Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

The dream started with me finding a snake in my room. My room was not this apartment nor my home in Ohio, but another apartment of my own. The snake was a red and yellow one, with black spots. He never tried to bite me, ever, but I still held him by the neck ‘n’ stuff. The snake would slither all over my room; I wouldn’t lock him up unless people were over.

One day, he went missing. I cried when I couldn’t find him, so I left my room too look elsewhere in the building for him.

Oh my, it’s the commune. Everything’s done up in a retro-futuristic style. I walk to a room with red, oddly designed chairs. They looked modern-artish. I hate modern art :\ Read the rest of this entry…

www.ratemykitten.com

The stupidity of people never ceases to amaze me.

You bitch about no one paying attention to you when you’re depressed over some issue that no one cares about.

And then you force the people who were ignoring you to undergo pestering from friends just so they’ll like you again.

Congrats, you’ve proven yourself unlikable twice.

Inside a giant melon, scraping fruity syrup form the walls, eating melon. yum.

Hold me, James, and tell me it’ll be alright. Make the pain, the paranoia, the fear go away.

Barjoke Generator

Example:
So this genie walks into a bar. A kangaroo says “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help noticing. Aren’t you a genie”? The genie quickly downs six tequila shots, one after the other. The kangaroo pounds on the bar and yells “I’m gonna give you oral pleasure like you wouldn’t believe!”

So the genie says “I was on the wrong side of the bar, sir!”

The dream started with Jason Alexander and myself walking along a beach, talking about sand. We discussed how it looks a lot redder today. As we’re walking, we come to a cliff. Vines grow down the side of it, all the way to the shallow water at the bottom. Pieces of manikins are floating there, and Jason decides that he’s going to go get them. The lifeguard that’s there says that he shouldn’t go, but Jason doesn’t listen. I stay behind as Jason lowers himself on a wooden platform. I ask the lifeguard why he shouldn’t have gone, and the lifeguard says to look in the water. A shark’s dorsal fin pokes out the top. OH NOS!

I go down on the platform to distract the shark, and it comes at me. It pokes it’s head up out of the water, and it’s not a shark at all, it’s a dolphin! We all laugh heartily, and the dolphin pummels the hell out of Jason Alexander.

Schroe Dot Org (1:41:34 PM): Um, yeah, so I saw a death sequence dream.
J Jorenko (1:41:54 PM): Do tell
Schroe Dot Org (1:43:37 PM): Rapist dude came back again, but this time was very very violent, so I kinda died.
J Jorenko (1:43:51 PM): :o
Schroe Dot Org (1:44:02 PM): Before I died, though, you came in and found me
J Jorenko (1:44:09 PM): This is a disturbing series of dreams
Schroe Dot Org (1:44:20 PM): I was one the ground all bloody and stuff, saying, “Kill me,” but you didn’t wanna :-(
J Jorenko (1:45:23 PM): :-( Read the rest of this entry…

Everyone always wants to give their own bit of advice.

How do I say nicely that I don’t want to fucking hear it?

—

On a side note, my PMS has figured out how to escape the pill’s control.

I went to bed early last night – early by my usual, that is. 1am. Yay. I woke up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach cramps. I don’t know what was causing them, and I really didn’t care. I was so tired that I just changed position in bed and went back to sleep. When my stomach discovered that it could hurt me in that position, I woke, and moved again. I repeated several times, just waking and falling back to sleep.

I finally get up and stay up at about 9am, because the maintenance guys are cutting a hole in the ceiling of my bathroom. It goes nicely with the hold they cut in my closet last week. The bathroom light is full of dust.

I get dressed and head out to Marshall Fields for the group interview. Of course, they tell me that they have nothing to offer me, even though over the phone they loved the fact that I have much food service experience.
Read the rest of this entry…

[Jorenko> BBQ Chicken with . . . . HARD BOILED EGGS. On the same plate. As if they had some sort of business sitting next to each other like that.

—

[Schroe> Running around naked all the time. You strange boy.
[Ettin> >: I wear a shirt and shorts! And I smell like feet.

—

night1stalker (12:30:08 AM): Yay! An email from Schroe! You’ve devirginized my mailbox. Thank you!
KJ StErOiDs (12:34:33 AM): Why do you want these e-mails, Night?
Schroe Dot Org (12:35:26 AM): He’s gang-banging his new email address. I had first poke.
night1stalker (12:36:07 AM): Poe got sloppy seconds… Poor KJ had to finish up.
HisZimmyness (12:37:13 AM): I’ve always wanted to violate a young, innocent, virgin mailbox

An Invader Zim dream. I should draw the characters some time. They are strange.

As it starts, we have a view of a large crowd viewing a stage. It looks like a concert of some sort, and there is a single female human on the stage, over which every boy is drooling except two. Zim, who is nowhere to be seen, and Dib, who is too busy ranting at his disinterested sister to even notice.

The girl is apparently some pop star, and she had just finished a concert. She grabs the mic one last time and begins some sort of scripted speech. As she speaks, the camera flits from the speaking girl to the ranting Dib. Dib and his sister are positioned in the back row of the concert, standing on top of a robotic lift that their father made.
Read the rest of this entry…

Originally done when I was still in Chicago, so the entry has been back-dated to half a million years ago.

Warning, warning, lack of interest in creating comic immanent.

Next >

Last Night’s Dreams:

The dream started at some awards show. I was the lighting/stage crew, so I began tearing everything down after it had finished. People had forgotten things behind the stage, such as t-shirts and music stands. People had returned their shirts, too, because they were too small. I gave them new ones.

I walked home from the event with Jorenko. A man steps up to us and asks us for money. I keep walking, but Jorenko slows down. I turn around, grab Jorenko, and say, “Let’s go.” The man follows us, and I grab Jorenko’s Leatherman, and threaten the man to back off, or I’ll cut him. He goes.
Read the rest of this entry…

I finally learned by example how the mind can fatigue the body.

At work, I was tired as hell, but I still did my job. I had no physical reason to be tired. I hate my job, though.

I got off work at 10pm. I walked to Dennis’ Place for Games and played Pump it Up . . .

. . . for three hours straight. No breaks. Not many others were playing, so it was just me, me, me.

Then I walked home, as if I hadn’t expended any energy.

As for the dance scores – I’m getting S’s in Monkey Magic (level 3), Take On Me (level 4), and, of course, Save Us (level 2)

[01:38] * TheNintenGenius eats Jell-O pudding, fully clothed. That isn’t quite as interesting as dancing nude in lime Jell-O, but I don’t care.

Bah, Xface, you didn’t allow replies :\

From your post, yes, your parents do seem to be gits, but I can’t make an opinion or take sides. I don’t know the whole story.

“But it just burned…it burned like chlorinated water…why do my tears burn?” & “Also, my eyes burn. Crying made them sore. Stupid tears.”

Not to sound insensitive, but that’s prolly too much salt in your tears. Drink more water.

1. Jorenko came out for the weekend. I called off “Sick” from work. I really was sick on Sunday, though.

2. They want proof I was sick. If they’d like to pay for my medical bills, I’ll get their sodding doctors note, but as it stands, I cannot afford it. I can, however, afford to not have a job at Taco Bell.

3. Why can I afford to not have a job at Taco Bell? It interferes with homework. I would like to get things done without having to stress.

4. Once I get things done, I will play games. Such as Pump It Up. Woohoo, workout.

5. Go to hell, fast food.

Schroe Dot Org (10:39:45 PM): Your impressions of Otakon, in 7 words or less!
Cammiluna (10:42:58 PM): vash vash vash vash vash vash vash!
Schroe Dot Org (10:43:22 PM): GOOD CHOICE!

Originally done when I was still in Chicago, so the entry has been back-dated to half a million years ago.

Braiding.

Next >

I lub Jorenko.

Jessie woke me up this morning, “Amanda, your boy’s here.”

*up, glomp, ;_;*

Alright, they got a DDR knock off at Dennis’ Place For Games (if you aren’t aware, this is the arcade I hang out at way too much.). I’ll be spending way too much time there, playing Pump it Up.

J Jorenko (2:33:42 PM): I’m back
J Jorenko (2:34:01 PM): But I’m gonna BRB, I need to get a washcloth
Schroe Dot Org (2:34:30 PM): … Warcraft is THAT good, eh?
J Jorenko (2:36:56 PM): I managed to soak it up with random paper towels that were nearby, but it was still sticky

[This is taken completely out of context. He spilled Code-Red. Or so he says.]

I remember waking at 7AM thinking how it was odd that I could have such a detailed, intense dream in such a short time.

It was winter in a city, and my mother and I were walking on the streets. We had just left an ice show, so it was in the evening. She and I were both well dressed, with fur-lined coats and gloves. My mother carried, in addition to her purse, a plastic bag and a camera bag. I walked slightly behind her with no bags, but my Leatherman multi-tool attached to my belt, and the camera in my pocket.

A homeless man approached my mother, asking her for change. “Let me check,” she said, and glanced into her plastic bag. “Sorry, sir, I have no spare change.” Read the rest of this entry…

“I think the reason straight guys like enormous schlongs, apart from the whole bigger = more powerful and more potent thing, is that it’s an easy answer to Freud’s unanswerable question: what do women want? The real answer is too hard. Women want you to be independent but emotionally available. They want you to be attached but not smothering. They want time and attention, and also some time alone. They want you to grow and change with them. They want you to be all kinds of things, and it’s going to be a different list for every woman, and that list is always subject to change without notice.”