Cleaning - Bizarre Food and more Angst. Yay.

I fail at keeping promises. >< BAD NINJA, POST MORE. Anywho...

I gotta say, keeping a blog is actually kinda nice. Very thereputic in a way, even if no one has a clue to what you're saying. Just nice to write things down and then laugh about yourself if you happen to peak back a month or two later.

This blog is about bizarre food.

They're very interesting things, refridgerators are. You can keep things in there far past their experation date and not even notice until the tentacles start flailing about and the walls suddenly attract a weird blue fuzz. No. I promise, that is not how my refridgerator looks like. But I did stuble upon something amazing, something magical.

Now, anyone who knows me I can not make anything more complicated than a PB&J. And that, only if you happen to be lucky. This is usually in my oversight to read the food packaging be it instructions or numbers or anything. Food is food, and I eat it. Simple, neh?

So a friend of mine was over and we got a bad case of the midnight munchies. So we go digging in the fridge and hit jackpot. 10 bars of pure Hershey's chocolate. Good and delicious substance of the gods. And we indulge, munching down three. But the only problem is, it seems that at some point of their lives, the chocolate had melted, then remelted, resulting in a watery taste and odd texture. We're hungry teens. Taste and texture matter not, so we wolf 'em down anyways.

The night moves on and we return for a second attack. In our second go, I check the back out of curiousity because I figure, meh, might as well start reading packages. The expiration date? March 2, 2001. We just ate 10 year old chocolate.

...

I regret nothing.

Cleaning - Children

One of these days, I shall find the resolve to post more in this blog. Really.

But right now what's not on my mind is not nonsense, or angst. Just simply remembering a bad Thursday and the reason why my back is in so much pain right now.

Children. Little ones. Bundles of screaming 'joy'. 

I hate 'em. Specifically from the ages of 1 - 8, I find them obnoxious, needy, unable to communicate clearly, confusing and really really frightening. I have seen children of the corn one too many times not to be aware of the destructive power of their puppy faces. Oh yes, I am fully aware of their evilness. 

But I was forced by a lovely event known as Service Day to go to a run down preschool and help out with the 2-3 year olds. Now, these are the type I despise the most. Too young to understand anything except their basic colors and half of the alphabet, but they can walk, and grab, and handle sharp objects with surprising accuracy.

I suppressed the urge to flee screaming from the room the moment I saw them quite well, I do believe.

Luckily, classmates kept a majority of them distracted but they could not handle all of them. 3 of them, wide eyed and walking with a stumbling uncertainty, tottered towards me. And refused to leave my side for the rest of the day. Others came and went, but this group of three followed me around like I was a mother hen. It disturbed me to no end. But I complied with their little demands, like the pushover I am, and allowed them whatever their little hearts desired, including riding on my back all day. (which is why I can't feel my spinal cord right now) By the end of the day, I was missing half a head of hair from them helpfully 'braiding' it, muscles I didn't know existed hurt, and I had been flipped off by a 3 year old. No, I am not joking. Attempts to kill the little monster were unsuccessful...

And then I was kissed on the cheek with a small 'I love you'. By the little one who refused to come off of my back no many how many times I pleaded with him. *shudder*

What. The. Bloody. Hell? Those were my exact thoughts as I faked a smile, patted him on the head, and made a mad dash for the safety of the bus.

... Children are beings that are impossible to understand.

And of course, random tidbit fact! Did you happen to know that toads can shoot poison from their eyes? Fascinating. 

I will post more in this blog. I swear.

Cleaning - Mole People

Okay, so, I know this seems pretty bad. I know this seems like I'm stalling for time to delay actually doing any work on the stuff I should be working on, like my morality project or lab report on that shit I blew up a few weeks ago. (Yeah, it was an epic explosion and completely worth the detention)

All lies.

Heed my words, good citizens of the internet! For I bring truth, and poisoned kool-aid! But mostly truth!

The mole people live among us. Oh yes, I'm sure you've seen them. You've seen them but you just don't realize it yet. They could be anywhere, they could be anyone. That helpful policeman that lets you cross the street, the squirrel in your front yard, the little old dodgey lady who won't stop screaming about her precious 'Muffle Snuffle' (Poor creature who suffers that name) ? Yeah. They're all mole people. I could be a mole person, and you just wouldn't know it, would you?

This is a crisis people! Screw the economy and the war in the middle east, this is much more important! They are taking over our planet slowly but surely in the form of fast food chains that enslave us with fast and efficiant but fatty foods so that when the revolution comes, all they have to do is roll us down hill into their awful little machiney things. Not quite sure what they do, to be honest, but I'm certain it's diabolical! I have chills thinking of such things.

Anyways, I've compiled a short list of how you can tell a mole person from a real person. Learn it, memorize it. It could save your life.
1. Ask them about the black box. Any answer that does not result in ' It is the begining and the end of all creation' is a definate sign of a mole person. Kill them on the spot.
2. Ask them if they would like some kool aid. When they agree, as no one can resist kool aid, politely point out that there is a flying monkey behind them. While they look for the mokey that was actually a devious lie, poison the kool aid. If they don't drink the now poisoned kool aid, they're a mole person since they've obviously sniffed out the delicate balance of chemicals. If they do drink it well.... They were a normal person... Run before authorities (obvious mole people) catch up to you.
3. I really like this number. No idea why.
4. Set a nasty trap with a donught as bait. Wait a couple of hours, and then fall for your own trap when you realize donughts can not be resisted. Surprise! You're a mole person!

So yes. This is my devious plan. Together, we can pull though and eliminate this threat, but only for team work!

So who's with me!?

Whoa hey. New post in... a good several months.

Not much has really changed really other then my age, transfer of America's power, and insignificant social details. So I guess I haven't had much to write about, or anything that I felt passionate enough to write about. Or maybe I just forgot about this blog thing completely. (Screw you, I can barely remember my name a times alright?)

I digress...

The reason I'm writing now? I'm not quite sure myself... I guess I'm really just ranting. Yeah, that's pretty much it. What about? People, whatever else do I ever rant about?

I'm just sick of fake people. So sick of them. Clamoring for anothers approval, saying whatever makes them well liked no matter what it takes to get to the top. Social cues and rules. 'You have to say this, not that.' 'You can't talk like that to him' 'She says this but she really means that.' It all makes a my skin crawl. Don't get me wrong. I play social games every now and then. They're inevitable sometimes it seems. But I'm so tired of it, it and people who come with it. They tell you anything, even if they don't believe in it themselves, if it will win you over onto their side, if they think that you can be another troop in their little 'Queen Bee' army.

Fuck all of it.

People confuse me. Most of them I don't understand, can't seem to understand, nor have any desire to understand. I'm bad at interpreting motives, just as bad as I am at concealing my own. Call it dense, naive, whatever the hell you want. I fail to see a need to complicate things even further than they are already. Life and coincidence seem to do a good enough job at that without any assistance from these 'social rules'. I say what the hell I mean, and I mean whatever the hell I say. Why make it any more difficult then that? If you like someone, go ahead and say it. If you're upset with someone, out with it and confront them. If you just don't like someone, only one way they're ever going to go away. Fuck the rest of the world. If people don't like you, remember, there's another 4 billion fleshy meatbags just like them. Have fun, life is way too short to care.

Cleaning - Night

Parties are always quite interesting things that can either be boring, or so fun that there's miniture explosions and its almost just too much to handle. Tonight was one of the latter. I'm honestly not sure whether this will remain true in the morning, since I'm not quite over the effects of food and punch, but I shall carry on regardless! Mwha!

Twas vampire masquerade themed, which meant I got to go with my trenchcoat, bloodied knife and tophat. I had a lot of fun with my costume, but then again, I always have a lot of fun with costume as anyone who knows me can attest to. I was proud, 5 people mistook me for a guy, which means I got my bindings right this time. And then I went swiming wearing a metal studded jacket which was... difficult, but at least I built some leg muscle. Of course, then there was the pile on, in which I was burried beneath a mountain of bodies.

My only problem was the discovery and explotation of my weak spots which I shall not put over the internets simply because they are my bloody weak points and I don't need them being used against me. >> Then there was the wrist biting... Still tingles. Ugh. I do the fucking biting and blood sucking, no one else. But they got bit back so it was all good in the end. Kaaaaarma's a bitch, ha. Though... I didn't do any biting myself. Odd but eh.

Wheeeee, says the little voice in my head right now. Yes, I do think that I might have lost a little too much oxygen and gotten a little too much of an adrenaline rush from sparing with some people with glow sticks. And losing badly... Oh I lost so badly, but I don't feel bad since he was twice my size and going into the marines. I am made of 100% certified squish, not a single muscle, for better or for worse. I have absolutely nothing more to talk about, other to say that it was a good time to be had by all, I'm currently experiencing hallucinations and I hope that the Empress has a happy birthday. Good night!

Cleaning - Change

Things change. Flowers bloom and then wither away to leave seeds for the cycle to begin again and for another flower to change and blossom on their own. Time, wind, and rain tear at walls until there is nothing but smooth stones covered in moss in the middle of open fields. Nothing remains permanent, nothing. And I view this as a good thing.

Humanity... could be doing a bit better right now. The world seems to be crashing down in and on itself, when even mother nature has turned her back on us, sick of our constant abuse. And then in turn, we attack one another, tearing and destroying with glee written upon faces. Peace loving hippies find it hard to survive in a world where violence is always the best way to make a point. I really can't say much, I'm a bit of a sadist myself but even in bloodlust, I know when enough is enough.

But I think the worst of it all is apathy. People are starting to care less and less about the world around them, sitting around and waiting for change to happen or believing that they can't make a difference. Bullshit. Everything makes a difference. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction and that's physics for ya. Even if it is small, there is a reaction. And as for the idea of rejection of work, a rection of the idea... If people recoil from your work, screw them! At least you have planted the idea into their minds, and even if their reaction is one of disgust and horror, it's a thought that they will carry and no doubt share with others. Such is the spread of ideas. Why have books been so treasured and feared throughout history, to the point that they would be burned? Because they are ideas written down and shared with all, a voice echoing through time to the present that may not reflect the culture of now. And with around 5 billion people in this world, (I'm no good with numbers mind you...) chances are, one of them will listen. One of them will agree. And one of them will help. And that's how change happens.

There's hope for humanity. So long as there are stories and ideas to share, there's always hope. Because people can change. Humanity can change, for better or worse, it doesn't matter. So long as it can, there's again that hope that you can make them listen. And that's what I believe.

... I can't have a completely serious post. Damn you, Yuki for making me rant now.
Wombats are rad. Do not forget this.

Cleaning - Children

Children are hellspawn. This is fact, with no exceptions.

I am working at the fair, in need for a couple of volunteer hours if I don't want to be pressed into service during the summer. And I like spending my summer's indoors. So of course, the only job available is working at the county fair for 5 hours or so. 'Haha,' I thought foolishly to myself. 'I'll help set up, serve food to obese penguins disguised as people, and then run home in time to get a couple of rock songs in.' Oh how wrong I was.

Set up was fine, I got to play with tape and colored paper and make a pest of myself to those who entered the circle of death tape. No problem. The problem came when the fair actually opened. I was not the only one who assumed some quick hours serving food, and so by the time I dashed to the food court, they turned me away, having too many volunteers as it was.  'Curses! Where can I work now?' I thought as I glanced around. Fate then decided to mock me by placing me in one of the worst fair positions known to man.

The Dunk Tank.

I am soaked, I am cold, and I have been yelled at and mocked by children less than half my size. If that was not enough, I was then shuffled to the target practice area where instead of being dunked in water, I was attacked by an swarm of those wide eyed bugs with soft balls, strong arms, and bad aim. I hurt now.

But I can not accept defeat! Oh no... The little monstrosities will rue the day they ever met me! Mwhahaha!

Now just to gather an army of sporks...