Television is the devil, but oh, how I love my stories. . .

So instead of watching the pile of work on my desk pile up, I decided to do some web surfing. There is a site for people who want to stop watching television. Intrigued by the idea of a television-less life, I read some more. People who actually live their lives instead of watching other people live their lives vicariously through fictional stories seem to do more things with their lives. They go hanggliding, they ride horses, they do things that you see people on the herpes commercials do.

However, they are isolated from their coworkers and popculture in general. They are adult version of homeschooled kids - really nice, and you wish that you had such a great education, but you only want to be them in theory. Television is a common link between most people.

Television was my second love, after books. I watched some truly awful shows that provided hours of vicarious living in middle school - The Young Riders and Baywatch being two specimens of awesomeness that I used to watch. I have cultivated my tastes now to include such gems as Strangers with Candy, The Office (because it is much funnier than my own office), 24 (again, much more interesting than my office), watch home improvement shows (but don't actually do any home improvement - so much easier to watch it and far more entertaining), The Colbert Report (so much more interesting than regular news) and of course any CW drama series on DVD - currently, Veronica Mars and Angel. I am perfectly happy curling up on my awesome couch (it really is great) and watching some television on my own or with my incredibly wonderful boyfriend (though anyone is welcome as long as you appreciate).

Sometimes the bf makes me go outside and walk. I like nature - nature is great. And DVDs & DVR make life so much easier - can watch television on my own schedule. So while I have decided not to make my goal in life getting so morbidly obese that I merge with my sofa (there is a nasty story about that in the paper at http://www.palmbeachpost.com/localnews/content/martin_stlucie/epaper/2004/08/18/s1a_mcbody_0818.html), I am never going to give up television.

Counterfeit quarter - WTF?

[repost for Kvetch is the New Blog]

I have been carrying around a bum quarter for a week now. If my cell phone camera wasn't a piece of crap, I would take a picture of it. Being that I have never met a cell phone camera I liked, you will have to bear with my description and then thoughtful analysis of why counterfeiting quarters can actually be useful.

I first discovered said quarter when I went to get my 30th soda of the day from the vending machine. The vending machine, being a sensitive, yet cruel mistress, detected that it was faulty and spit it back out. I though she was mistaken and reinserted, with the same result. When I got back to my desk, amidst the pile of actual work, I examined said quarter. It was thicker than the other quarters and just slightly off. It was a MD State Quarter, too. My first inclination is to be upset. Counterfeit! And my own home state of Maryland is maligned! I can't get my caffeine/aspartame fix! But then I started thinking - this is kind of genius, if you are into counterfeiting money. I mean, they have those markers and laser lights for bills, but nothing for quarters (except for the vending machines - which are smarter than human cashiers, apparently). But who would be the wiser; it's just off by a few millimeters. And no one cares about coins anyway. But quarters can add up - I mean, if you have 30 quarters, you can buy ONE double sided quarter (heads) and win every coin toss! It virtually pays for itself (btw, you can get double sided quarters at pranks.com, for all of your pranking needs, though I don't think you can send them 30 quarters for payment).

Here's a scenario (granted, you would only do this with a mentally deficient person - look for a sideways hat for your mark): "Hey, let's flip a coin - heads and you give me $20; tails and I give you $20.25" (you can throw in the quarter as a gift) "Sweet - let's go" says the deficient guy with the sideways hat, full of confidence that he has a 50/50 shot - thought you know differently. You flip with your new double sided coin, and it's heads - you get $20. And some hugs from the special guy. If you have no problems with taking advantage of the guy who get's paid $2.00 an hour as a Wal Mart greeter, then you are in the green. All of this is made possible by 30 counterfeit quarters used to pay for a double sided quarter. I am not condoning this, I was just trying to think of scenarios in which you would use a counterfeit quarter that doesn't even work in vending machines.

The results of this analysis - FUCK YOU COUNTERFEITING QUARTER BASTARD!

Love Life Report Card

I have been in a functional, amazing relationship for a few months now and it is amazing. Never really had this type of relationship before. This was made clear to me when today I get an e-mail from a past "fling" (I don't know what to call it - it was less than dating, definitely not my boyfriend, so I guess fling is the best word). It got me thinking about my past love life - the results are not good. These are the highlights:

1. Gay Will - the name says it all on this one. Dated in high school, totally convinced himself he wasn't gay, but he really was. Example: muscial theater, Mariah Carey mix tape with a poem using all the titles. Tried to break up with him, he broke up with me like a week later because he just didn't want me to do it. Tard.
2. Pygme - that isn't really his name, but he was petite and tiny and Dominican - he just needed a loin cloth and spear to complete the look. Also known as Indian in the Cupboard. Man from above e-mail who sparked this whole thing. Not only was he 30 to my 19, he was also living with his girlfriend (which I didn't know). Ended because he left to go back to New York. Only called for booty - last time was after my dad died and he told me he was married, though didn't rule out the booty.
3. Pothead - again, not his real name. He was the one that I lived with - he was really boring after Pygme, but only 26 to my 20. He was a deadbeat who spent the rent money on pot. He worked at Giant and couldn't stop smoking pot so that he could pass a drug test. Broke up with him by calling his parents and telling them that he was a drug addict. He got sent to rehab, to which I sensitively replied: "Who gets addicted to pot? It's not physically possible, you moron" he then whined, "But I'm also addicted to opiates" to which I replied "You wish, dumbass." Responsible for a judgment on my credit. Checked his MySpace recently during a lull at work - he lies about his age on MySpace. First engagement.
4. Fucktard - this was what Sandie and Eddie called him. He was a nice guy - just not for me. Dated him while finishing school. Mom was completely white trash and racist. Divorced the dad so that she could get drunk and whore in bars. But would also pretend to be super-religous and was obsessed with her daughter. Moment of fame was when he brought me a 5-feet-high Scooby Doo stuffed animal that said "I Ruff You." Cheesy, cheesy guy. Brother was fun, though. Asked me to marry him on the marquee of the Uptown theater - wanted to say no, but didn't know how to get out gracefully. He gave me an out when he threw a tantrum after my mom died.
5. Delusional Psycopath - same as 2 in terms of definition of relationship. He was amazingly entertaining. Retarded habit of shaving his whole back with this long stick-like contraption. Would also take shoes off in movie theaters for no reason. Smoked A LOT of weed. Ended first time when moved to CA, but since his boss didn't recognize his brilliance of sitting in the car and getting high in the parkign lot, he left and came back here. Stayed with me for a while, then left to go to Scotland - leaving because he was "disappointed" in me. Had a girlfriend the whole time. Claim to fame was his delusion that I was writing blogs about him and his coworkers were reading them. His ex and I talk about him ocassionally - he is convinced that we are out to get him. Favorite quote "no one could have gotten into my Gmail - it's only accessible by my thumbprint" and "I can get a transcript of all of your blogs on MySpace, I know Tom." Hahahah -still makes me laugh.
6. Dewey - sort of in same category as 2 & 5. Big asshole, but I kept going with it. Don't really know why. Totally useless. Saw him simultaneously with #5 (during the times where #5 was away - wasn't two timing anyone). Scared to try anything new and quick to judge people - but he was really jealous of those who actually took chances and risks in their lives. Will die sad and alone. Don't care if he does or doesn't, but that's my prediction. Ended when I sold my parents' house. Favorite thing was when he told me that I whined too much about my parents' death - parents' die, I just need to get over it.

The results aren't good. It has taken me 10 years, but finally I am managing to be in a relationship with an amazing and wonderful person. He's handsome, intellingent, funny and kind; I am really lucky. So it was worth the crap to get to this point - but damn, there was a lot of crap.

Dr. Laura is an alien who uses mind control . . .

So I was perusing a bookstore the other day and found myself in the self-help section - which I admit, I go into from time to time, mostly looking for diet/weight loss books. However, there is a whole section which I avoid (except to mock), regarding relationships. I picked up Dr. Laura's new book and boy, are there some gems in there:

1. avoid interfaith marriage
2. stay together for the sake of the children
3. never say no to a husband who wants sex
4. never insist that a man wash his own dishes

Along with this, were some books on dating - stating that if a man does not ask you to marry him within 30 days, then the relationship is doomed and you may as well not even bother. He apparently doesn't want to be with you.

This scares me - there are a whole lot of women who read these books seriously. How many relationships have ended because of some bullshit that these women read in these books? I don't even take these things seriously, and I was effected just from reading the back summary. And what is with her frighteningly archaic rules for marriage? Why can't a man wash his own dishes? Maybe, and this is a big maybe, I will wash my husband's dishes if his arms fell off. But that's about it. And never say no to your husband if he wants sex?

I had a nightmare today where Dr. Laura analyzed my relationship, yelled at me Judge Judy-style (because I mix them up a lot) and then she told me that I needed to end it because my boyfriend isn't serious about me, ,will never marry me, and I will basically end up alone. Stupid Dr. Laura and her fucking mind control. I have underestimated her powers - she is truly evil and the devil.

Peter has a point. . .

So I just had my review for this year. My boss, who is leaving, is very nice and I like her a lot. It's not her fault that my company is a bunch of cheap bastards. So I get my bonus and my merit increase. My merit increase breaks down to a whopping $60/month BEFORE taxes. That's not even enough to cover parking. But I'm supposed to be thrilled. Um, not so much. Well, maybe because I could have gotten nothing. So I guess there's an upside.

Here's the thing about corporate America. There is no incentive to work harder. I could have gotten the same review doing 1/2 as much work. So, like Peter Gibbons, it's a problem with motivation. There is a limit to how many Superior reviews they can give out, too.

So I am trying to get promoted so that I can at least have some concrete goal to work towards. It's sad that I have to make goals to work towards because if I do a bangup job currently, it doesn't make a difference to my compensation. By the way, we have a whole compensation department that looks at what everyone in the area is making at your same job and then averages it to make sure you are on track. Because dammit, it can't have anything to do with your actual performance or aptitude for the job.

So now I have an extra $47 a month to play with - I can feed my Whole Food addiction some more, I am thinking. Or I can get cable - but not quite. That's $50 a month. Dammit - so close.

Guilty Pleasure. . .

I have to admit a guilty pleasure. I enjoy staying in the hospital on the first day when I have an attack of ITP (http://www.pdsa.org/). It's a real disease and sometimes I have no platelets and I can't clot my own blood. The symptoms themselves (besides the potential for hemorraghing) are muscle aches and fatigue, along with bruises and "freckles" (it looks like freckles, but they are little bits of blood). OK, so that's the explanation in a nutshell. Before they give me medicine to bring the platelets back up, I get to stay in the hospital. NO ONE makes any demands of me on the first day. I get to lie in bed and watch television, read books and generally be a sloth. They often ignore/forget about me, so they leave me alone that first blessed day. Sometimes, for fun, the prescribe something that's contraindicated, like Aspirin (not a thing to give to a bleeder), and I just shake my head and send them away. Or they try to take my blood with the wrong gauge needle (too big) or some other mishap. Sometimes I can get them to bring me stronger drugs that make me really happy - but usually I have to trump something up for this - like nausea (it's a good thing that I can get online because I usually check out if it's all right to give me some drugs because they forget - how hard is it to be a dr. or nurse? Apparently not very - I will get me a degree this weekend). But anyway, the first day is HEAVEN. Drugs aplenty (though you have to do some research or they'll kill you), bed rest and television. With my laptop, I can even watch DVDs.

The second day is a quick descent into hell and by the third day, I want to kill the doctors, nurses and myself. The medication they give me is awful and hellish. You can't get more than 1 hour of uninterrupted sleep. The incompetence really starts to get scary ("don't worry, it's supposed to burn" was the phrase that almost made me sign out AMA last time). Crazy roommates who go on about sherbert and Jesus freak nurses. But the first day, if it is on a work day, is better than a snow day or a day when the school gets flooded.

Growing up Catholic. . .scary or fun?

Below is the head of St. Catherine of Siena who died in 1380. Is it just me or is that pretty damn gross? Catholics tend to like relics - which are usually body parts of a saint. For my First Communion, I got a necklace with a bone from St. Elizabeth Seton embedded in the back of the necklace (she was the patron saint of Maryland). I remember thinking that it was kind of gross to wear a bone around my neck.

The Holy Head, as they call St. Catherine's head, was involved in some interesting events. For instance, one time they were parading the head through the streets and some hooligans tried to steal it - but ended up dropping it on the street. There are also many explanations for the head - Catholics are quick to explain how the body was decomposing, so there was no violence in removing the head. Though they have no problems with putting the head on a stick and parading it around the streets. Also, there is of course doubt whether this is actually Catherine's head. That is always true with relics - God forbid you are worshiping some random person's decomposing body.

She is the patron saint of: against fire, bodily ills, diocese of Allentown, Pennsylvania, USA, Europe, firefighters, illness, Italy, miscarriages, nurses, people ridiculed for their piety, sexual temptation, sick people, sickness, Siena Italy

It's ironic that she is the patron saint of people ridiculed for their piety - will she strike me dead for questioning the practice of decomposition worship?

New world order, please

I have come to understand that any job I could possibly have entails the production of goods or services. I have nothing against goods or services - in fact, I quite enjoy both. These goods and services are produced to either:

1. add entertainment value to our lives (television shows, durable goods like the Wii, CDs, etc.) OR
2. to make life easier for us (Clorox Disinfecting Wipes, Monistat 1-day, etc.)

The latter give us more time to enjoy the former, in theory. However, this is not the case. It simply means that we have more time to work so that we can enjoy durable goods and pay for such luxuries as housing, electricity and food (and the ever increasing price of such goods). Call me crazy, but I actually want to enjoy these durable goods and not just think about spending time with them whenever I have a spare moment from work.

My point is that I have no desire to work more than I am working - in fact, I want to work less. Or not at all. Though this is not an option unless I either marry well or become a drug dealer or sex worker, I will just imagine the things that I would do if I didn't need health insurance and bill money:

• spend more time with loved ones, though this is difficult as they have jobs, but this is first priority
  
• learn an instrument (or a couple), maybe even join a band with other nonworking fun guys
• travel, mainly having to stay in hostels or bumming around, but traveling - anywhere, really - ideally space travel, but alas, we are not there yet
  
• learn languages for fun and for said travel (Arabic, French and Esparanto especially)
  
• write The Great American Novel (so cliched it's disgusting, but I'm being honest)
• learn a martial art
• community work - battered women, abused children, mentoring
• be in a theater production
• learn how to make really good pastry dough
• catch up on great movies and literature

This is just a start - I think that I could fill up my time if I didn't work. Need to figure out a way - maybe move to Italy. They haven't produced anything in a long time and don't care if you sit around smoking in a cafe all day.

Or maybe I'll just sit around watching television all day. That could very well happen. I amend my day to include watching television and movies, reading, eating and having sex. What else does a person need?

Cake Delivery

[also on MySpace]

B drew this picture for me one day when I said I wanted cake. It makes me happy. . . it has wheels.

This quote from Beautiful Girls gets me everytime:

Supermodels are beautiful girls, Will. A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you've been drinking Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high full of the single greatest commodity known to man - promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it's going to be okay. The supermodels, Willy? That's all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.

Little known facts. . .

My great-uncle invented the three-way lightbulb. Seriously. Proof is below.

He was also an Italian Count. He just keeps getting cooler.

Here is an article about my great uncle (by marriage) proving that my mom's family isn't entirely useless liars [article]:

The three-way light bulb was invented by Alessandro Dandini, who patented more than 22 inventions, including the rigid retractable automobile top and the spherical system, which concentrates and extracts solar energy. Dandini came to the U.S. in 1945, and taught at the University of Nevada in Reno. He held degrees in science, languages, hydraulic engineering and classical literature. He died in 1991 at age 88.

That's my grandomother's sister. She did do some good stuff. Though, I have to say, she did write a book of lies. I am trying to find said book of lies, but it's slow going. I don't remember what it's called - but she said that her father invented white gloves and was pivotal in there emergence in Philadelphia culture.

Part 1 of List to Do Before I Die [LTDBID]: Buffy Wannabe

[Also on MS Blog]

I'm morbid. I have issues with death and loss. So I think a lot about things that I want to do before I die. The list is quite long, so I decided to list it in themes. This first theme is movie-style stunts/violence that I want to experience. I decided to write these down so that I will get them done eventually.

1. I want to roudhouse kick someone to the face
2. I want to pistol whip someone
3. I want to flip someone over my shoulder but then step on their neck.

To clarify, I don't want to do this to some innocent person just walking down the street (though, really, who is innocent when you think about it?) But I will have to have some sort of screening method so that I'm not just assaulting people. It would be easy enough if there was a blatant reason for this - like if they were a zombie and about to eat my brains. However, as much as I want to, I have yet to see a zombie. Also, what if someone says "Oh, she's a zombie" meaning just an apathetic person. But in my zeal to see a zombie, and perform some awesome superhero feat, I go after someone who's just smoked too much pot. And if I ever went to the Baltimore Zombie Walk (http://www.baltimorezombiewalk.com), how would I know who was a real zombie? That would be a great place to hide if I were a zombie, though. But I doubt they think that strategically.

Preferably, I will be saving someone besides myself by performing said acts of violence. Like saving a baby from a lycanthrope. Though that might be a horrible generalization - how do I know that all lycanthropes are bad? They may be unfairly maligned - I don't have much experience with them, unfortunately (nothing fun ever happens to me).

Crap - just realized, should probably have supernatural powers to do this. Well, since I wasn't a "chosen" one that I know of and I wasn't born on Krypton, I am crap out of luck. Unless there is some nuclear fallout or if I am experimenting with gamma radiation. Bullshit, man, bullshit.

OK, so that's my first list. Obviously, after having discussed it a bit, it is clear that I just want to be Buffy.

The Donger Learned How to Clean!

[Also on MS page]

So I had a meltdown last week regarding my brother, Eddie (aka The Donger). I have been having a hard time with him because he is beyond filthy. I think he took a dump on the floor of his bathroom (though he said it was the dog - I don't know). Anyway, I told him that I would feel much better if he would help me clean on my day off yesterday. After explaining that feces are bad and should not be anywhere outside of a toilet bowl the second before they are flushed, we hit a stride. First we bought a lot of ammonia and disinfectant. My instructions were: Go to the kitchen. Look to your left. Open cabinet under the sink and pull out toilet bowl cleaner with your right hand. Walk back to bathroom and find toilet bowl brush in cabinet. Close cabinet. . .um. . .people don't usually use their hand to clean the toilet, they use a brush. . . seriously, I would suggest a brush or at least a glove. . .okay, I'll just go over here now and pretend that I didn't just see that. . .

At least I am no longer living in degredation in squalor. Though my room is a pit of despair, at least there are no turds anywhere. There's always a bright side.

Bastards, I tell you. . .and I'm a bitch. . .

[Abbreviated version also on MS Blog]

City Paper Article

This is a link to the most mysogynistic article ever. I hate this guy - he is the reason that I hate the bar scene and hate dating. However, I will admit that I understand where this is coming from. When there is a loss or when there is a rejection, it is awfully hard not to fill that void with anyone and anything that comes in ones path. I have definitely done that - lived by the motto that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. It's a shallow sort of existence, as this article points out. It doesn't make it any easier for someone on the receiving end of this sort of treatment. (So horrible - when I go onto OK Cupid, I have to be careful or I'll run into some of the people who have been on the receiving end of my bitchery. I didn't want to be mean, but it just happened. This is not including the penis deformity duo - I don't fee bad about ditching them.)

I am finally getting to the point in my life when I want a relationship - I spent my early and mid 20s in relationships. I have been enjoying the single life for about 3 and a half years now and it's been good, actually. Been dating - usually not much amounts from this except for amusing stories about deformed penises and alleged blog-writing. One or two haven't sucked, but I haven't wanted to be in a relationship at all, let alone with them. My online dating history has been less than successful. I mean, two deformed penises and the licker do not amount to a rousing success. And of course, there are the two engagements which are never ending fodder of amusement to my friends (I'm looking at you Robin) that I didn't meet online. So either way, it seems that I am a mess.

The above article is why I HATE dating. I really do. I know that one day I want to find someone to spend my life with - granted if I can find a person that can stand me (big order) and who I can stand (even bigger order). When you are hot (which I am assuming because I don't know from personal experience, so this is conjecture) you apparently don't need to be interesting - for both women and men. So don't go for the super-hot girls if you want interesting conversation - go for the cute girls who may not be the hot chicks but are unfathomably more interesting. And if all you want is sex, hire a prostitute - it's much less effort. And can be cheaper than plowing someone with drinks (and roofies if you are hanging out at Rumors - whole other story). The superficial bullshit really pisses me off - as bitchy as I have been, I have never been superficial about it (okay, maybe a few times - deformities, morbid obesity with leg-dragging and teeth at right angles to head are clearly exceptions to this rule - I think of that as evolutionary protection of the species, not unduly superficial).

Most of my friends are now in relationships that are for the most part functional - I guess I just feel like the only single person I know right now. Just getting to that age, I guess. I spent my early 20s in relationships, so now I'm in my late 20s and in bizarre reversal of things, I am playing the field while everyone else is in a relationship.

Well, here is the picture of the droid cat that I am going to live with when I am all old and alone. He's kind of scary - I will call him Mort. As Kim pointed out, Mort is Death's Helper, which is quite fitting.

Grey area revisited (from La Choi's previous post)

So La Choi brought up the whole grey area (or is it grey? Long pause as lookup the difference between gray and grey - basically, grey is a "colour" while gray is a color - since I am an anglophile, I think I will stick with grey to be more authentically wannabe - think Madonna). Anyway, the grey area is not unfamiliar to anyone who has been single for more than 10 minutes. It's a dating purgatory - when the relationship is stuck between casual dating and exclusive relationship. It's the part where you start to think that maybe this person isn't the Antichrist, a fuckwit, a crossdresser who will beat you with his dildo for stealing his shoes. When you realize that you like this person more than just a once-a-week date/sex/awkward conversation. It's before you've had the talk about where this relationship is going. And if you are not open about the fact that you or he may be dating other people (which one of you probably is), this is the time when you may have to acknowledge that fact. And this may come out in slight paranoia every time he says he is busy, even if he is doing his laundry or working over the weekend.

And I know this happens to me, but I start to hate being single. I am fine when I am completely unattached, but when the possibility is there, just out of reach, is when I start to feel like a singleton. It's an aggravating phase that lasts until I either break up with the person (unleashing a whole lot of dating/rejection neuroses) or get into an exclusive relationship (unleashing the relationship neuroses and self-sabotage). So neither is a good place for me - one day I'll probably have to work on that. But I am coming to terms that I am going to die alone with cats - provided that they are droid cats and I don't have to deal with actual care, cleaning and feeding. But I digress. . .

I am currently in a situation that could be constituted as a grey area. I wrestle with the question of whether to push the situation to something that neither of us may be ready for - it's like there is this conventional, bourgeoisie, cotillian dancing traditionalist who is evil and fills my head with annoying thoughts of the Volvo-driving, soccer mom lifestyle that I wouldn't be able to tolerate (apologies to any VDSMs who take offense, but I had to raise a brother from the worst ages ever - 14 to 18 - and I my biological clock has been snoozed for about 10 years). It's like I can't accept that this relationship is good where it is - this could all be part of the self-sabotage again. I should just accept it, though - it's great where it is right now. Can I just accept that?

I don't know if there is someone out there who I will be able to settle down with one day - I just know I don't want to decide one day that I'm ready to settle down and settle with the person I am with at the time - that is settling for mediocrity, as La Choi pointed out.

Thieving, destructive bastards. . .

So I wake up this morning, set to leave AMA's house, as usual (amorous male acquaintance, topic of whole other blog). Get to sister's house and come out to discovery that tire is completely flat. May be mechanical half-wit, but do know enough to recognize driving on a flat tire. Take out jack, and of course it's nonsense and stupid stick figure diagrams make no sense whatsoever. Neighbor comes out with some huge jack-like device and puts my donut on in about 5 seconds (it probably would have taken me about a day and a half).

Finally took to tire place, which miraculously was open on Sunday (thank goodness for secularization of society - otherwise would have to wait until Monday - instant gratification is grand). There was a "special" man who took the order - nice and willing, but not overly able, if you catch me. He took it to a surly man in the back who showed me the place where the tire had been slashed.

First thing I think of is: who did I piss off? Not anyone of late. Of course, could have been demeted Scottish man, but at last notice, was still in Scotland. But still quite furious about alleged blogs about himself. Besides, have gotten new car since demented Scottish bastard knew me (in fact, car only two weeks in my posession, which is even more irritating). Called AMA to tell him and he went to check his car - and his tire was flat to. As was his neighbor's. GAH - whole slashing frenzy. Little bastards. $116.00 of pain in my ass. Not to mention AMA - they stole his laptop earlier in the week during the whole broken door debacle. And they smashed the pumpkins - when will it all end?

Little juvenile delinquints - remind me of the boys went to Catholic school with. Except for that would have been childs' play for the ringleader, Chris. He drove himself to school when he was 12. Shaped an icicle into an icepick, put it into a snowball, and then threw it at another kid - who had a hole in his cheek and had to eat his food out of a syringe. I wonder what happened to that kid? He's probably a hired killer somewhere. Good person to know.