High S-not-chool

I really need a multimedia update, something really cool. I wish I had time and patience to learn how to make (and to make) a flash cartoon or something. I'd better not even tempt myself, because I already don't use my time wisely.

I've bitten my lip no less than twice today, in the same place. Wow... it hurts. I absolutely hate biting my lip!!! It feels like a little man has dug into it with a shovel. Ugh... In fact, it's bothering me so much, I think I'll go do something about it, if I can. It's not like there's a whole lot you can do about it.

I thought about the army

I dropped out and joined a band instead. Has it ever occurred to you that you haven't done push-ups in over a year and a half?? Holy crap, Brad. No wonder my calves wiggle and jiggle. I'm too lazy/busy, but I need to make room for exercises...

Which reminds me of a strange thought I had once. What our stomachs were contained in our arms rather than the abdomen? You'd eat a huge feast then stand up and pat your arms, saying, "I'm fit to burst!" They would make the Elbow-Roller and Chuck Norris would be seen doing commercials for fifteen different versions of the same arm exercise machine. People would start piercing their arms and principals would get mad. Some would try to pat their head and rub their arms. The Worm would be virtually impossible. We would have a belly button on each arm. Also, everyone would have these beefy arms sticking out of their torso(s). Haha...that's all just too funny to imagine...

jse58e8k585e85e

My sandals are starting to stink...really. All that dried, rotten grass, mud water mixed with foot sweat, all coming to one awful stench. I've got to find a way to make it smell, er, less, or even better.

You can't just grow a mullet...

...you have to earn a mullet. It's my belief that mullets have intrinsic and extrinsic (ambitrinsic) value of their own. I mean, if you have a mullet and a jumpsuit with grease on it, the two complement each other very well. But a mullet standalone... Well, come to think of it, mullets don't really have any value at all unless you're a Skynyrd fan, and even then, only you and your buds at the broken-down gas station would appreciate it the same. There's this game we have where six cubes are shuffled up. Each cube has a letter on each side. I claim that if it ever spells out the word "mullet" (in correct order!), I will never ever ever ever play any sort of game again. I am, of course, basing that on a firm hope that the game (Razzle) doesn't want to have a mullet on it. It came dangerously close once (misspelled by one (1) letter!).

Me? I almost missed the bus this morning because I had downloaded Oasis's Live & Unplugged album, which is extremely good, and wasn't paying attention to the outside world. I had heard it before, for the most part, but I wasn't really listening to it, I guess. The only thing that I don't like about it is that they got some extremely good harmonica player to play with them. Well, that's all great until you start turning a harmonica up way over everything else. It gets a little annoying, but I sure wish I could play a harmonica like that.

Whoops!

You slipped!

Sulfur and Bubble Gum

Hooray for working routers!! Now, my computer should be working temporarily permanently. This router that has proven as my computer's benefactor was found in the trunk of the car. Weird. So, my dad's computer no longer has to do the routing for my internet.

Vanilla wafers: deceptively normal and boring. What could be better than VWs and peanut butter when all you have time for is VWs and peanut butter? Nothing, I tell you!!! Listen to me, and listen to me now. They're good. My dad is obsessed with anything vanilla, although he can't say it right. He say's "vinella." So, Dad is always getting vinella ice cream, wafers, extract, milkshakes, baseball cards, cakes, and Vin Ella, the Danish equivalent of Fleetwood Mac.

ummm....am i gonna have to make it where only registered blogger users may post comments? what's going on here...

Itinerant Pulsar

My computer had a relapse of its problem, and I haven't been able to fix it this time. It's an SP2 conflict... but no worries. What fun would life be without a computer problem to fix?! Ow, Grendel bites my toe hairs.

I just ate the toy from the cereal box!

Actually, I just fixed my computer's network capability. It's a good thing, too. I thought I was going to die from....lack of bloggage?? You might call it writer's block (or cube), but I call it a Pecan Delight wrapper.

I desperately need a campout, but I'm not gonna get one. Campouts, oh, campouts! How I long to be with thee! So much for my apostraphe. Where I really really want to be for anything is Bristol, Florida. I miss the place where I have absolutely zero (0) worries (except for when I break something of G=Ma's). I want to be there and just sit around or walk around the small corner of the small town without shoes and take shortcuts through the woods to cousins' houses. I want to climb the steep hill of sand at White Springs, and I want to be scared of the old buildings there. I want to go to the Stump Pond, planning to fish, but instead turning around (there aren't any in there anyhow). I want to help Grandpa build something. It's an important rite of passage when a young Gentry cousin is allowed in the workshop. The young aren't allowed because it's easy to get one's fingers chopped off. In fact, Grandma is likely to cut the child's fingers off herself if she see's someone go in there. Okay, not really. She's relaxed on that rule.

Are these dreams possible?? YES!!! There are plans set for a Thanksgiving trip this year (just like last year) and it's likely that, if we go, I'll come back twenty pounds heavier and with a renewed Southern accent. I need one of those...

k@L@m@zoo

Argh... It seems that my network card has quit working within the past few hours. I'm on Dad's piece of junk now (rather than my own piece of junk).

Last night, I revisited a post from a few weeks earlier about getting a really high Yahoo! Launch rating. I have neglected it since school started, but I'd still like to finish the project eventually, with the help of anyone and everyone. We're almost halfway! Here's info from the old post:

Username: launchfreakout
Password (!): powerbar
Click here to sign in to Launch!!
launchfreakout wants you!!!

Basically, just sign in and rate everything possible. Just don't waste time rating things that have already been rated. A good way to rate a buncha stuff is by finding an artist and then clicking on "Similar Artists" and rating all of those mostly unknown artists. A really really good way to rate a lot of things in one sitting is by finding a jazz artist and looking at his or her discography and rating every single album. Oh, what fun.

The complexities of the International Dateline never end. The USSR has finally been rooted out of all of the world (Josef Island Thingys, what are you?), the L I V E S T R O N G bracelet has been fused to my wrist, and Bryan flew an airplane yesterday. What will they let us do next? Make waffles in the freezing depths of "The Stupid Upid Room?"



Dangit!! It's too late to be writing!

I tried balancing an egg, but I guess it was fat on one side, cause it didn't work.

Happy Autumn!

Cruddy link, short post, my work is done.

poo

I think my brother Bryan just killed one of our three kittens. He stepped on it and it is in awful pain, it seems. Mom and Dad are taking it to Dr. Truban's as I type. I don't think it'll make it.

Here's the story: Sometime after I got back home from GSE, I found that our family had taken in a stray cat. She is black all over with a white spot on the neck and green eyes. She's a typical cat (lazy, waits for food all day) and is perfectly content with being an outdoor cat. We open the door but she rarely comes inside. Milk Dud is this cat's name.

Milk Dud had kittens before I came home this summer. We knew she had kittens because she had been pregnant earlier and wasn't later. A week or two later, Milk Dud decided this was her home. One day, we spotted her coming to the door with something in her mouth: a black kitten. After a little, she left and got another kitten, also black. She left again and they decided that the next one she brought would be named Cinderblock. It happened that when the last kitten was brought, it was gray (like a cinderblock). Milk Dud didn't leave again, so three kittens (who didn't have mittens) were now residing on our front porch with their mother.

So, they grew. They've all grown a lot. The two black cats are pretty much the dumbest animals I've ever seen. They whine a lot and only think about food, and won't play with you at all. Cinderblock was very kind and generous and I played (fought) with her several times. That was fun. The black cats were always afraid too. I'd make a loud noise and they'd run. But Cinderblock and Milk Dud are a little smarter; they know that it's just us stupid silly humans making the noise. So, Cinderblock was a smarter-type cat.

Bryan came up a few minutes ago and said that he'd just stepped on Cinderblock and that he thought its leg was broken or something, but I'm sure he stepped on her head. She had her mouth stuck open, and eyes too, and her front paws were stretched out in front of her.

Ugh. I'm sick of it now... I guess I don't like it much, either, but Bryan is taking it pretty hard. He's going to be sulking around for the next week... Me? Just a cat. A cool cat, but still, just a cat. Things like this happen to pets. Mom told Bryan that she'd rather it like this than out in the road. I made the mistake of giving Bryan my real opinion that it would have been better off getting hit by a car (far less suffering!), but I regretted it right after, because Bryan didn't say anything. So, now we have three stupid cats left. I don't think Milk Dud paid much attention to the entire affair. She started eating. Three stupid cats!!!

Foo Fighters - "Generator"

I mowed the back yard, and still got in in time to keep up with the Carolina game! Go Heels!

It's kind of funny for me to be watching and listening to football, but a small bit of the fever struck me, as it always does when cool air comes in. Thanks to Ivan, I've had that opportunity to be in the preview of autumn. College football, all day long. Sometimes I don't even pay attention. It just feels right; am I right? Kind of makes you want to go throw footballs at a video camera.

I seem to have a preference for literature with a lot of dialogue. I just feel so bored when it's just the narrator.

I don't like shoes or socks.com

For those Tom Clancy fans out there...

Crazy Ivan!!!

What is a Crazy Ivan? Click here.

FLASH NEWS!!!

This was a few miles (less than 6, I'll bet) from my grandparents' and cousins' homes. !!!:-O!!!

Twisters

Your Mom Goes to College

I don't like typing a blog on other people's computers; it's the same feeling as somebody looking over your shoulder. So, I've been incredibly busy the last two days, and that's why I've missed my blogging experience. No details because they'll bore me. I actually had something good to write about, and now I cannot remember.... So I'll write about milk cartons.

The evolution: in elementary school, I remember that I wasn't good at opening the milk cartons. I could never get the hang of it. A lot of other people would just drink straight from the carton, but I always used the straw. I had frequent spillings of the lactose liquid (alliteration for Mrs. Goldwasser) and the cheap school paper towels were never good at cleaning it up. As a matter of fact, I'm bored of that and I'll talk about school paper towels.

They've never ever changed. They've always been those coarse yet undurable brown pieces of sand paper. They come in stacks that most likely end up as wads in the toilets of the boys' bathroom. You also see them on the floor around the trash cans, but never in the trash cans. You can't blow your nose with them (unless you want your nose ripped off) and you certainly can't use them to dry your hands unless you use half of the stack. These are also like the paper towels at any meetinghouse of my church. There aren't many uses for them. I used to use them in art class to add a shade to my collages. I'm bored with this too, so I'll write a little about art classes.

In elementary school, art was one of my favorite classes. We had the same art teacher the whole seven years: Ms. Moore. She lives close to me. I was never a good colorer, and she didn't like that. I couldn't stay in the lines. Ms. Moore always had about twenty thousand rolls of masking tape on her arms. Anyhow, I liked the class not for coloring, but for the chance to truly be creative. I never wasted a scrap; I kept every bit of spare paper we had. I remember learning how to make a paper swan (not a crane) and I still make them sometimes. Crap, now I miss BHT! The swingsets, the merry-go-round that's no longer there, the jungle jims they tore down, the long slide that was taken away for the building addition, the smell of asbestos in the morning... I should write down all of my elementary school memories. I have so many, where do I start!!! And there was this one time where I got up to 7 WPM in computer class. Yeah, I was the stuff.

You Can Take It With You

Another Monday, heading towards a Friday off (this F-day is a teacher workday). You know you pretty much live in a sorta redneck town when you see people using the internet at the library to go to that Hot or Not site. I like my little job. Of course the pay could be better, but I don't have to ask Mom and Dad for money for everything now. I'm starting to get homework under control, or trying to. I'm not doing it now because I'm bloggering. I wish I had more free time. I waste all of it "trying" to do my homework. Of course, during this time, I'm not really trying to do my homework. I'm trying to make myself even look at it. I come out of each day feeling like I'm tired from homework when I might spend an hour doing it. If I'd just learn how to concentrate, it'd be a lot easier. Ice cream.

Mopperz R Us

I was entirely unavailable for bloggage yesterday. I hope you don't mind if I list events I attended yesterday, as I can't think of anything interesting to write about.

First, I went to Saturday School. My excessive absences were repaid somewhat in there. I never want to go, but I always end up liking it far more than weekday school: no talking to anyone, I don't have to listen to a teacher (instead of doing my work), I can read as much as I want, etc. As a result, I get a lot more work done than I do in reg. school. Also, this early in the school year, there might be one or two other people there. If you are bored on a Saturday morning, I suggest coming down if you want to get some homework done or have some quiet time.

Next, I went and sang with the choir at my Uncle Bill's funeral. Well, great uncle. He was a really great guy whose suffering finally subsided. One of my role models, definitely. After that, I went down to Winston to see Napoleon Dynamite, which is only the funniest movie that you or your grandma has (or hasn't) seen. Unfortunately, a friend I was going to meet up with didn't know where the theater was. So by the time we got her straightened out, the movie was over 20 minutes in, so we just decided to skip it. I had seen it enough and the first parts are just too funny to miss and see the rest.

So, we went to a church dance next, where I got to meet up with an old GSE friend. That was extremely cool and stuff. I also remembered that Winston-Salem telephone numbers aren't long distance from Winston, so I called my brother during the dance. I came home from the dance and bought some ear plugs at Wal-Mart. Here I am today.

I'm trying to write an essay.

Step off!!!

My brutha Greg is a flippin idiot crazydoogle(?). Oh, the things we do for blog...

I don't really want to go and play at the game tonight. By all accounts, I have the worst school spirit ever. I just don't really care that much. I like to see a good game, that's pretty much it. If this game against East Surry goes how past games have gone, then it won't be a good game (for example: their team flattens ours, nobody ever had a chance). I could be wrong though; this could actually be a great game of classic high school football.

I still can't wait for autumn. I don't know where my fascination and love of the season all came from. I guess some of it could be childhood memories: building time machines out of junk in the back yard, leaves crunching every step. Or the pictures of me wearing that late 80s cool-weather attire. I also love the mountains. Mountains are way better than the beach for me. I just get a lot more out of it. I can never really figure out anything to do at the beach. But the mountains, well, I just am obsessed with them. When is the time that we or anyone goes to the mountains the most?? The fall! So, of course I'm going to like fall if it means mountains. I guess Halloween was a big contributor to my love of autumn. I've never been too big about marching competitions and games, so they really aren't a part of it. I've just realized that anytime where I long for marching season (this usually happens in the middle of winter) is just because I'm longing for autumn. I like the smell in that brisk air. I do like the leaves, I guess. I like Vince Guaraldi's "Autumn Leaves." Speaking of which, I like the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving movie. I like music with little trumpet solos in them like Ben Folds Five's "Don't Change Your Plans" and they remind me of fall. "One Last Time" is definitely a fall song written in the fall with a little brass background solo.

Holy saltines!! I forgot to mark the first anniversary of my writing of "One Last Time." It's a completely mellow song employing the use of 7th chords, mellophones, two capos, three-minute writing techniques, and a cheese sandwich. I like it, anyhow. The reason why I don't come out with song after song is because I must like something a lot before I'll say I did it (exception: English class). G the 2 G.

You know... That word that means you knew something once and now you don't?

Pun of the Day: "Rock and Robin" (comment on a fellow named Robin kicking a rock)

Coolest thing ever in its own way: The List
This guy is my brother's friend. He does a list of the top 100 people in his life. On the blog are predictions for the top 20. I don't know that I could ever do a top 100, but a top 20 sounds nice. It'd be hard for me to think of 20 people that I know...

The odds are in the front, stupid!

So, I just fixed the archives with the help of the folks at Blogger. Please, everyone give a big hand to one of the b3st tech service I've seen! It took a little while, but goodness, it's not like they're not getting an infinity of other service requests. Now, it's far too late for me to type any more.

A kangaroo??!

Happy 6th B-Day to Google, Blogger's host.

Coming up next: Trolley's Revenge on the Land of Make-Believe!!!!

Nevermind. My archive button has just returned and the archive page is back, though it's still lacking the newer posts. Oh well. Maybe they're working on it right now as I type. Even on labor day!! You've got to love the Blogger guys. /me claps, applauds, and looks for root beer.

It's in my stroller

Hmm.... it appears that the Blogger people have been working on my blog. I sent a message to support about my malfunctioning archives page. Well, now they've taken down my custom Archives button and my archives page is entirely non-existant. I don't like the archives being on the side of the blog. I liked the separate archive page idea, which is why I wanted to keep it. Whatever, just so long as they are once again made available.

ugh, not feeling well. We had a family get-together thing today and it's not that I ate too much. I just think I wasn't fit for eating anything today. The funny thing is that it was the "real" food that made me feel sick. Ice cream made me feel better. Yum...




It's best to not attempt power moves when you're a Nascar driver.

Foresight

When the AP exams of April have pierced
The studying of March, and pierced it to day 31,
And every vein is about to explode from stress
Whose quickening force will engender death;
And when the AP English teacher with her coffee breath
Has given evil tests in every minute of every day
To tender suffering children, and when the daily sun
Has run past and down the horizon in Mt. Airy,
And when small freshmen are going to sleep at 9:00,
He stays awake all night with drooping eyes,
(Homework so prompts him, and forces);
Then he longs to go on vacations
But senior trips to foreign shores,
And distant cool places are out of the question.
And most especially, when he falls asleep in his chair,
The nightmares of the Canterbury Tales come,
The poor and helpless boy they seek
To load him with homework and definitely make him sick.

Mixed Tapes and Masterpiece

I don't think that I know what's going on right now. I won't remember any of this tomorrow... That's what sleep deprivation does to you. It also dehydrates you, from what I've read

fjadnnn...adew2335-
==a\\z I've been awake for over 24 hours again :-(

Vivid Recollections

Haha! A 6 foot, skinny Joe Holder??! That, I've got to see... So school today was the worst day of my life, what d'you think?! Agh... too many ellipses... I just wish I could fly like a kite....(no I don't)

I think that all people with coins in their pockets should be very careful not to drop them out of their pockets. That happens to me all the time. If that's going to be the case, though, the government needs to build a huge nationwide conveyer belt that goes under seats and beds and along sidewalks and then back to D.C. There, the money will be processed and deducted from the national debt or taxes or something. That's even more stupid than my Conveyer Belt Road idea.

I'ma go to sleep, or maybe more homework. I'm dismally drowned...

i caught two fish tonight...or maybe it was the same one