Resurrected
February 10, 2008
I have now officially moved to:
The Chronicles of Random: Resurrection
______________________
Its not the finished product but it’ll do for now.
**Update: I fixed the link
Damn! I’m tyrannosaurus wrecked!
February 4, 2008
Mmmmmm! Mmmmm! I love sugarfree redbull!!!! Love it!
I just had a can (which I haven’t had in months - because I quit caffeine). I guess I just unquit caffiene. I love the stuff! It tastes awesome and I feel energetic, my foot wont stop tapping. I feel really good. But as is well known “what goes up, must come down”, so I know I’m going to feel pretty shitty quite soon.
But how great it is when you’re up! That’s the catch with drugs (yes, caffeine is a drug): Even if you don’t feel like crap when you are off of them, you know somethings missing when you are without them. You know that you could feel just a little bit better if you had a little. Just a little. Just a little bit to get your head straight *chugs redbull*.
Okay, I am exaggerating my love for redbull but I think that that little intro paved the way really nicely to today’s topic. Drugs! Yay!
Don’t get too excited all you crackwhores and junkies… I just found some interesting drug related links and stories. There’s no free peanutbutter and crack sandwiches here.
______________
Will your potential employer drug test you? Find out!
__________________
Pot vending machines -Its about time!
Marijuana therapy is a part of anger managament? Really? So that’s why I’m angry all the time! This whole time all I needed was some pretty purple haze to calm me down. You can contribute to my therapy by donating to the Prophet Anger Management Fund (soon to accept PayPal payments!).
____________________
In case you’re a lazy mo’fo’ that didn’t bother clicking on the link there is one thing you HAVE TO read:
Will these lollipops get me wasted? - Hell fucking yes they will! You’ll be sent on an intergalactic trip to Holyshitland as soon as you take a lick. The crackhead on the street corner tried one and said it was better than smoking rocks. Try one and you’ll slice an ear off and give it to a hooker before you can say “Damn, I’m tyrannosaurus wrecked, what the hell happened to my ear?”
________________________
That is poetry right there people! Read and learn! Those words up there are classic. I’m probably going to be quoting them for the next few years!
“You’ll be sent on an intergalactic trip to Holyshitland as soon as you take a lick!”
” Damn, I’m tyrannosaurus wrecked!”
Hahahahaha! Love it!
_____________
Damn y’all, my boss walked in and I had to go to his office where I received the “you are the future, it’s your time to shine” lecture. Its now 3.30 and it looks like I’m not going to get out until atleast 5. Damnit!
Save the Spam
February 3, 2008
And so, just like Jesus, I have returned!
The 411:
I reached a point at work, and in my life, where I felt completely blah. Only those who have felt it truly know the blah feeling. Anyway, I decided that I was going to quit this dead-end job. And I went to my boss and I told him that I was quitting. He suggested I take a vacation. And so I thought “okay, I’ll take a paid vacation and if I want to quit afterwards I will”. And so I took a month off. I was stuck here in Kuwait the whole time, which sucked monkey balls, but it was a vacation nonetheless. During this month, I decided that even though this job is retarded (TIMMY!) atleast I get paid decently for the shit I do, my coworkers are pleasant enough, and I can fuck around on the internet. Also, it would be really hard to ragga3 unemployment on a resume or grad application. And so I decided that I would give it another go.
And so, today is my first day back. Everything is pretty much the same, except there is a new Kuwaiti guy working with us now, seems alright. And the work is the same retarded crap, as in it is literally THE SAME. The stuff I had been working on more than a month ago is still not complete. How ridiculous is that?
One important thing has changed: I now have realized that this is a job and not a career. I know that the only reason I’m here is because I need to be. I don’t need to love it, I need to bear it, atleast for now anyway.
And with my job comes the return of my blogging.
Wow, and with that I have suddenly come up with the name of my new blog (I’ve run out of space on this one, remember?) :
And so my new blog is born -
The Chronicles of Random: Resurrection
tcorr.wordpress.com
There’s nothing on there yet, I’ll let you know when its up and running….
Anyway, I started this post with the intent of discussing two things.
First, spam. No, not the processed meat in a can, I mean the crap that gets sent to you via email or as blog comments (blam) trying to sell you junk. You know, “Breast Enhancement Cream: Guaranteed 2 cups in 2 hours!”
Why is it that most of the spam you get is sexual? Porn links, penis enlargement, breast enlargement… etc.
The porn links I might understand, but who would buy some mysterious cream that makes your body parts swell off of the internet? I wonder how many people actually buy that stuff online.
I have to admit that I actually found one blam funny. It was really long and it started off as usual:
“Nude girls sex lolita orgy oral anal blonde pussy gay underage nude midget….”…etc
But then it took an unexpected turn:
“dick threesome refrigerator television radiator….”
That’s some weird ass porn if it includes a radiator and a refrigerator. I wish I’d saved the spam, but alas, I did not.
Now, secondly, I’d like to discuss this whole whole plan to segregate the private schools and universities: WHAT THE FUCK WRONG WITH THIS FUCKING COUNTRY? This country is exponentially regressing.
I don’t agree with segregation in public schools (its the basis of why most of the guys and girls here are so fucked up), but I guess since I’m not paying for it I have no right to complain. But if I pay for my kids to go to a co-ed school, what fucking right do you have to say otherwise? If you don’t want your kids to go to a co-ed school, don’t fucking send them there. Why do my kids have to suffer because of your lame-ass religious issues?
I’ve always thought this shit was ridiculous. I remember when I was in middle school my private co-ed school had a barbecue one evening on a weekend. It was nothing especially interesting, there was bbq, food, and music. I think 3 people may have danced in total. None of them within 10 meters of each other and each surrounded by their friends (of the same sex).
The next thing we hear at school is that some kid told his religious parents that there was a party at school. And that his mom went to the ministry of education and complained about the sin that was occurring at the school. What the fuck? You have the audacity to send your kid to a co-ed school and then complain about an after-school party? I would understand if her kid had to attend mandatory exotic dance classes at school, but this was a completely optional afterschool activity. You have no right to go and ruin it for everybody (which she did because the ministry made a big deal about it). Bitch.
All of the people that force these retarded laws upon us are bitches! Bitches, the lot of you! Fucking useless government and retarded general population… *mumble**grumble*.
The government passes shitty laws and then placates the people by giving them shit like unnecessary pay raises or oil money gifts. And then thanks to the extra cash, which everybody knows is out there, prices go up. And then the people start to complain. Fucking idiots. Its simple economics. But seeing as segregating schools is the priority for the ministry of education I’m not surprised that most people are not educated in the basics of economics. Its so sad that education is the last thing that the Ministry of Education is actually concerned with.
I would really love it if somebody could point out something that the government is actually doing well. I like the social security system but when I think of the millions of retards that it supports, that basically don’t do shit all their lives, it would probably be better if it were different. I also always liked the fact that the government supplied free healthcare. But once you actually see the grimy insides of public hospitals and how fucking unorganized and inefficient they are I think that that the government can take the healthcare system and shove it. I’ll leave out the horror stories about death and mistreatment by incompetent and overworked public doctors. I’ll tell you a simple tale about me trying to go see an endocrinologist. I have to go to the mustawsaf who will schedule an appointment for me to see an internal medicine doctor in 3 months and then, God-willing, that doctor will give me an appointment 3 months from then to see an endocrinologist.
6 months… lovely.
This country is going to the shitter. Bitches.
And on that sweet note I bid you adieu!
*Yawn*
November 15, 2007
I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. I just can’t seem to sleep at night. And its really starting to get to me. Anyway, I came into work the other way and I fell asleep. I could feel it coming and I couldn’t stop it. I can never stop it. All I can do is try to make myself as comfortable as I can. I’ve fallen asleep in so many random places. I’ve fallen asleep on a small couch in a bathroom before, which I decided to stop doing once I found out that that was where some homeless people slept. *shudder* Gross homeless people, not the clean ones, if they exist. And I fell asleep on a tile floor once (which wasn’t as bad as I expected- its really good for your back). Anyway, back to my original story: So I fell asleep at work. As refreshing as it was, I was worried about how I could “ragga3″ that situation if I was caught. And so I managed to find a number of excuses I could use if I ever fall asleep again…
5 Best Things to Say When Caught Sleeping at Your Desk:
5. “They told me at the Blood Bank this might happen.”
4. “This is just a 15 minute power nap they raved about in the time management course you sent me to.”
3. “Whew! Guess I left the top off the Whiteout. You probably got here just in time.”
2. “Did you ever notice sound coming out of these keyboards when you put your ear down real close?”
And the NUMBER ONE best thing to say if you get caught sleeping at your desk…
1. Raise your head slowly and say, “…in Jesus’ name, Amen.”
______________
Here are a couple of links. Entertain yourselves:
Death and calculators aside…
November 8, 2007
Wooohoo! It’s Thursday bitches!!!!! I feel really good today. Even though I probably shouldn’t because somebody that works here just passed away yesterday. Allah yer7ama. And what’s really bad about it is what I thought when I first heard; “I wonder if they’ll give me his office”. I know, I know, I’m bad. But it isn’t my fault. First of all, the fact that I’ve been working here for 7 months and they still haven’t technically given me an office makes me feel that I need to take advantage of whatever opportunity comes my way. They’ve jaded me. I mean for God’s sake, I’ve been working here for 7 months and only today did they give me my own calculator. And I work in a motherfucking financial institution, a calculator is supposed to be the first thing you get. For 7 months I’ve been clicking away on my Windows calculator. I know I could’ve brought my own calculator, but I think that would’ve just increased my output and efficiency and they obviously don’t want that around here OTHERWISE THEY WOULD’VE GIVEN ME A FRIGGIN’ CALCULATOR.
Anyway, death and calculators aside, I feel pretty good today!
I think I would feel a little better if I ruin your days…. MUHAHAHAA!!! So I’m going to tell you a little story about myself and then lecture you (the lecture basically applies to females and some gay men):
People who know me know that I’m not exactly physically vain. i.e. I never ever put on tons of make up, most of the time I don’t wear any makeup at all, I don’t insist on wearing the latest fashions, I basically try to stay kinda simple and zen. A couple of months ago I got a huge lecture from a friend of mine basically stating: “Prophet! You’re a girl! You have to beautify yourself! You have to take care of your nails! Go get regular manicures!…etc.”
This girl’s nails are always manicured to perfection. They are always painted. Never a chip. She is more than a regular at the top nail places (N-Bar, N-Syle…etc.). And I have to admit her nails look good.
My nails aren’t bad. I always keep them clean, usually cut short, and I never bite them. I think they are okay. They’re normal.
Anyway, after her lecture, I think “Okay, how bad can it be? I’ll go to N-Bar every week or so”. Even though I hate being stuck in a chair for more than hour (I get butt-cramps).
Fast-forward a month or two. I start thinking: I’m not exactly into this, I don’t enjoy it getting it done, I’m trying to simply myself and my life not make it more complicated, why the hell am I doing this again?
So I decide I’m done with this whole getting manicures. If I want to paint my nails every once in a while I can do it myself. So that’s it I decide to take the polish off my nails. Lo and behold! My nails are yellowish! WTF? They were never like this! I look like I have freaking jaundice!
Basically, after researching it turns out nail polish tends to stain your nails. I was thinking, nail polish is basically a bunch of colors and chemicals that you are putting on your body, is staining really the worst of it? And guess what? It isn’t.
I’ll give you the summary of the worst of it: A chemical used in many nail polishes called DBP (dibutyl phthalate) which increases durability of nail polish has been shown to be a carcinogen and result in underdeveloped genitals and fertility problems in unborn males. So basically, it’ll increase your chances of getting cancer and your sons are going to have smaller dicks.
Now, I don’t want you to completely freak out, because at this moment there is still much debate concerning DBP. Lots of the companies that use it state that the amount the humans are exposed to is not enough to have these effects. Other environmental and consumer groups disagree. Anyway, there is research supporting both sides. The one thing that is undisputed is that your body does absorb the chemical. The long-term effects at this point are unclear.
So ladies, and gay men that get their nails polished, if you consistently polish your nails I truly think you are putting yourself at risk. Therefore don’t come complaining to me when your sons can’t please women, I warned you.
But don’t worry ladies! There is still hope for your vanity! Some cosmetics manufacturers have started making nail polish free of DBP. “Estee Lauder is among some major brands that have done that. But many others have not, including salon favorite OPI, cult fave Essie and ubiquitous bargain brand Sally Hansen. In 2004, OPI was forced to remove DBP from its polishes sold in Europe after the European Union banned it along with many other personal-care product ingredients known or strongly suspected of causing cancer, mutations or birth defects.”
Essie… Sound familiar? That’s right! Its that wonderful stuff they use at n-bar and n-style. Cancer, yum!
Now, some of you poor girls are probably sobbing in your seats, asking the question: “Why? Why Prophet? Why would companies sell what they know to be cancerous products? They wouldn’t, would they?”
My response is: Yeah they would retards! TIMMY! Why wouldn’t they? If it makes their product “better” and they could get away with it, why not? Do you remember how many years it took for the tobacco industry to admit that cigarettes were a carcinogen? Why should they admit to selling a dangerous product if it makes them billions? And, yes, they make billions upon billions. Thanks to the vanity of women the cosmetics industry is ONE OF THE MOST PROFITABLE INDUSTRIES on the planet.
Anyway, the power is yours!
Earth!
Fire!
Wind!
Water!
Heart!
GO PLANET!
With your powers combined I am Captain Planet!
Captain Planet, he’s our hero,
Gonna take pollution down to zero,
He’s our powers magnified,
And he’s fighting on the planet side
Captain Planet, he’s our hero,
Gonna take pollution down to zero,
Gonna help him put us under,
Bad guys who like to loot and plunder
“You’ll pay for this Captain Planet!”
(chanting)
We’re the planeteers,
You can be one too!
‘Cause saving our planet is the thing to do,
Looting and polluting is not the way,
Hear what Captain Planet has to say:
“THE POWER IS YOURS!”
What my co-workers have actually walked in on me doing
Mini-Video Time! In this one, a guy tries to snatch this tiny lady’s purse. But he gets owned! You go girl!!!
PS: The crap make-up you put on your face can’t be that much better. According to an article I recently read in Bazaar magazine, women that apply makeup everyday absorb I think something like 4 lbs. of chemicals every year. SHASTY (Shitty and Nasty!!)!!!
Hi Hitler
November 5, 2007
Soooooooooo….. they hired two new people. I told you that I met one of them previously. Anyway, it turns out that there are two. Just what we need in this division, more Indian people. I freaking work in little Bombay, its ridiculous. And most of these Indians are seriously sly and mit3aqed bastards. Now, now, calm down. Any of you that have worked with them know its true. I’m offended that any of you would call me racist. I’m completely offended. I’m not just any racist. I’m an equal opportunity racist. I hate all races. White, Black, Asian, Mexican, Indian, Amphibian. You name it, I hate it. I’m a hater. And I’m a habitual line stepper.
Anyway, one of the new guys looks like an Indian version of Hitler. Which is really funny to me.
God damnit, I start this post yesterday and I’m trying to continue it today and I have no idea how I felt and what I was trying to say. So I’m starting over:
Let me tell you what happened to me yesterday: Once I got home after work I received a phonecall from my unit head telling me he needs to access some numbers that I have on my PC for my boss. So he wants my login and password. Now you’d think that that wouldn’t be a big deal except in my life everything turns into some kinda joke.
Okay, login is easy. Its my name. My password was a little bit harder to give, seeing as it was “rafiqsuxballs”. Looooool. Goddamnit! That password was for my eyes alone and for my personal pleasure, nobody was supposed to see it. Oh well, I tried to raga3 the password. I spelt it out for him slowly hoping he wouldn’t put it together. He probably did get it but he didn’t say anything, thank God.
Anyway, just thought I’d share that with you. I’m sure you got a kick out of it, just like I did.
Lets see…. what else? Oh yeah, I wanna talk about Flugtag. So after some coaxing, my friends convinced me to “atleast checkout” Flugtag. So we went. I left before any of the planes even took off. It was just too ghetto for me. Sitting on the beach when it was kinda empty was okay. But once the people started coming, I couldn’t handle it. There were kids taking off their clothes and jumping into the water with just their underwear on. Wain ga3deen? That is not cool. It was just gross being around the people that were there. I couldn’t handle it. I felt almost suffocated by the 2araff. It could’ve been much worse, I’ll admit, but it wasn’t something I could suffer through. So I got up and left. And besides, I heard nobody died or got hurt or anything… so whats the point? Isn’t that the only reason people go to those things?
Anyway, it’s been a while since I’ve posted stuff like the darwin awards. So let’s do that:
Stoopid
According to the Knight-Ridder News Service, the inscription on the metal bands used by the United States Department of the Interior to tag migratory birds has been changed.
The small metal bands used to bear the address of the Washington Biological Survey, which was abbreviated: “Wash. Biol. Surv.” until recently when the agency received a letter from an Arkansas outdoorsman.
The letter read: “Dear sirs, While camping last week I shot one of your birds. I think it was a crow. I followed the cooking instructions on the leg tag, and I want to tell you, it was horrible.”
The bands are now marked “Fish and Wildlife Service.”
Who’s Really A Girl’s Best Friend?The following is a short, amusing, and true story, as seen recently by millions of viewers on a Spanish television channel.
The parents of a teenage girl decided to put their daughter’s name forward for a popular surprise game show. She idolized teeny-bopper pop star Ricky Martin, and it was arranged for TV cameras to be discreetly placed throughout the house. The house was then left empty, except for the pop star left hiding in the girls bedroom closet–all set to give the girl a wonderful surprise when she arrived home from school.
Meanwhile, the parents were in the show’s studio, in front of a live audience. Upon coming home from school, the daughter didn’t go striaght to her room and open the closet as expected. Instead, she began to search the house, calling out the names of family members, trying to determine whether she was alone in the house. After deciding she was indeed home alone, the daughter went into the kitchen and took a large container of pate(pa-tay) from the refridgerator–while the TV audience was left wondering just what was going on. The girl then went upstairs to her bedroom, but instead of finding the surprise waiting in the closet, she removed all her clothes, and then spread the pate all over her naughty place. It is important to remember that Ricky Martin is still in the closet, her parents are watching with a room full of strangers, and half of Spain is seeing a nubile young girl, stark naked on the bed, with pate all over her crotch.
As if the situation was not already shocking enough, the daughter then call the family dog to her bedroom, who obediently trots up the stairs to the bedroom and settles down to enjoy his favorite meal. At this point, the broadcast is abruptly cut off, and the girls’ parents are left sitting in a deadly quiet TV studio full of strangers and TV execs, while a few million Spaniards were at home wetting their pants with laughter.
Sales of pate have reportedly skyrocketed.
What we really want to know, though, is what did Ricky Martin do?
The Tale of the Beer Dragon The recent craze for hydrogen beer in Japan is at the heart of a three way lawsuit between unemployed stockbroker Toshira Otoma, the Tike-Take karaoke bar, and the Asaka Beer Corporation. Mr. Otoma is suing the bar and the brewery for selling toxic substances and is claiming damages for grievous bodily harm leading to the loss of his job. The bar is countersuing for defamation and loss of customers.
The Asaka Beer corporation brews “Suiso” brand beer, where the carbon dioxide normally used to add fizz has been replaced by the more environmentally friendly hydrogen gas. A side effect of this has made the beer extremely popular at karaoke sing-along bars and discotheques.
Hydrogen, like helium, is a gas lighter than air. Because hydrogen molecules are lighter than air, sound waves are transmitted more rapidly; individuals whose lungs are filled with the nontoxic gas can speak with an uncharacteristically high voice. Exploiting this quirk of physics, chic urbanites can now sing soprano parts on karaoke sing-along machines after consuming a big gulp of Suiso beer.
The flammable nature of hydrogen has also become another selling point, even though Asaka has not acknowledged that this was a deliberate marketing ploy. This inspired a new fashion of blowing flames from one’s mouth using a cigarette as an ignition source. Many new karaoke videos feature singers shooting blue flames in slow motion, while flame contests take place in pubs everywhere.
“Mr. Otoma has no one to blame but himself. If he had not become drunk and disorderly, none of this would have happened. Our security guards undergo the most careful screening and training before they are allowed to deal with customers” said Mr. Takashi Nomura, Manager of the Tike-Take bar.
“Mr. Otoma drank fifteen bottles of hydrogen beer in order to maximize the size of the flames he could belch during the contest. He catapulted balls of fire across the room that Gojira [Godzilla] would be proud of, but this was not enough to win him first prize since the judgment is made on the quality of the flames and that of the singing, and after fifteen bottles of lager, he was badly out of tune.
“He took exception to the result and hurled blue fireballs at the judge, singeing the front of Mrs. Mifune’s hair, entirely removing her eyebrows and lashes, and ruining the clothes of two nearby customers. None of these people have returned to my bar. When our security staff approached he turned his attentions to them, making it almost impossible to approach him. Our head bouncer had no choice but to hurl himself at Mr. Otoma’s knees, knocking his legs from under him.
Nomura continued, “The laws of physics are not to be disobeyed, and the force that propelled Mr. Otoma’s legs backwards also pivoted around his center of gravity and moved his upper body forward with equal velocity. It was his own fault he had his mouth open for the next belch, his own fault he held a lighted cigarette in front of it and it is own fault he swallowed that cigarette.
“The Tike-Take bar takes no responsibility for the subsequent internal combustion, nor the third degree burns to his esophagus, larynx and sinuses as the exploding gases forced their way out of his body. His consequential muteness and loss of employment are his own fault, Nomura concluded.
Mr. Otoma was unavailable for comment.
Darwin Nominees As we approach the end of 1999, the annual rite of collecting nominees for this years’ Darwin Awards. The Darwin Awards are annually bestowed upon ( the remains of) individuals who have given their all in an effort to improve our gene pool. The Darwin Awards applaud those who have made the ultimate sacrifice of killing themselves by the most extraordinarily stupid means. The Awards commemorate those who find innovatively moronic ways of killing themselves, thereby helping to eliminate undesirable weaknesses from the human gene pool. So, in an effort to make us all feel better about ourselves, here are a few fo the nominees for this year.
SPIN CYCLE
A 39-year-old Charlottesville man died in a freak accident involving his washing machine. According to police reports, Samuel Randolph Strickson was doing laundry when he tried to speed up the process. Strickson apparently tried to stuff approximately 50 pounds of laundry into his washing machine by climbing on top of the washer and attempting to force the clothing into the basin. Strickson then apparently accidentally kicked the washing machine’s ON button. When the machine turned on, Strickson lost his balance and both feet went down into the machine, where they got stuck. The machine started its cycle, and Strickson, unable to free himself, started thrashing around as the machine’s agitator went into gear. Strickson’s head banged against a nearby shelf in the laundry room, knocking over a bottle of bleach, which poured over Strickson’s face, blinding him. Forensic reports say Strickson apparently also swallowed some of the bleach. He then vomited, but was still unable to free himself. Strickson’s dog, then apparently came into the laundry room. At about the same time, according to police, a large box of baking soda fell from the shelf, startling the dog, who then urinated. Urine, like vinegar, is acidic, and the chemical reaction between the urine and the baking soda resulted in “a small explosion,” according to police reports. The dog, however, escaped unharmed. Strickson remained stuck in the washing machine, which eventually went into its high-speed spin cycle, spinning Strickson round at about 70 miles per hour, according to forensic experts. Strickson’s head then smashed against a steel beam behind the washing machine, immediately killing him. A neighbor heard the commotion and called 911, but Strickson was pronounced dead at the scene.
GRAVITY KILLS
A 22-year-old Reston man was found dead yesterday after he tried to use occy straps (the stretchy little ropes with hooks on each end) to bungee jump off a 70-foot railroad trestle, police said. Fairfax County police said Eric A. Barcia, a fast-food worker, taped a bunch of these straps together, wrapped an end around one foot, anchored the other end to the trestle at Lake Accotink Park, jumped … and hit the pavement. Warren Carmichael, a police spokesman, said investigators think Barcia was alone because his car was found nearby. “The length of the cord that he had assembled was greater than the distance between the trestle and the ground,” Carmichael said. Police say the apparent cause of death was “major trauma.” An autopsy is scheduled for later in the week.
LAUNCHED ON THE FOURTH OF JULY …
Three young men visiting Oklahoma were enjoying the coming Fourth of July holiday and wanted to apparently test fire some fireworks. Their only real problem was that their launch pad and seating arrangements were atop a several hundred thousand gallon fuel distillation storage tank. Oddly enough, some fumes were ignited, producing a fireball seen for miles and miles. They were launched, no doubt, countless thousands of feet into the air and were found dead 50 yards from their respective seats.
DON’T TEMPT GOD
A lawyer and two of his buddies were fishing on Caddo Lake in Texas. A lightning storm hit the lake and most of the fisherman immediately headed for the shore. But not our friend the lawyer. He was alone on the rear of his aluminum bass boat and his buddies were in the front. This gentleman stood up, spread his arms wide(crucifixion style) and shouted: “HERE I AM LORD, LET ME HAVE IT! Needless to say, God delivered [well, you would, wouldn't you?]. The other two passengers on the boat survived and are said to have immediately joined the Ministry.
CATCH!
A man in Alabama died from rattlesnake bites. Big deal you may say, but there’s a twist here that makes him a candidate. It seems he and a friend were playing catch with a rattlesnake. You can guess what happened from here. The friend (a future Darwin Awards candidate) was hospitalized.
GIMME A LIGHT!
In a west Texas town, employees in a medium-sized warehouse noticed the smell of a gas leak. Sensibly, management evacuated the building, extinguishing all potential sources of ignition-lights, power, etc. After the building had been evacuated, two technicians from the gas company were dispatched. Upon entering the building, they found they had difficulty navigating in the dark. To their frustration, none of the lights worked. Witnesses later described the vision of one of the technicians reaching into his pocket, and retrieving an object that resembled a lighter. Upon operation of the lighter-like object, the gas in the warehouse exploded, sending pieces of it up to three miles away. Nothing was found of the technicians, but the lighter was virtually untouched by the explosion . The technician that was suspected of causing the explosion had never been thought of as “bright” by his peers.
“I Got Pregnant During A Computer Sex Chat!”
By Lynda Oakley, Colorado Springs, Colo. via the internet
Frazzled Frances Wyndham believes the father of her unborn child is sitting behind a computer 1,500 miles away — where he got her pregnant during an online sex chat!
“His words were so convincing it felt like we were actually having sex,” Frances claims. “I could hear bells ringing and fireworks going off. My body reacted accordingly, and I became pregnant with his child. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I haven’t had sex with anyone else in over two years. So who else could it be?”
Clarence Kudrow, the man she says impregnated her, is flabbergasted by Frances’ charges — especially since she’s threatening to file a paternity suit. “I haven’t been anywhere near Colorado in my life,” said the 27 year old technician from Buffalo, N.Y. Incredibly, Dr. John Swall, a leading expert in unusual pregnancies, says Francis Wyndham may be right.
“If she had sex two years ago, there is a 5-million- to-one chance that some of the sperm survived but became dormant. Her high state of sexual excitement during the computer session could have helped revive what we call ’sleeping sperm,’ that resulted in pregnancy. But to say Mr. Kudrow is the father is ridiculous.”
There are only 18 known cases of ’sleeping sperm’ pregnancy over a 25 year period in the United States. One Ohio widow got pregnant with her husband’s baby nearly 38 months after they had sex for the last time before he died.
Frances, a 26 year-old store clerk, met Clarence in an Internet chat room for singles. They later began having intimate conversations with each other over their computers.
“It’s the only explanation for my pregnancy,” Frances said.
We’ll find out for sure when Clarence has to take a blood test.
Who’s the Daddy? The following are all replies that have been included on Child Support Agency forms under the section for listing father’s details. These are apparently actual statements, but we don’t know from where, though.
Regarding the identity of the father of my twins child A was fathered by [name removed]. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of child B, but I believe that he was conceived on the same night.
I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.
I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party [address and date given] where I had unprotected sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father can you send me his phone number? Thanks.
I don’t know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he’s had it replaced.
I have never had sex with a man. I am awaiting a letter from Pope confirming that my son’s conception was immaculate and that he is Christ risen again.
I cannot tell you the name of child A’s dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the British economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by my country. Please advise.
I do not know who the father of my child was as all squaddies look the same to me. I can confirm that he was a Royal Green Jacket.
[name given] is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him can you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs ?
From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Euro Disney maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom.
So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a programme about eggs earlier in the evening. If I’d have stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at [address given], I might have remained unfertilized.
Hats Off to the General Editors note: We did our best to confirm this little story. No one was talking. All indications are that this actually happened, but we cannot be sure. Even if this is a fabrication, what a great answer!
This is supposedly a partial transcript of an National Public Radio (NPR) interview between a female broadcaster, and a US Army Lieutenant General Reinwald, about sponsoring a Boy Scout Troop on his military installation.
INTERVIEWER: “So, LTG Reinwald, what are you going to do with these young boys on their adventure holiday?”
LTG REINWALD: “We’re going to teach them climbing, canoeing, archery, and shooting.”
INTERVIEWER: “Shooting! That’s a bit irresponsible, isn’t it?”
LTG REINWALD: “I don’t see why, they’ll be properly supervised on the range.”
INTERVIEWER: “Don’t you admit that this is a terribly dangerous activity to be teaching children?”
LTG REINWALD: “I don’t see how, we will be teaching them proper range discipline before they even touch a firearm.”
INTERVIEWER: “But you’re equipping them to become violent killers!”
LTG REINWALD: “Well, you’re equipped to be a prostitute, but you’re not one, are you?”
End of the interview.
Hats off, and a snappy salute, to the general.
The following was taken from a Florida newspaper:
A man was working on his motorcycle on his patio and his wife was in the house in the kitchen. The man was racing the engine on the motorcycle and somehow, the motorcycle slipped into gear. The man, still holding the handlebars, was dragged through a glass patio door and the motorcycle dumped onto the floor inside the house.
The wife, hearing the crash, ran into the dining room, and found her husband laying on the floor, cut and bleeding, the motorcycle laying next to him and the patio door shattered.
The wife ran to the phone and summoned an ambulance.
Because they lived on a fairly large hill, the wife went down the several flights of long steps to the street to direct the paramedics to her husband.
After the ambulance arrived and transported the husband to the hospital, the wife up righted the motorcycle and pushed it outside. Seeing that gas had spilled on the floor, the wife obtained some papers towels, blotted up the gasoline, and threw the towels in the toilet.
The husband was treated at the hospital and was released to come home.
After arriving home, he looked at the shattered patio door and the damage done to his motorcycle. He became despondent, went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette. After finishing the cigarette, he flipped it between his legs into the toilet bowl while still seated.
The wife, who was in the kitchen, heard a loud explosion and her husband screaming. She ran into the bathroom and found her husband laying on the floor. His trousers had been blown away and he was suffering burns on the buttocks, the back of his legs and his groin.
The wife again ran to the phone and called for an ambulance. The same ambulance crew was dispatched and the wife met them at the street.
The paramedics loaded the husband on the stretcher and began carrying him to the street.
While they were going down the stairs to the street accompanied by the wife, one of the paramedics asked the wife how the husband had burned himself. She told them and the paramedics started laughing so hard, one of them tipped the stretcher and dumped the husband out.
He fell down the remaining steps and broke his arm.
Now THAT is a bad day…
MORE BAD DAYS!
- A fierce gust of wind blew 45-year-old Vittorio Luise’s car into a river near Naples, Italy in 1983. He managed to break out a window, climb out, and swim to shore where a tree blew over and killed him.
- Mike Stewart, 31, of Dallas was filming a public service movie in 1983 on “The Dangers of Low-Level Bridges” when the truck he was standing on passed under a low-level bridge-killing him.
- Walter Hallas, a 26-year-old store clerk in Leeds, England was so afraid of dentists that in 1979 he asked a fellow worker to try to cure his toothache by punching him in the jaw. The punch caused Hallas to fall down, hitting his head, and he died of a fractured skull.
- George Schwartz, owner of a factory in Providence, R.I. narrowly escaped death when a 1983 blast flattened his factory except for one wall. After treatment for minor injuries, he returned to the scene to search for his files. The remaining wall then collapsed on him, killing him instantly.
- Depressed since he couldn’t find a job, 42-year-old Romolo Ribolla sat in his kitchen near Pisa, Italy with a gun in his hand, threatening to kill himself in 1981. His wife pleaded for him not to do it, and after about an hour, he burst into tears and threw the gun to the floor. It went off and killed his wife.
- In 1983, a Mrs. Carson of Lake Kushaqua, N.Y. was laid out in her coffin, presumed dead of heart disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up.
Her daughter dropped dead of fright. - A man hit by a car in New York City in 1977 got up uninjured, but laid back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him to death.
- Two German motorists had an all-too-literal head-on collision in heavy fog near the small town of Guetersloh. Each was guiding his car over the middle of the road. At the moment of impact, their heads were both out of the windows where they smacked together. Both men were hospitalized with severe head injuries. Their cars weren’t even scratched.
- Hitting on the novel idea that he could end his wife’s incessant nagging by giving her a good scare, Hungarian Jake Fen built an elaborate harness to make it look as if he had hanged himself.
When his wife came home and saw him, she fainted.
Hearing a disturbance, a neighbor came over and, finding what she thought were two corpses, seized the opportunity to loot the place.
As she was leaving the room, her arms laden, the outraged and suspended Mr. Fen kicked her stoutly in the backside. This so surprised the lady that she dropped dead of a heart attack. Happily, Mr. Fen was acquitted of manslaughter, and he and his wife were reconciled
KENTUCKY FRIED ORGANISMS
Federal food inspectors forced Kentucky Fried Chicken to change its name to “KFC” after it was discovered that KFC uses genetically manipulated organisms (”chickens”) that are kept alive by tubes that pump blood and nutients through their bodies. They have no beaks, no feathers, and no feet. The government ruled that these creatures cannot legally be called chickens.
LIFE IMITATES “ART”
A teenager who tried to imitate a scene from the movie American Pie severely burnt himself while trying to shag a hot apple pie.
HEAD LINES
In an interview with Larry King, Monica Lewinsky said “I’ve learned not to put things in my mouth that are bad for me.” Meanwhile, her father is threatening legal action so that his family name is not used as a slang for oral sex, after a character on a sitcom described the act as “getting a Lewinsky.”
HI, IDIOT
A member of the KKK has tried to legally change his name to “Hi Hitler.” Apparently, he had watched a lot of Nazi documentaries and thought the Nazis were chanting “Hi Hitler,” instead of “Heil Hitler.”
ANIMALS CAN BE SO HEARTLESS
Two seals, nearly killed in the Exxon Valdez oil spill, were rehabilitated at a cost of $80,000 each. At a special ceremony the saved animals were released back into the water. In full view of the wildly cheering spectators, the seals were eaten by a killer whale.
STUDYING HUMAN NATURE
A psychology student rented out her spare room to a carpenter in order to nag him constantly and study his reactions. Purely scientific. Unfortunately, the nagging got to him, and soon he beat her with an ax, leaving her mentally retarded.
CRUELTY TO ACTIVISTS
Two animal rights activists, protesting at a slaughterhouse in Bonn, Germany, were killed when two thousand pigs escaped through a broken fence and trampled them to death.
INSTANT KARMA
An Iranian terrorist who failed to put enough postage on a letter bomb was killed when the package was returned to him and he absentmindedly opened it.
OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!!!
A man trying to self-pierce his foreskin missed a nail and brought a two-pound hammer down on his penis. In shock, he tried to kill the pain by pouring Coke on his mangled organ. After passing out from the pain, the mixture of blood and the sugary drink attracted rats who gnawed off the man’s penis, scrotum and testicles.
MAN’S BEST (TASTING) FRIEND
Hans and Ema W., who had taken their dog with them on a trip to China, were eating at a restaurant. They asked the waiter to find something for the dog to eat in the kitchen. Unfortunately, due to the language barrier, the dog was taken to the kitchen, delicately prepared, and served to Hans and Ema as their main dish.
TRY NOT TO PICTURE IT
Too much anal sex loosens the muscles in the anus so much that some people are no longer able to control their bowel movements, and have to wear tampons in their anal cavity to “hold stuff in.”
LINK TIME!
5 Scientific Reasons a Zombie Apocalypse Could Actually Happen
Mandatory Vacation Time - i’m sure some of your went through this
I actually have a ton more links but I think you’ve read and looked at enough for today. I don’t want to overwhelm your puny minds.
Quote of the Day:
Chirp: “Just trip him and then blame it on Hitler”
Squeeze real real hard….Seriously, SERIOUSLY!
October 31, 2007
You know how I feel right now? I feel like I want to put my hands around somebody’s neck and squeeze real real hard. And then, while still keeping a firm grip around the neck knock the head repeatedly against a cold hard floor…. I’m not talking about anybody specific (although I hate alot of people and many of them deserve to die). I just feel really really pissed. Okay, I’ll take it slow…. *harp music* *flashback*
Okay, as you guys may have realized, I haven’t posted in a while. The end of last week I was busy with work crap. The only important work-related highlight of last week is that I got my boss to send a letter to HR saying that I was not to be a trainee but to become an “officer”. How? With a little thing called persistence, my friends. And with a little bit of disease. You don’t say “no” to a person who was just diagnosed with a disease. (I really actually was diagnosed with anemia). So anyway, I told my boss that I was horribly ill. And I told him that everybody was consistently lying to me about my designation and confirmation and that this was not what I’d signed up for and *whine, whine, whine*. Anyway, he eventually gave in. And after he did, I told him I was taking a couple of days off to recover (not bad eh?).
And thats why I haven’t been posting.
And the drama continues….
I show up to this hellhole called work today to find out that the job title he gave me does not even exist around here. Which, upon further thought, I think might be a good thing. Here’s why:
HR (which I like to think stands for Horribly Retarded) does not have a job descrpition for this new title. Now you’d think that they’d create one, seeing as its their job, but that might actually require some form of intelligence. So ofcourse, they ask my boss to send them a full job description. As if my boss will even entertain the idea of doing some kind of work. Soooooo ultimately I (indirectly) have the opportunity to write my own job description. Muhahahahaaaa!!!!! If things roll the right way, my boss won’t even read the thing before he sends it off (huge possibility) and so I’m thinking I’ll be “Officer”- Responsibilities include whipping teaboys, choreographing official corporate dance, DJing of hiphop elevator music, and drawing nipples on the shirts of all retards with a permanent marker. What do you think?
So anyway, back to reality… another thing I find once I walk into my office is some random Indian dude sitting at my table. What the fuck? And so I ask him: “Uhhhh… hi…. I’m sorry but this is my office, may I please ask what the fuck you’re doing here?”
Turns out that he’s some new guy that was hired and of course they throw him in my office. He asks really politely if he can stay for the day. And I say its fine. An hour later his division head comes over to inform me that he’ll be sitting in my office for a few days. Seriously, what the fuck? But you know what? Its fine, because its exactly this type of retarded “we have no respect for you or your space” shit that motivates me and excuses my demotivation and fuckery for this job. Really. I’m 100% sure that I could do the job of any motherfucking person here and actually do it well. But why should I? Why should I take a maskhara place like this seriously? They don’t deserve shit. And people bring up the arguement “but they pay you”. Sure they do. They pay me to come here and work. But for each peice of bullshit they pull I deduct a certain amount of work from my load. Just like they deduct my salary if I’m late. I’m being just as professional as they are. You get what you give baby.
Anyway, despite my “fuck y’all” attitude this place still stresses me out. I’m just not a person who can suffer so much bullshit. I seriously need to get out of this fucking country, because this place is seriously just a reflection of this nation. I need to leave. Seriously, I need to leave here with the knowledge that I don’t ever have to come back…. The problem is my parents don’t let me leave even though I tell them that living here is literally killing me, physically and mentally. I’m miserable here. Unfortunately, they know this and they don’t really care. I mean I know they care that I’m miserable but they completely wont entertain the idea of me leaving. I guess they prefer a miserable daughter over one that isn’t with them. Which I get (in theory, but not in reality).
I’m guessing this is why I’m very susceptable to fits of rage and violence (I really am…. I’m trying to become more zen… but I still wouldn’t suggest anybody really fuck with me). And you know what’s really scary, I enjoy hurting people. Its brings me great pleasure. I guess that its the only way I feel like I can release my frustration (that’s not true- comedy works too)…. I’ve tried exercise. But its just not the same… I guess I’m shaping up to be one great serial killer, dont you think? I’ll kill people but then somehow make a joke of it…. maybe I could have my one comedy / horror show on HBO someday *dream*….
Anyway, enough about me and my psychotic tendencies…. I need get going so its link time!
Whoop whoop!
October 22, 2007
Yeah, I took a day off…. I didn’t bother coming to work yesterday. I was tired and, honestly, why bother? Anyway, as sad as I am to say it, I’m back at work. I really can’t take it that much longer. The whole thing. Not just work. Life in Kuwait, in general. The whole thing blows and sucks at the same time.
I really have to get out of here (Kuwait). Living here sucks the life out of me (physically as well as mentally). Its like some kind of new evil torture.
Damn it, hold on, I spot my boss, the retard. I need to have a conversation with him. Actually, you know what? Screw it. I don’t feel like dealing with him now. I don’t know if I told you guys about the whole “I’m a trainee” thing. Here’s a summary of it:
When I was hired, I was told that I would be a “trainee” for the first 100 days I was employed (Basma Basma told me this). Fair enough (even though the motherfuckers didn’t train me for shit). Anyway, so 100 days in the retards still didn’t confirm me. I go to HR and ask about my confirmation. And HR gives me the regular shitty excuses for not doing their work:
“Oh its with Mahmood Mahmood.”
Okay. Mahomood, where is it?
“Uhhh.. duhhhh… I don’t have it, that’s not my job. Basma Basma is supposed to have it.”
Okay. Basma, where’s my confirmation?
“Ummm…. I don’t have it. Blah blah… is supposed to have it. You go and come back later.”
Okay. Weeks of me going and 7inning pass to no avail. Just more excuses…like “it got lost, we need to print it again”.
Until one day, basically, 2 months late. They give me my confirmation letter. Time to celebrate, you’d think. But noooooooooooooo. The shiteaters give me a confirmation letter that says my confirmed position will be “trainee”. That shit don’t fly with me, bitches. So I go to Basma. And basically ask her in a polite way: “What is this fucking shit? You whore! You said I’d be a trainee for 3 months. And now you give me this shit, 5 months in, that says my job is a “trainee”. I’m going bitchslap seven shades of shit out of you, you gimpish streetwalker! “
She goes on to defend her position to say that “she never said that” (the lying whore). And that their policy is you’re a trainee for 6 months. And if I want to become a “full-fledged employee” in my unit before the 6 months, that my GM has to write some kind of recommendation.
Fine, off I go to my boss, the retard. And I tell him that he has to write HR a recommendation. And he is like “yeah sure! whatever you need darling! flippity flippity! faggoty fag! I’m just going to talk to the pimp of HR, and ask him what he recommends your official position should be.”
Ummmm…. okay… just get it done.
So days pass and I get an email from my boss to go see the HR pimp. So I go. Now, you’d think that when you have problems with a whore like Basma her pimp would take care of it. But again, noooooooooooooooooo. This guys makes I am Sam look like a genius.
Okay, so I explain my story to the pimp. “Basma said this when I was hired, and now she’s saying this. Whats the dealio, yo?” The pimp decides to avoid the question.
“Why are you concerned about your official designation? You should be concerned about your work! Your job title isn’t important.”
“I’m concerned about my job title, because it IS important. Maybe not to you it isn’t, but to me it is, motherfucker. And don’t you worry your trashy little ass about my work, everybody says my work is damn fine, ask anybody. Now, like I said what’s the deal?”
Again he avoids the question. “You’re still on the learning curve *simulates a wave with his hands*. You should be concerned about your learning.”
Me: “What learning curve motherfucker? You couldn’t teach a chimp to scratch his ass. Now, again I’ve been here long enough to no longer be considered a trainee.
Pimp: Do you do work?
Me: Hell yeah, motherfucker. Do you, asshair?
Him: Like what do you do?
Me: I do *name multiple projects*. *Pimp swallows his tongue and shuts the fuck up*So one last time, jackass, what is your real policy? 100 days? 6 months? What is the motherfucking deal?”
Pimp: “Well…. umm…. there is no time limit to you being a trainee….”
Me: “What the fuck? You’ve got to be shitting me! So you can technically keep me a trainee for 2 years-”
Pimp: “No we wouldn’t do that-”
Me: “How the fuck can I believe that when you have no fucking written policy and all of you pieces of horse shit lie to me about everything? How the hell am I supposed to know when I’m no longer a trainee?”
Pimp: “Well, that’s up to your boss… he recommends you.”
Me: “Thats what I’m telling you, you fucking retard! My GM was supposedly just going to ask you my official designation. What the fuck did you say?”
Pimp: “Uhhh… I said you should stay a trainee.”
Me: “But that’s technically not your decision is it?”
Pimp: “No… its your GM’s decision.”
Me: “Why the hell am I talking to a dipshit like you then?” *get up and leave*
Baby Jesus Christ, do you guys see the fucked-up retards I have to deal with? And you ask why I’m so frustrated and violent. If I wasn’t surrounded by “people” like this I would be so much more pleasant.
Anyway, so now I’m at a point where I have to go and talk to my boss and tell him to send them a motherfucking recommendation. The thing is I’m not a complete idiot and I know the only reason my boss got the pimp involved in the first place is to have him tell me the bad news of not changing my status. That’s how my boss works: He pretends to be all nice to you but then he gets other people to do his dirty work so you can’t blame him. Sly dirty motherfucker. But that shit don’t fly with me, I’m just trying to compose myself so that I don’t knock his cocky ass out when I’m talking to him. So I need to talk to him… and I know what I’m going to say and everything, but whenever I see him, I get this uncontrollable urge to spit at him. And I can’t do that, because then he definitely won’t recommend me.
I know what I write about work can get me fired, and there’s probably some guy from IT reading all of this right now, but honestly, I don’t care. And honestly, if you jerkoffs actually ran this business semi-professionally I wouldn’t be writing all this. But all of you deserve to lose your silly ass jobs, if you what to call the cocksucking you do a job. Fuck all of you! I hate all you people that work here! Die! Die! Die!
*Long sigh* Ahhhhhhhhhh…….. I feel soooo much better now that I got all that out. No wonder they say writing is therapeutic. There’s nothing more therapeutic than writing swearwords about people you hate.
Anyway…. lets get to the fun parts!
For all you people that drink pepsi….etc.
For all you guys out there - your dream job
And last but not least. A Mini Retarded Video! This is why I think wreslting is for kids and retards:
See? A nice long post to make up for the missed ones. Don’t say I don’t treat you nice. I treat you as nice as I would any other homeless people I know. With that, I’m off. To do what? I don’t know. I live my life on the edge… not knowing whats going to happen from one minute to the next! Crazy, I know! But that’s how I roll! Whoop whoop!
Post #769
October 17, 2007
Owwww…. my toes hurt. *whine* Seriously my big toes hurt. I think I might have a mild case of ingrown nail. Not cool, I know, but it happens. Why do we have toenails anyway? We don’t really need them. I understand why we have fingernails. I mean, fingernails you can use to….ummmm….. pick your nose…. ummmm…. measure the perfect snort of cocaine and …. ummm…. ummm… remove stickers from things. See? Finger nails are useful. But toenails are pretty useless. You can’t really do any of that stuff with your toenails (well, I guess you technically could if you’re really flexible). But for the most part, toenails are just an annoyance. So, I’ve decided to get my toenails removed . Okay, so maybe I won’t get them removed but I want to because toenails suck ass.
You know what else is wrong with the human body? We’re missing tails. I want a tail. A nice long furry tail that I can cuddle with when I’m going to sleep. A nice long tail that I can play with when I’m lonely. A tail that I can hug when I’m crying. *sob* Oh, I’m sooo lonely! *wail*
Just kidding, but seriously, having a tail would be awesome. It would keep flies and mosquitoes away from you. You could smack people in the face with your tail when they annoy you and then say “Oh, that silly tail has a mind of its own!”. So many things to do once you have a tail! The possibilities are endless!
Oh, hold on, I’ve got some work to do. Actual work. Credit division work…. sweet!
Damn you guys, this work looks like its going to take a while…. we’re going to have to finish this tomorrow.
BTW: WordPress saved this post as #769. Which is weird, I haven’t written that many posts have I? Go and count them, will you? Let me know how many I have. C’mon, chip chop! Snippity snap!
Ethnic Cleansing
October 16, 2007
Welcome back children! Welcome back to your retarded 8-3 (or 9-5) workdays, for which you will be paid the same meager amount of money that you were paid during ramadan when you were working half the time and doing the same shit. What a pleasure it is to be back, isn’t it?
I don’t completely hate coming back right now because my boss isn’t here. No boss means, no work (or rather no need to pretend to work). Just sitting here sipping my chocolate milk and surfing the net. Which I do on regular days except now there’s no worry I’m going to get some retarded-ass, below-me task to do. I technically was assigned crap to do this week, but honestly, fuck it. Drinking this chocolate milk is more challenging than the shit I have to do. Suck, gargle, swallow, wipe mouth, repeat. That’s the Prophet way of drinking. And ofcourse each sip much be followed with a loud “Ahhhhhhhh!”.
Anyway, enough about work, there are a couple of more things to talk about before I get to the main topic of this post. The first of which is that its finally happened. No… I haven’t lost my virginity (I just “misplaced”it). I’m talking about the fact that I have been finally been identified. Somebody (who I haven’t told) knows my true identity. I’ve been waiting for this (not that its that hard to do if you pay attention to the things that I say). So now, its my turn. This is for you Blondie: I’ve narrowed you down to pretty much one person. Say hi to 7adjiya for me…. am I right? I am sooooooo right! Woooohooooo! The Prophet prevails! And I had only one hint. *gulp* I hope I’m right.
Anyway, something else I should probably mention: I didn’t bother to get a domain or wireless internet. Even though I’ve had the time. I really can’t be bothered. I think I should get a personal assistant to do these things for me. But then again I can’t really be bothered to look for a personal assistant. Its a vicious cycle. Its a disease. Laziness should be treated with medication in my opinion. Psychotherapy wouldn’t work because if you lay me down on a leather couch and start talking about “feelings”, I’d be asleep in 5.
Jesus! It’s freaking freezing in here! I can’t even think. Hold on you guys…. I’m going to call maintenance to turn of this friggin’ AC…..
Okay, I’m back…. Stupid maintenance still didn’t come and its been 20 minutes. TIMMY!
Let me put up so mildly entertaining things for you before I get into the important topic of ethnic cleansing:
I hate these: Pictures in pictures in pictures…..
Transparent Frogs Used for Research
I’ve been thinking of dying my cat- this is a cool idea
Now for a mini-retarded video! This video reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to watch Animaniacs alot. There was this segment called Good Idea-Bad Idea. For example, they would show somebody taking a shower and they’d say GOOD IDEA. Then they’d show somebody taking a shower with a toaster and consequently getting electrocuted. BAD IDEA.
The following video is a BAD IDEA:
Okay, on to our topic of the day, ethnic cleansing. Lets get something straight first before you people start whining that killing people is wrong… blah blah blah, I don’t believe in killing people because of their ethnicity, religion, color… etc. So maybe “ethnic cleansing” is the incorrect term but it is the most appropriate in this case. Because what I intend to do ( if once I have the power) is kill a certain type of people. Geezy people. You know who I’m talking about. Those fugly boys with spiky hair that walk around marina hitting on girls. Those whorish girls with kilos of makeup on their face that prance around muhallab looking for dick. Basically Kuwaiti trash. The Kuwaiti trash epidemic transcends social classes, religious views, and wealth lines. You find rich trash and poor trash. Its everywhere people! And its time to clean up!
I think a system should be installed where geezy people are penalized. Not with fines but with beatings. I have an extreme version involving concentration and “rehabilitation” camps for offenders. That might be too extreme. So I’ll go with one of my brother’s suggestions. A sort of more vigilante approach. My little brother proposed that he basically gets a beatup reinforced pickup and along with a bunch of his friends beat up trash that they see wherever they go. I like it. Except, these vigilante groups would be really hard to monitor, and alot of things could potentially go wrong. But its a start and something has to be done about these people.
Why they’d need a beat-up pickup? Well, so that they don’t feel bad when they run into geezy people and their cars. Like, for example, this whole new thing where people put ’strass’ (fake diamonds) on their cars. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!
What the hell is wrong with people? You know what that is? You know what that is? Its nouveau riche its motherfucking nigga rich! What do you hope people will think when they see that shit on your car? That your car is pretty? That you are classy? C’mon you can’t be that retarded to think others actually think that. Well, then again you might be with that shit on your car. Only retarded people would do that and then go “Oooooo! Shiny!”.
You know what I think when I see that out on the road? I think “Get your silly-ass car out of my way before I run you the fuck over. Motherfucker.” I don’t care if you have an Isuzu or a Porsche if it has that shit on it your car is automatically silly-ass, you will get no respect and you frankly don’t deserve any. If any of you, my dear readers, have that crap on your car, I don’t want to know about it. Actually, if you have that crap on your car stop reading my blog, I’m ashamed of you. Actually, I’m more than ashamed, I’m disgusted. Leave! Just leave!
Seriously, whats Kuwait coming to? Look at the people in our malls, on our streets. Look at what society praises and deems important. Sure, there are a couple of good people around here. But in general, can you say you are proud of the majority of the people around here? I can’t. And that’s a shame, a damn shame.
But I don’t think its too late. I think that with ethnic cleansing, immense restructuring of the education system and reevaluation of morals, we can still save this country! Who’s with me?
Sara: “I am!”
Mick: “I am!”
Lolli: “Me too!”
Sabeecha: “Haman ana!”
Rover: “Woof!”
*Sara, Mich, Lolli, Sabeecha, and Rover are my alternate personalities. And they TOTALLY agree with me! See? I have people who support me and love me!
