My name is Evman. I call myself Evman because it is a character I created. An alter ego that represents what I would do if I wasn't such a goody two shoes. Evman is a figment, but he is part of me. These journals will be the day to day journeys of me Evman. Expect nothing and you won't be disapointed. I don't expect anyone to actually read these. In the off chance someone does...Welcome.

Want a little history? No? Too bad.

I, Evman, was born in suburban pit hole in Texas. My birth was taken place in a small media tech room in highschool. My creater, the real Ev, created me with a fellow class mate for a school project. We were to make a cartoon of Kevman (The other student) and Evman (myself). The cartoon would be a super success and all would cheer and howl at our great masterpeice. But things did not pass that way. I was double crossed by this fellow student. Now weither it was intentional or not I could not tell, but Kevman ditched the project and all that was his duty to do. All of which I, Evman, was relying on. So I had to finish it myself. I had to finish my own story. Otherwise I would not exsist. Well by God I did it and it WAS a success...and I gave that petty Kevman the credit for his part he did not do just so he could pass. But see the joke was on him. I lived on and have since taken up an entire series of cartoons and shorts while...Kevman...well...he's nothing. But a lump of a person collecting dust in this kids brain that I live in. But enough of that.

Now I have a world of my own. Evman has become a well known name around this small town and among the friends of my creator. I've become like an alter-ego which ironically isn't much different from the real Ev. And so I go forth living life, makeing jokes, and usually messing things up. And here you are to hear about them. Hope you enjoy.

Today: Monday (The Satan Day)

So my misery started once I woke up this morning. Abnormally groggy I was. The night before was blurry but I remember distinctive gun shots and grunts and moans. I remember car chases and tank battles. I slowly looked up to find my Tv with the ever so annoying simple words of failure, "Game Over." I remebered then that I had fallen asleep playing my new game. This Halo II that has taken over my life withen 3 hours of waiting in line for it and 6 hours of none stop playing it. I got dressed in the usual fashion...as in very slowly. I took my shower but couldn't keep myself awake long enough to really enjoy it. My trip to school was an uneventful one. I slept mostly. Well of course I didn't sleep while driving! I carpool of course. The usual people were there to bug me. The druggies, the drunkies, the tree huggin hippies...what else would you expect of an Art School? I shoved my way through the endless zombie hords of burnt out minds and distasteful lives until I finally reached my class room. As I stood in the doorway I realized...I haven't done my homework. I then smiled and stepped lightly out of the room trying to not grab any more attention than absolutly needed. I got into the "Print Lab" where basically all things are done. I cut out my drawing which was the base of my homework and did a half a** job of putting on a nice board and glueing it on and blah blah blah. I got back and sat down unoticed by the teacher. Her monotone drone continued as if I wasn't there at all. I hung my artwork up on the wall for critique with the others. I slept through most of the critique until she finally reached mine. I at least kept one eye open to ensure her that I'm in the least bit "interested" in here constant jabber. She said some nice things about my artwork but the majority of it consisted of the usual, "It's not clean enough," "it's not happy enough," "it's not what I told you to do," "This drawing makes me want to puke," "OH GOD! I need a smoke..." You know the ritual...After a long and drawn out beating from the teacher my artwork decided it wasn't shittie enough and decided that the glue on the back should give loose and fall to peices. My artwork fell to the ground. The teacher looked down at it and started going on even MORE about the "Need to make your art cleaner blah blah blah."
I don't mean to sound as if I am better than her. It's just that I can't take anything she says for real because she is like a circus freak. She must have like 6 lungs or something because she never stops talking. I try to listen I really do...but give 10 minutes of...

"The correct typographical nicaphoric doobie fanpick is need for the lettering in the next demistupper heorigriphic signature with the extra touch of graphical knowledge one can understand the tyranity of a nazi s**t blargh doogie gooogie gah gah I'm so boreing wa wa wa wawa wawawa wawa wawaa wa awa wawa..."

I swear...that's a direct quote...

Anyways my current position now...I'm sitting here in an empty class room wasteing time until my ride gets here. Only...2 hours more to go...yay...

well I guess I'll find something to do with my time now...maybe I'll actually go interact with people online oooo it's almost like I have a social life. I'll get into that some other time. Welp...if any of you have anything to say about my journal for instance...it sucks...I hate you...you should die...I want your babies...or my favorite...Please for the love of god will you shut up before you kill us all. I'd be ever so happy to hear from you...so that I can return your email with a flagerant insulting poem.

Tha email is ViRuZ105@hotmail.com

Call me Evman it's my name...

Toodles

With Loving Rage,
Evman