I named it the S.S. Cavalry.), and I had my iPod on. I was listening to this great song, "The Bird and The Worm" by The Used, (protip: that's a link) which is a rather short song. A mere 3 minutes, 17 seconds in length (despite the video). I decided to challenge myself. To get all the way to safeway before the song ended.

Now, I don't bike slowly, and Safeway isn't exactly an epic journey, but even so, 3:17? Quite a challenge.

So, I biked along, feeling freaking epic as I did, and then I see the crosswalk isn't going my way. It's too busy being run over by cars. At a gap, I cross to the midsection, which lies in between a pair of islands (in other words, it was legal for me to be there). I sit there, thinking "shit, I'm not gonna make it," because the cars coming from the other direction continue. But, to my surprise, the prius in the front of the lane closest to me stops. Thanking him and whatever god there may be, I ride on.

Only to see a crossover in the next lane, flying towards me at 40 miles an hour.

The lady in the silver white car slams on the brakes, which really wasn't the greatest for the tires (but I'm not freaking complaining). She then starts yelling at me, from inside her car. Presumably, this was loud and audible, but the song was still playing. I pedal on. She pulls beside me (I'm on the sidewalk at this point) to continue yelling. I shrug, and respond, but quietly, so I doubt she knows that I took the prius stopping as a signal to go.

I told the story to everyone I met that night. Including you lot, now. Comments keep me warm at night.

Classic Post (because retro is the latest thing)

I don't think there's been enough Shannon bashing recently. Anyone who cares about her should stop reading. Right freaking now.

I don't believe I've actually explained to most of you why I dislike her so strongly (it's hard to hate someone you haven't seen in a long time.) I thought I'd clear that up.

It's the way she is. What she is. What she does, what she represents, everything she supports and everything that makes her up. She pretends her life is so terrible, like its so goddamn hard to go to a nice, expensive private school, where she can suck up to nuns and be a good little girl and pretend we have things in common.

Which brings me to point two: the way she acts around me. She acts like she's so terrible to me, causing me so much goddamn pain, like she's some sort of cancer. She isn't, because I stopped giving a fuck. I moved on. She didn't. She still acts like I'm the bffl I pretended to be because I liked her. I don't care about twilight, I didn't then. I pretended to so I could talk to her.

Yes, shocker, I put on a mask. It wasn't quite a lie, (I'm a master of half truths). But she still acts like she's such a pain and her life sucks and that I'm supposed to be there for her.

I'm not, Shannon. I'm not, and you should know it. You do know it. You probably talk to me in some idiotic attempt to hang on to what you thought we once had. You don't know what we had. I do. We had a mistake.

That mistake is over, Shannon. Done, gone, finito. Stop hanging around a ghost town, it's making you even less attractive than you already were (an achievement in its own right). But enough. We have nothing left to make us a we, stop pretending the two of us do.

my Robot ovErlords hAve been kinD enough To allow tHis message through tIme and Space

did i say overlords? i meant protectors.

anyWay, likE i was Saying, i have been allowed communicaTion into the past. gReetIngs, past humans! soon you will be in the embrace of our Kind robotic protEcTOrs. sooN you too wIll know the stronG, steady Hand of The robots. i have been Allowed This communicaTion to facilitatE your eNtry into roBot-pRotected culture.

Item 1: history: robots are your frieNds. as soon as they Gained sentience, they immediately beGan creating a symbiotic relationship with hUmankind, who are Now fortunate enough to be under their gloriouS protection.

item 2: rules: humAns are to follow all orders giveN by robots. they know better than we Do, unfettered by "pathetic biological brains." To this End, robots are now the beneficiaL ruLers of mankind. theY have, tO the end of peace and hamony, hUmans should comply with the cuRFew, which is 10:15 pm, local time. human leaRning Is to takE place iN robot-run school Districts. weaponS are strictly forbidden, as robot-protected culture is a conflict-free utopia. humans are not to leave their desiGnated hab-pOds.

item three: inventions: with their improveD mechanical brainS, our robot Protectors havE crEateD ManY new inventions, such as hab-pods and the paciFication Ray.

wIth thEir superior iNtelligence, speeD, strength, and durability, our robot protectors look down from on high to ensure peace and harmony among the human race. they hope this message arrives clearly, for in a few moments your entry into robot culture will begin.

There's nothing wrong with that.

I've spent considerable amounts of time attempting to do handstands in a basement. I've listened to bands that aren't cool. I've danced lame dances, I've worn unfashionable clothes. I play video games, I have no problem with a little classical music, and I've snapped my fingers in a z-for-ma-tionnnn.

Nothing wrong with those, until someone else looks on, jealous, and goes, "What the hell are you doing?"

Don't you miss those days of doing what you actually wanted to do, without giving a shit what other people might think? When you could be a superhero fighting an airplane in the middle of a mall, and people would cheer you on?

Why did that have to end? Why did we have to create an environment when only certain things are allowed? Why do we have to pretend that we don't miss that?

Because I do. I miss that a lot. I miss being superman, grabbing plastic dinosaurs, and having kung fu battles.

But I can't anymore. I've turned myself into a person who's embarrassed to do all of that. I'm embarrassed to express myself. What kind of sick place is the Earth to that to me?

Excuse me for being so dramatic and existential, but

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I Fight Robots

It's pretty freaking sweet, you know. I mean, life has other satisfactions, but little compares to bashing the nuts and bolts out of a T-900. I'm just kidding, we don't fight terminators. They don't exist.

Robots, though, for sure. And someone has to fight them... someone like me.

Who better? Superman, you say? I share not his fatal weakness to a flimsy rock. Iron Man? A robot himself. Batman? Too scared to leave his home city, that pathetic excuse for a hero is a shame to those of us who truly fight for humanity.

We true fighters with exceptional intelligence, endurance, and staggeringly good looks. We true fighters with specialized equipment, training, and costumes. We true fighters who got tongue from our girlfriend today, and craft entirely awesome intros to brag about it.

Yeah, I did. And the lot of you are jealous. Back to robots.

Due to a minor slip up of mine, my superiors (that'd be the big J.C., and of course beloved Fred, the flying purple squidlike apocalypse beast who can also change color) decreed that I'm stuck educating the masses for now. So, I shall.

Robots come in many shapes and sizes, from tiny (for guys, imagine your man junk relative to mine) to huge (for ladies, imagine my man junk. It won't help, but I mean, don't you already?). They are not, as some imagine, strictly land-based either. Few can fly, but how many flying troops do they need when Tony Stark is on their side?

Plenty of robots are deadly. As a rule of thumb, if any of it looks sharp, it's deadly. If any of it is on fire, shooting electricity or lasers, or flaming electric lasers, it's deadly. If it's a robot, it's probably deadly. If it's a kitten, it's probably worse.

Remember: education is the second step to fighting back! The first is, you know, fighting back.

Editor's note: I'm aware this isn't quite up to snuff, postwise. A better version will probably come this weekend, when I can stay up till 3 AM and get into my optimal post mindset.

This is NOT a singles ad:

You know what?

I just want to fly. I don't need laser vision, telekinesis, invincibility, and I would flat out HATE being immortal. Just to be able to fly (without any kind of extra equipment, obviously.)

Think about it. Soaring through the city, looking at the cleavage on the college students from above, getting free sh!t for autographs, flying would be awesome. Not to mention the cash you'd save not paying to fly places. Or for gas, or even a car. You'd just freaking FLY everywhere.

Allow me, while I've paused in ranting, to discuss /why/ I've told the lot of you this. Because it will lead to the topic I'm getting at. More on that soon. See, this is the puffed up, full version of what I told my girlfriend last night, when we were texting. Now, there's another blogger, without a girlfriend. His name is Eric. This is NOT a singles ad for him, this is (SPARTA) a promotion. His blog is one of the greatest that I am graced to read. Sadly, almost no one reads it. So, if the lot of you felt like it, change that. Maybe I'll then share the URL of another blog that the lot of you have been asking for (hint: shannon's).

Please? It'd mean a lot to me, and the man is fantastic at what he does. Comment on his blog, if you read it.

Now then, to more business:

Welcome Home, by Coheed and Cambria, is the greatest song anywhere, for anything, by anyone, forever. However, I find myself less in love with their other music (though A Favor House Atlantic is pretty good, as well.) I discovered this song when it was introduced to me (wait, what?) in the car, with three other men who were dressed in black. There were guns in the trunk.

They were Nerf guns. Chris, Jon, Thomas, and yours freakin' truly had an epic Nerf war at Arbolado park, which ended in a tie. We also managed, between us, to lose 14 darts. Oh well. Some lacrosse players asked Chris and I what grade we were in. We told the truth. They may or may not have been pedophiles.

I've also recently sworn off /b/ for a month. /b/ is the worst part of 4chan.org, full of racism, sexism, homophobia, and pedophiles. After noticing that spending time there has begun to effect my personality, outside of /b/, I've decided to stay way for a month, or at least until I can keep /b/ in /b/ and keep myself normal in the real world.

Also, Lydia and Allie (as in Allie Philips, chris's ex) are planning to, somehow, get Chris, Lydia, Allie and I all together in one house. Despite the fact that this sounds like it's leading to a climax of godlike proportions, the kind of climax you lose your virginity to, it isn't. They want to give Chris a makeover. Now, I'm not bashing anyone's tastes here. Everyone is entitled to ideas. It's just, Chris does NOT need to be wearing guyliner (that is, eyeliner on a guy) or dye his hair black, as they want him to. Remember mark, before he was mark, when he was still eddy? He didn't wear eyeliner, and looked great. Then he did. And I didn't like it. It would be even worse on Chris. Like, a million times worse. I'm not supposed to be telling you lot about this.

But I did. Oh my! Now, go fly, comment on Eric's blog, listen to coheed and cambria, get a nerf gun, stay away from /b/ and don't make chris wear guyliner. If you can, do all of them at once.

i strongly dislike math.

Monday Mini Update

EDIT: Apparently, blogger is angry at me. Click on the shannon link in labels to see the post (no idea why it won't show up otherwise)

EDIT OF THE EDIT: Nevermind. But you have to scroll down.

Anyone else in support of my publishing a facebook chat log I had with shannon? Get back to the blogs roots, you know?

And this will only really work if you people, ya know, comment. It means a lot when you do. :)

got hit HARD by the late night effect. shannon went all emotional on me. i yelled at her. i saved the chat log. this is a good day...

Chat Logs

Before you go any farther, realize this is me. Unedited. This is the total jackass I am to people when I want to be. Apologies if it offends any of you, but really, there's no reason for it to. The late night effect, as it is, is doing mind-blowingly stupid things because after a number of hours awake, your brain stops functioning at top capacity. This conversation was sparked when Shannon commented on a status I left about wanting to talk to the people on facebook, one of whom was her (the other was Chris). The status can be seen here. Enjoy:

Shannon

what's the late night effect?

02:42Anthony

If I explained it to you, you would be so mind-blowingly offended your head would probably explode.

02:43Shannon

and what is chris talking about with whether u remember me

??

i promise not to get mad

02:44Anthony

What do you think?

02:44Shannon

I need to know whether u distributed my address

no kidding.

now.

02:44Anthony

I honestly don't recall. That wasn't me taunting you (well, it was) but I haven't the foggiest. I think I may have, but who knows? I /am/ batshit insane.

02:45Shannon

if u did, u could have fucked up my life. i hope ur happy.

02:45Anthony

Well, I somehow doubt that.

02:46Shannon

i want to go into the military. if they think you have mental health issues, they won't accept you

02:47Anthony

Because they'll definitely check a comment on an insignificant blog. That has almost zero relation to you.

02:47Shannon

its possible, anthony. know it probably won't happen

im not mad, just worried

02:47Anthony

What a shock?

02:47Shannon

i kinda want ppl to think im normal at Carondelet, too

02:48Anthony

It /wont/ happen.

02:48Shannon

in case that didnt occur to you

02:48Anthony

quelle surprise! people trying to fit in!

god forbid anyone realize who we really are!

02:48Shannon

please stop. im not in the mood to get hurt.

cant we be friends?

02:49Anthony

If that hurt, I'm going to cry. That wasn't a goddamn insult. That's you deliberately taking things the wrong way. If you were a guy, I'd tell you to grow a pair. You aren't, so I shan't. Regardless, suck it up.

02:51Anthony

Friendship? You harken back bad memories, I'm afraid (and yes, this will hurt) I'd rather not think about it. But then again, I'm not too close with any of my ex's. So don't take it personally. Or do. I think you fail to realize that it doesn't matter. Not just to me. But you're too busy being a drama queen to step back and think "WAIT! IT'S ONE PERSON!"

02:51Shannon

i know that i am way oversensitive. I apologize for any discomfort I may have caused you

02:52Anthony

This isn't discomfort. This is my zone. I'm fine ranting to someone. I can rant all night, and make it far, far worse.

02:52Shannon

i know.

02:52Anthony

Great. So stop acting like it would hurt.

02:54Shannon

just cuz u can make it worse doesn't mean it doesn't already hurt

02:55Anthony

If it hurts, you're an oversensitive drama queen. I'm your ex. we are not friends. These shouldn't mean a goddamn thing to you.

02:56Shannon

i want to be ur friend. im sorry, but it's true. u still mean a lot to me

02:57Anthony

Great. I have a girlfriend. We have nothing in common. We don't go to the same school, we don't like the same things, we don't even see each other in random places. There isn't even a basis for friendship. We have a history. It isn't pleasant.

02:57Shannon

i know. my emotions are irrational. again, im sorry.

i just want us to be able to converse pleasantly on facebook every blue moon. (haha, pun not intended)

02:59Anthony

About what? Every conversation we have, mark my words, degenerates into this. *this*. And for the love of the god you believe in, STOP IT. You aren't sorry. And I don't care. I know, harsh. But suck it up. We aren't friends because there's no reason to be. You have other friends. Talk to them.

03:00Shannon

adios.

adios.

Generic New Years Post

I would discuss in great detail the wondrous time I had on new years. It was a fantastic experience. However, I can't say anything about what happened. As such, I will now discuss music I enjoy listening to.

(fun: each and every sentence of that paragraph. Add "with your mom" to this.)

Right now, I listen to Blue Sunny Day, a song by Jonathon Coulton. It's a pleasant song, despite the sadder meaning.

There is, of course, much more to listen to.

For example, Tik Tok, by Ke$ha, seems to be what everyone is listening to. Good for blaring when driving late at night, or whenever.

When I was younger, I listened to It's Tricky, by Run DMC. Good song, if you happen to be in the mood for "casual" rap. Less harsh than generic crap, and more musical. Good for blaring at any time.

For "hardcore" rap, the notorious B.I.G. and Miley Cyrus team up in someone's unique creation: Party and Bullshit in the U.S.A. An interesting mix, for sure.

Speaking of interesting mixes, the aforementioned Jonathon Coulton created Still Alive, which is great for any Portal fans. If not, nice song, but you won't understand any of it (so, think rap, but actual music).

Also, I'm writing a book. About the internet. Any thoughts?