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

Schroe Dot Org (12:04:09 AM): Some guy hit on me tonight and asked my name. I said “Mrs. Jurack” :P
J Jorenko (12:04:38 AM): Like the sound of that, do you? If not, I’ll just bounce you til you do.

Damn that bitch.

She still hasn’t done her dishes from weeks ago. Not only that, it’s 10:47 AM and she’s drunk off her box of Corona, which she finished by herself this morning.

The ending of the birthday episode of Mission Hill made me cry. The part where Kevin’s just sitting there alone in the empty house.

Okay, I’m a very lazy, sloppy, messy person, who really doesn’t care if her room looks like a pack of wild geese have been through it

So you know it’s pretty serious when I get pissed about cleanliness issues.

The dishes have been sitting there for five days.

CLEAN YOUR FUCKING DISHES, CANDICE.

Update 1: Family friendly dream:

Some company was testing some radioactive shite, and somehow, this related to planet of the apes. There was also a game in which one must escape without being seen by the guards. Tough game, I say! They made it damned near impossible. The guards were WW2 gestapo types.

I’m tired, I’ve got a headache, and I’ve got a lot of shit to deal with.

And the one thing that’ll make it allllll better is 250 miles away.

[Aqua> It’s that ham show on tv! YAY!
[Geno> ham?
[Aqua> hamtaro!
[Geno> ugh kill it, hamtaro gives good shows a bad name
[Aqua> But it’s too cute. I feel enslaved.
[Geno> FIGHT IT OR I WILL EAT YOUR CHILDREN
[Schroe> You already ate one billion of his children last night.
[Schroe> …
* Schroe runs away.
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It has often been my theory that if you don’t go outside, nothing will go wrong.
Then I moved to Chicago.

Whatever the reason, clog in the system, too much water in the pipes, or maybe my toilet was magically clogged without anyone using it – The toilet overflowed.

I’m not talking about “Filling to high and evening out.”

I’m talking “Filling to high, overflowing, and soaking the carpet in a five foot radius of the door, and even more in the foam padding under the carpet.” Read the rest of this entry »

So some guys from the arcade walked me home, ‘cos I kinda passed out on the machine.

J Jorenko: :O

I’m not going back for a while -_-

J Jorenko: You know what that means. You’re starting to run out of fat to burn, or something completely unrelated to that, even!

Troy, one of the regs at the arcade, got me hooked on a new song, so I kept playing it over and over and over.
He was mad at me because I aced the hard part :P
After a while, I took a break, and he asked me if I needed a drink. I’m not one to take freebies, so I said I was fine :|

J Jorenko: And you dehydrated and pooped

Yeah. I didn’t really pass out, I just fell over. People watchin’ caught me so I didn’t hit the floor. I sat in the corner for a half hour, then went home.

The dream started with Jorenko and I sitting on my bed. He was watching me play Diablo II, trying to distract me. I kept yelling at him, because he wasn’t supposed to be there, he was supposed to be somewhere else. I was getting really pissed off at him, but I couldn’t remember what it was he was supposed to be doing.

Then an IM window popped up on my screen from Ettin. Ettin was asking where Jorenko was. Why on earth would Ettin be asking where Jorenko is?

Apparently they’d planned a surprise visit, and Jorenko had forgotten to pick Ettin up from the airport. Ettin managed to get on AIM somewhere. We were both rather pissed off at Jorenko then.

So Jorenko goes off to get Ettin. (We’re all humans in this dream, mind. Our normal, real life selves.) I run off to my closet to change. While I’m picking out the best outfit to wear, Jorenko returns with Ettin. I slam the closet door shut, and yell, “I’m changing!” Ettin opens up the closet door while I’m half-naked and says, “HI SCHROE!”

I smacked him good.

[Jeff> I remember you seemed oddly amused by a toothpaste commercial. Once again, none of that is fabricated. Your dreams are always bloody and interesting, mine are just… illogical and weird. Fun, though :D
[Schroe> That just reminded me of something. I’m a warez dealer at school now. Some guy wrote down his phone number for me to tell him when I have his CDs done. He wrote it on a gum wrapper. I set it in my marker tin and went back to class. For some reason, I felt really really ill for a while. Then I sniffed the air. He wrote his name on a doublemint gum wrapper. I stuffed it away, deep in my bag and I felt fine. I can’t be around mint. I can’t even SMELL mint without feeling sick.

So, basically, this guy says I have to like him the way he is, or not like him at all – but I’m not allowed to not like him, because if I don’t like him, he’ll want to talk about it until I do like him.

My towers are built again, using stones from the ruins.

But now, I watch all of them, from the top of the tallest.

The townsfolk build their houses around my towers, but they do not answer to me.

I do not ask them to.

My towers are tall, sturdy; they won’t fall for a while.

But now is the time to build more towers, of newer material. It’s hard to work with a stone I do not know.

When someone’s a prick of a gamer, pulling lame playstyles and pissing everyone off, yet manages to be a perfectly fine person elsewhere, you simply don’t game with them., and everything’s fine.

Until they decided to bring that prickdom into normal chatting.

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.

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.
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[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.
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