So, when given my druthers, I watch music videos on the internet.
It’s quarter to 11, and I’ve been up for nearly an hour. I don’t know this time of day.
I’m gonna go get more tea and figure out what to do with this cold sunny day.
Well, 13 eggs is hard boilin’, it’s 11:11 AM, and laundry’s washing. Then, after typing this and whatnot, I’m gonna make me a grilled cheese with the extra sharp cheddar cheese I bought and bread I made. My productivity revolves around feeding myself. I’m a body sculptor. Then, I’m gonna go throw snow around in the cold. No rest for the wick head.
Guitarsies, eh? No hard drive space. Fiddlesticks.
I’m so in love with you, I’m so in love with you, I’m so in love with you. I typed that 3 times. No copy/pasting. That’s how much.
Yes, you too.
So, maybe I’ll run into you the next time you’re single. Or maybe your little sister’s single. I’m sure I’m in love with her, too. Doesn’t mean anything. She’d have to not say anything that “offends” my delicate sensibilities for a few days before I propose. I know, nobody will marry a broke loser, but she seems to smile and perk up a bit, knowing that a fall-back plan is just that. She’ll never dip this low again.
Woo-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh ooh, ooh ooh (rooster intro. It was on the radio!)
I’m a happy vj. I keep watching these audiosurf videos. It’s even more pathetic than playing video games, watching them. It’s like letting someone who works for a game company’s legal department dj for me. What the fuck. I find decent music this way. It’s all corporate, but hey, isn’t that everyone’s goal anyway? Bottom feeders. The graphics are like a dark, graphical audio visualizer, with a racing spaceship with guitar-hero-looking glowing cough drops. The square pack kind. Halls? I dunno. I like boom blocks on the wii. Wii sports are relatively fun, too. I spend too much time in front of monitors as it is. Though, I have/take far more control of what goes before my eyes than you remote zombies. My keyboard injects thinkies back into ex matrix-o. x-o is a good face.
So, YouTube, I gotta say, I been using this quicklist, and it works quite nicely. Better than the other playlists, actually. They really don’t like multiple tabs, eh?
So, paint is up to 40 videos with recent additions. I better add two more, eh? Heh heh heh. It’s the funniest number? Which coat is funnier? Wear that one. That movie has significance. One of a handful of “dates” that have occurred in my recent 4th dimension. Follow the eString, collow the money.
A new bio: shit. smut. trash. filth, & feculence. I will talk shit about your fucking country because your country is run by self-righteous asshole slobby resource hogs, too. Yes, the fucking warmongers. And the corporate servants. Westernization is the auto-consumption of one’s soul. There are no people left, just empty shells of jealousy fear and hate. Zombie automatons. I know I’m mean. You’re fucking mean, too. Why the fuck haven’t you touched me yet. Of course it turns me on when you slap me, a little. It more makes me not want to be around you any more, though. Slaps hurt. God, the shit a cast aside isolate will put up with for human contact.
Favorite #360 on YouTube. This video is making me win many times.
I’mma go shovel for a bit. It’s 1.
I have been “liking” Wikipedia entries on fb by the hundred every week or so. I’m beginning to think nobody’s gonna un-friend me. Dammit. Won’t talk, won’t fuck, but still wanna know what this crazy fuckker gonna say nex. shit.
All I do anywhere, ever, is dance. It’s 4:14 PM on Friday, March 25, 2011. This is known as that time of day where nothing good’s on TV, but if you don’t punch out for another 45 minutes, what the fuck else are you gonna do. Does anybody fuck in the late afternoon any more? Did they ever? How can I meet these people if they exist? Please?
So shoveling is mostly done. The huge snow curved pyramid thing turned into a firefly sculpture, then a shoveling table, then a parabolic home design, then a shovel-filling bowl, then a fractured shovel-filling wedge, and then a shrinking chunked-off snow blob. All this time, it was just moving about fifteen feet away. I started with the steel square-head shovel, but switched to the lighter plastic one when the weight, capacity, and biting ability of the steel was no longer necessary. I jumped up on top of the pile before that, too. Thinking, at the time, that it would compact it so that it would melt faster. Turns out, it just broke apart the various layers of variously-compacted hail, ice, sleet, and snow. As I worked on the end of the driveway, I took a shovelful off each time I walked back up by the house. Three bites in, significant weight had been moved, and it didn’t feel like I’d done that much work. Right.
You don’t know how good this kind of slavery feels. The pain is excruciating, yeah, but that’s part of the fun, right?
I haven’t even started on the lawn areas yet. It’s going to be borderline freezing for the next few days, so lots should melt down.
I didn’t put my law school inna can on fb, did I. shit. I keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
I don’t, like, “discover” bands. I pay attention to all the same channels that any broke music freak would be on. I’m not online as much of the day as I suspect many are, however.
Why do I fucking babble so much. God, shut up. This is why you don’t get laid, retard. Blah, blah, blah. Eventually, you’re gonna offend someone, but then you keep going until you’ve offended every last person on the planet. My body hurts. Can anyone help fix this?
p.s. So, I’m almost thinking I should get my second desktop fired up (see if it works, anyway). I have a ton of CD’s to rip. I need a big portable hd.
I found this (south?) Korean dance crew on YouTube, and they got me wondering, do my videos properly represent my dance style, capability, and general worthlessness. Yup.
I should watch those.
So, I keep starting every sentence with So. So? I had a vision of a clip of one of my oddly non-musical rants what got chopped up lengthwise, cross-wise, de-contextualized, tribialized, and crank-torqued. I dunno. I did a guest spot, came in and once again sputtered randomly, audio chunks of my own voice, though highly de-contextualized. It was a happy song, and the crowd new the words, so everyone was like falling over laughing. Lotsa people got laid after that party.
Twitter, I’m lonely. Go make me some friends.
It’s …woord. I wonder how many times I’ve gotten that wrong. Sorry.
Your whole childhood is ruined now because you associated with a red-headed weirdo who still happens to be a red-headed weirdo. I bet you didn’t expect me to be a broke, isolated loser, either. Maybe you did. I suppose if you did, the hair wouldn’t be that much of a surprise, eh? Whatever. Thanks for saying hello.
Comment: “officially infatuated”.
I made a video today. I should watch that. I’ve made worse.