|
|
|
Dear Hallmark company;
Hello. I have written these poems that I think would be perfect for your Valentine's Day card line. I hope you will consider making them by next year, and I really think that I would be an asset to your company, especially if you paid me a lot of money. Here are some samples.
I'm sorry I cheated,
And you got my STD;
So for Valentine's Day,
The penicillin's on me.
Love (in six to eight weeks),
your name here
So I ******** your roommate,
And it's making you blue,
But in my defence, hun,
She's hotter than you.
I'll ******** you now though,
your name here
We hooked up, I never called,
What more can I say?
I only saw you naked once,
And I think it turned me gay.
Got any brothers?
your name here
On this Valentine's Day,
I'll take you on a date,
If you'd just wash your hair,
And maybe lose some weight.
Ten pounds'll do!
your name here
Obviously these cards can be adjusted for the gender of the receiver. I am not an artist, but I have a few ideas about appropriate pictures to accompany the text. I would accept a small comission if you are interested in purchasing my cards, and I hope to hear from you soon.
B.
 B.longimanus · Tue Feb 19, 2008 @ 10:11pm · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
So I was gonna write about the time I almost played with the trains, and then this entry turned into a kind of suicide thing...basically it had to go. I'm tired, depressed and stressed out about exams. There's nothing I'd rather do right now than learn to hibernate. However, I'm not gonna depress the hell out of my imaginary readers by writing about that kind of s**t. Look at a 15 year old's myspace page if you're into that garbage.
I'm in a very confessional mood right now, but there's nothing I feel comfortable confessing, not even to the faceless internet people that aren't reading this. So let me instead talk about...uh...
Okay, confession time. I just remembered something kinda embarassing that I don't really publicize but probably can't come back to bite me in the a** later. I'm currently studying honours biology at arguably the best college (we call it a university here) in my country. I'm in third year, it's going okay. I'm not sure how much I like biology some times, but I'm not about to drop out now. No, none of that is the embarassing part.
The confession is: when I was little, my dream job was waitress.
So if this whole scientist thing doesn't work out, in a few years, you might find me at a restaurant near you. I'll be the one holding the big tray and grinning.
Can I take your order?
B.
B.longimanus · Sun Dec 09, 2007 @ 09:13am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
My grandmother's birthday is coming up.
Every year it's the same thing. I am dragged home from my life in college to visit someone who is basically a mean old lady because she might not make the next birthday. Well, fine. I can play nice.
But it also means I'm going to be forced to play the piano for anyone who happens to be attending this shindig. I USED to play, and pretty well I guess. I took lessons for nine years, passed a bunch of the exams, the whole deal. But I've been in college (piano-less) for three years now. I don't play anymore. It takes me almost the entire summer to get anywhere near the level I was at before I left home. More annoyingly, my sister still lives at home, with the piano. SHE could play. But no, for some reason they won't ask her.
So they'll ask me to play and nana will give that look and I'll be forced to give it the old college try. It will sound like s**t. A third-rate player piano that a drunk had poured his beer into could do better than me after a few months of not playing.
And it will be "another" and "another" and "one more" because they expect me to be able to remember the thirty or so songs I used to know by heart until all that's left is Old MacDonald, the extended dance-mix version. And no one wants to hear that.
Obviously, they'll tell me how good I sound. "Have you been playing at all at your school?" Clearly not. "It would be a shame to lose your skill." Too late. "Do you want to play another song for me?" ******** no.
But I will. And as I play I'll remember the good times...being forced to play for hours as I cried because I hated it...playing until my fingers were stiff and sore to prepare for exams...slamming my finger in the car door on the way to my last piano exam...the piano teacher hitting my hands when I used the wrong fingering...ahh, youth.
The only bright side is that they are all going deaf. I could play with my feet and they probably couldn't tell the difference.
What key is Heart and Soul in?
B.longimanus · Sun Nov 04, 2007 @ 02:44am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Why I hate Ann Radcliffe.
First off, she's not a Gaian. And no, she's not a singer, actress or some freakish amalgamation of the two plus a robot like Paris Hilton, no, she's an author. And not even a recent author (or authoress, as she would have preferred). She was born in 1764 and is almost certainly dead by now. Why I hate her is perfectly clear though; her writing sucks.
I could say that about a lot of authors, but most of those authors didn't get critical acclaim, a huge fan base and forced down my throat in a deadful parody of an English Lit class that I regret ever taking.
Second year university at one of the top three universities in my country. I'm a Bio major, but taking an English course because I've always loved English, it's easy, and the course is called 'Fantasy.' Come on! Fantasy! It should be the most awesome course that ever awesomed.
Sigh.
The reading list has been:
Utopia (Thomas Moore) - arguably the first fantasy ever written, though not a novel per se, because it has no plot
A Sicilian Romance (Ann Radciffe) - look at the title, is the word Fantasy there? No. It takes place in our world and has so many ridiculous plot contrivances that it would neve be published today.
The Hound of the Baskervilles (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) - again, not fantasy
The Hobbit (Tolkein) - at last, a fantasy novel! And an awesome one. But it's a kids book and everyone and their dog has analysed it in some form already
Voyage of the Dawn Treader (CS Lewis) - aha! Another fantasy novel. And another kids novel. Gee, sensing a pattern here?
1984 (Orwell) - I guess this counts as a fantasy, although I'd call it more science fiction. I have been wanting to read it thugh, so I won't complain too loudly.
So. We have this reading list and I've read half the books before, the other half is NOT FANTASY. But they are legitimately important to the development of fantasy, I guess.
Except for that uber-shitty Sicilian Romance.
Why it is horrible:
1) The author clearly did no research into the time period she was attempting to write about, or the how the world is set up. Monks and nuns live in the same building? Umm...no? And one of the characters plays the painoforte. If I wrote about Amish people and their electric guitar solos, do you think people would say I wrote a great novel?
2) Coincidences! The main criticism of Jane Eyre is that she escapes from Mr. Rochester's house only to some how end up at (SPOILER) her cousin's. Wow. In this book the characters keep losing and finding each other all across the countryside. One ends up in a nunnery and is immediately befriended by the sister of her true love. Madame de whatever is kicked out of the castle and comes across her escaped charge at random.
3) They ignore the older sister. Okay, the book is about the younger one, fine. So why put the older one in at all? She spends almost the entire novel locked in her room because the younger one ran away. She's in the castle with her evil father and does her sister or brother care? No. For that matter, she could have married the vicious count, she was supposed to be beautiful. But no. Nobody likes the older sister. Fine.
4) The main character is a moron. She has three responses to everyday life: to faint, to cry or to blush. And because of that men fall in love with her? I wanted to hit her. She was boring! And she kept abandoning the people that had helped her whenever danger threatened. I get that it was supposed to be proper behaviour for a woman at the time, but she was boring as hell. Why not make the book about her brother, who fought bandits, than a stupid b***h who spent half the novel in a faint.
There, I'm done ranting. This is one of the few posts that are going to be serious and I promise that when I gather my strength, the next one will be more lighthearted.
Fare thee well, constant reader!
B.
B.longimanus · Sun Jan 28, 2007 @ 03:23am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
People in High Places that I don't like
I know, I know, making a list like this would be the thing that would most de-legitimize me on this site. I can take comfort in the fact that absolutely no oneis reading my journal, and so they will never know my shame.
I mean really, there is no way that someone would side with me anyway. I would be just one of the dozens, probably hundrends of people that have attacked a 'prommie' for no apparent reason. I have a reason, it isn't an apparent one, but let me assure you it is there.
So.
Start with why I don't like these people, shall we? Wait, let me rephrase that. Why I don't like these Gaians. No, even more, these personae. See, they could have mule accounts that I don't have a problem with, or be perfectly nice people in real life...hey, it's possible!...so I don't want to go off about what a hellbitch someone is if they were having an off day.
Basically, I see these people as disengenious. They protray themselves one way, and then immediately act another if someone disagrees with them. I've had debates and arguements on this site, and I assume there were no hard feelings for the most part. These people, I found to be offensive. Not necessarily for what they said, so much as how they acted and misrepresented themselves.
1) Anyway, the main one is D. No, I can't remember how to spell her user name. I could look it up but that's a level of stalker-ish dedication I'm not willing to achieve. She's the Religion Forum Helper and she falls back on personal attacks when someone doesn't agree with her. I posted in a thread and she repeatedly picked me apart, and then attacked the thread I made. It is possible that my points were badly worded (hell, probable) but saying, to paraphrase "I guess you'd rather be ignorant," was a bit much from someone supposedly helping a forum. Disagreeing with someone is not ignorant, especially on a topic that is as open to interpretation as religion. Also, she didn't do anything to help the forum that I saw. She quoted posts (not just mine) and ripped them apart.
Do I think Gaia, the mods, other people in the forum etc. give a damn that I won't be going back to the Religion Forum. No, of course I don't. I'm just some guy that was around for a few days. I assumed that the religion forum, being affiliated with the ED, would be open for friendly debate. Silly me.
EDIT: As it turns out, a lot of people hate her. Good, I'm not being overly sensitive. BUT she is now also a mod and has all the mod-powers at her disposal to abuse. From what I understand, she is abusing them and there have been complaints. Will anything be done about her? No, of course not. Well, I can pray she gets leprosy but so far there's been no luck. I'll have to hire a witch.
2) Ahh, this one will destroy my reputation if it ever comes to light...and I ever have a reputation. I won't even say her name (because there are spies everywhere) but she's from the GD, although I haven't seen her or her mule with that poem in her sig in a while. This person comes off as sweetness and light, but bitches at people that disagree with her. In short, she uses her 'prommie' status for evil, not good. She has a reputation for being really nice and she is, to her friends, to other people the claws come out. She's catty and supercilious, and I would rather deal with almost any other gimmik/prommie on the site than this self-centered janus.
Boy do I feel better! Let me state explicitly that although I don't like these people, this journal entry is as far as it will ever, EVER go. I'm not crazy, just annoyed. Sooo...to my imaginary readers, let me just say that I made a list. I gave no names and although I don't like these people, I bear them no ill will. I will avoid them when I can and suggest others do the same, but maybe that's unfair too. Maybe these people are perfectly nice to everyone but me, or were having an off day, or don't like Gaians with blue hair. Who knows?
So I take it back. By all means befriend these people. If all else fails, it can't hurt to do a bit of social climbing, right? They'd be the people to help you with that much more than I would. And one would assume that they are capable of being polite to some people at least, so maybe you'll get lucky. I hope so.
B.
B.longimanus · Sat Nov 25, 2006 @ 12:19am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
I've got it! I finally figured out why emos cut themselves and I absolutely have to share it with the thousands of fans of my journal. The answer is simple: they are too creative.
No, they are. Think about it. What other group is so famous for it's poetry and music, it's art and mode of dress. These are all outlets but they aren't enough. They need more.
This is where the cutting comes in. If emos didn't cut, their heads would get so full of creativity that they'd explode, spattering grey matter and bad poetry all over the walls like the red decor they favor.
So there you have it, the only logical explanation. You may now resume your pathetic little lives.
B.longimanus · Wed Oct 11, 2006 @ 05:50am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Could you come over and cut the grass for us?" It sounded like the voice of time itself, or maybe death, but I recognized it as my grandfather. My options were simple, yes or no.
To say yes meant a day of old. I'd talk old, act old and eat old food. I'd get to have endless conversations about his cat's habits, or the weather. I'd spend time looking out the window and watching the birds fight over the food he'd left out. I'd eat things that were mushy and tasted like sand. If old age is contagious, I'd definately catch it.
But the alternative is worse. Say I say "No, no I won't cut your damn grass. In fact, ******** the grass." He'd die. He really would. He'd try and cut the grass himself and have a heart attack in the hot sun. And it would be all my fault.
Decisions, decisions.
So I said sure. "Okay, when do you want me to come over?" "What's that? Ridiculously early in the morning?" "Sounds good, I'll be there."
So over I go. Now I have to tell you, my grandfather doesn't know my real age. Neither of them do, grandfather or grandmother. I mean sure, they?ve been to every birthday party I ever endured, but they still don't get it.
Can I start the lawnmower on my own? Well, yes and no. Yes, in that I do it every time my grandfather isn't around. No, in that I have to pretend I need his help so he doesn't feel useless and too removed from the whole lawn-mowing process. Ahh, a web of deceit.
So he starts it for me and I'm cutting the grass. But he doesn't trust me. It isn't a "the moment I turn my back B. will grab my wallet" mistrust, no. It's more a "the moment I turn my back B.'s foot will be under the lawnmower and then in pieces on the lawn. And if I don't get there fast, he'll get rid of the other one the same way." It's as if he thinks I hate my feet. Or hate cutting the lawn so much that I'd mutilate myself to get out of it. Or maybe it's just what he'd do in my place.
Whatever.
After an hour and a half of intensive grass-cutting, I'm nearly done. So he goes inside to ask my grandmother to start making lunch. Now, I like lunch, really I do. My favorite noon-time meal, if truth be told. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm perfectly capable of getting my own lunch, or, failing that, I'm willing to eat more than a melted cheese sandwich with a glass of milk.
Variety is the spice of life, right? But to them, I'm still the four year old that needs the crusts cut off. I manage to hang on to the crusts and my sanity long enough to finish lunch. The cat and the weather are exhausted as topics, the birds aren't co-operative, I'm about ready to leave.
But there is one part of yard left. Under the canoe that hasn't been used in about five hundred years, the grass is still long and luxuriant. It thought it was so safe. Little did it know that today was the day of reckoning.
I re-start the lawnmower (perfectly fine because my grandfather was out of earshot), and get to work at this completely inaccessible piece of lawn.
Grass finally cut, I survey my work. It looks good. The only thing left is to push the still moving lawnmower over the walkway to ensure that every speck of grass is safely out of the way. Fine.
I look around. Nobody. I am completely alone in the yard with the lawnmower. Quickly I stick both feet into the blades.
That'll get rid of the ********!
B.longimanus · Thu Jun 15, 2006 @ 06:44am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
I had the sudden urge for a journal yet I have nothing to say in it. Never fear! I'll be back someday, should fate lead me on this path again. 'Till then, I'll leave you with something a very dear friend told me. Well, not a *very* dear friend. Really it was this guy that followed me around and broke into my room when I wasn't home. Quite the character, that guy. I remember this one time, I was running down a bike path at four in the morning while he chased me with a butcher knife...man, he laughed and laughed. Like a child, really. A homicidal child with a weapon. Good times. I tell you, those are the type of thing you never forget.
Anyway, I was going to leave you with a quote and I keep on gabbing away. I'm just so glad someone finally found me and removed the gag. Yeah, my life is pretty boring so I don't think people are going to read this more than once or twice, which comes back to my title.
Waugh! Off topic again! Focus B, focus. What I wanted to share was something he told me, that really had an effect on my life. Made me the person I am today. So here it is:
I'mrightbehindyouI'mrightbehindyouI'mrightbehindyouI'mrightbehindyou
Thanks for reading!
B.longimanus · Sat Apr 15, 2006 @ 03:22am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
