My view on growing up and moving out of the house is that there might be fucking tigers out there. My contract doesn't say anything about fighting tigers. Now, if you need me I'll be under my bed, hiding from the reality of the situation. Hold my calls.
I have contracted martian death flu. Deep inside my body superheated reactions are occuring, fueled by CLIF bars and years of excessive porn consumption. Soon my skin will slough off, revealing glistening black chitin and murderous razor sharp claws. But with my skin will go my mind, and all that will remain of me will be my snappy fashion sense and propensity to dance in... Read More
I'm bumming around the internet learning how to make precision guided artillery, BC style. The sling is an ancient and deadly armor piercing weapon. The David V. Goliath thing is less pea-shooter vs. tank than it is sniper rifle vs. chainsaw. Goliath was fucked the moment he stepped out on to the field. There isn't much you can do about a rock being flipped at... Read More
Yesterday my little brother (age 10) had his entire class over for an end of the year graduation sleep over party thing. This was the same day that I was going out hunting for Water Nymphs and Naiads with my friend, so when I got back I was cornered by about a dozen ten year old girls, who interogated me relentlessly as to what I... Read More
I made a big throwing knife. It's rock. Once the glue dries I'm going to sit down and put an edge on the thing. Then I'm going to throw the fucker at stuff.
My room smells bad. This is a problem because I, personally, cannot smell anything. I do have a sense of smell, but it is so weak and imprecise that I can only acknowledge certain strong smells. generalized room funk doesn't register.
So I'm going to do laundry and leave the windows open all day, and see if that improves things.