User:Serbon

Hello, everyone! This is one of the weirdest sites: or your money back! We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. E-mail us for questions, comments, complaints and information. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? We have halloween and christmas pictures on the NeoPics link. Cheese is not a wild thing!!!!!!!!! Now I have decided to go for a world record. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! Won't that be fun? I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste. Wow...I really must be bored. Just goes to show what boredom can do to you. Any way, that's it for now. Wait, no it isn't, I still have to keep going, and going, and going. Because I do. THE REST OF THE STUFF I TYPE WILL BE COMPLETLY IN CAPS JUST BECAUSE I CAN. THAT IS ALL. SEEYA! Hi, I'm back. So far this is nowhere near the world record. I think. I don't exactly know where it is...oh, well. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. No one is really coming here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. The form link is to a 100% fake TAB registration form that you can fill out just for laughs. I can't believe I'm bothering to do this. I have very low expectations of my site. None ever comes here, I could do this all day long and I still wouldn't have any more hits. This is just a pointless excursive in spelling errors and grammatical imprecision. May your day be shiney! The following is an extremely weird poem-thingy that I wrote when I was in a relatively weird mood: never mind that noise my dear can anyone pass the cheese only if you say pretty please oh, boy do I have to sneeze. why must everyone always rhyme, why I’m a poet and don’t I know it? what I fear comes right after here not this life or the next will I ever be able to pass the test? we’re stuck in here, (alone my dear) and we’ll problem never get out so don’t start to shout. it’s dark and I want to go home is where the heart was where is it now? we’ll never know but oh crap it’s starting to snow and it’s time to show and tell about the well that you found last summer at camp when it was damp it was near the ramp oh god why must this be I liked that tree but now it’s gone, farewell so long I’ll miss you as long as you write but then I’m afraid to say good-night. my dear there’s nothing to fear that’s only a box that’s made of blocks next to the wagon that looks like a dragon why are you shaking it’s your fear that is making you shiver and act all a quiver. don’t you know that you only need be afraid of fear and never anything here and certainly not a post that acts like a ghost? See, very weird. At least it fills up my word quota for the day. Not that I exactly have a word quota for the day. It just sounded very professional to say it. Anyway, I still don't think that anyone is actually coming here. You'd have to be an absolute loser (or really bored) to come here. I'd probley come here, but that isn't much of a surprise. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. Pathetic. But, whatever. As long as I'm happy, right. Humor the crazy person, okay? Oh, guess what? According to someone you problem don't know, this is the second most pointless website ever! Next to the Really Big Button, of course. I feel special. Come on everyone, group hug. Okay, now I'm starting to scare myself...I'm gonna quit for today. Seeya. Now I'm back. Is this getting confusing to you? Too bad. Now I want you to go to http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=eon" If you do this I'll get points in the game. Come on all you non-existing people! Help me! You know you want to! It's a worthy cause! Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time I'll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why you'd be here if you didn't want to read is beyond me. Maybe you're lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Good...what? You say it didn't let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe you'll break free. What's that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye.

Hey, I'm once again: back. I don't suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this site. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when you're not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm back!*smiles brightly* And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmm...I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) I'll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, I'm not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!!!!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named johnjones333@hotmail.com The Patron Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account, flamingchickens333@hotmail.com Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!!!*waits for readers to become insanely jealous* Yep, that's right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldn't let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages. That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages, right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. ''And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating.'' And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg"webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/responsibility of the creators. That was sort of a topic, even though it was sort of random. Which is what I do best. Okay, I'm done with that litte commercial. What now...hmmmmm...should I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? Or have I been doing that too much lately? Oooooo! I know, I'll start of list of why it's fun/good to be insane/weird! #1You can say or do anything and normal people will agree with you in the hopes that you'll be satisfied, shut up, and go away. Far away. I will show you an example with this completly true stuff that I experienced several years ago. ''ME: My vicious, psychotic, flesh-eating bunny-rabbit wants to rule the world. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. ME: Yeah, but I told her that she'd be a terible ruler. I mean, she traded Asia for a carrot! And she doesn't even LIKE carrots! RANDOM PERSON: You don't say? ME: Yep. She also is the goddess of red jello. RANDOM PERSON: *head explouding from sheer insanity*'' As you can see, I was a very weird child (this happened in elementary school...uh...except for that head-explouding part). Okay...on to: #2 You can get out of practically anything by saying: ''a)It's against my religion b)I'm allergic to that. c)I have an extremly irrational fear of that. d)I already did that in a past life and it sucked. e)My psychotic bunny predicted I'd die doing it.'' Unfortunalty, several of those reasons LEGITAMITLY apply to a certain activity I do every Tuesday, which WILL NOT BE NAMED HERE LEST I GIVE IT POWER OVER ME! I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religion...along with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. Thou shalt not eat spuds. Hmmmm...time for #3You can obsessive over ANYTHING, and people will think nothing of it. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheese...and chickens...and flame. Fire is good. Fire is free. Fire is my friend...until it burns me. Then it must die...painfully. And on to:#4You make your friends look normal in comparison. And #5: You can give each of your pets several weird names such as: Ringling-Raison-Bailey-Suzana-Midnight-Schultz, Squirell, Moose, Moose-Moose, Moosey-Moose, Linzey-Moose, Muffin, Squirell-Muffin, Yabby-Doodle, Abby Normal, Wiggle-Baby, Wiggle-Muffin, Witle-Baby, Cheese-Monkey, Muffin-With-Squirell-Juice, Squirell-With-Muffin Juice, Moosey-Juice, Squirell-Monkey, etc. Now, wasn't that a fun list!? Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? I should make bumber stickers saying that. Proud to be weird. It'd be cool. Anyway, gotta go! *yawn* I'm back. Last night I was super-charged with lots of sugar and not a lot of sleep. I ended up writing things during the time of night when EVERYTHING is hilarious, including the word sheep. To compound things, I wasn't alone, and things just escalated. The following is everything I wrote during that sugar-coated time period. Some are answers to e-mails, the rest are just stuff I wrote.

Definitly. THen we go to library. Guess what? Me and Josh ate lots and lots of sugar, and it's late at nite and everything is funny but we can't laugh 'cause everybody is sleepin' so it's even funnier but ever since we drank the water we sobered up even though we weren't drunk but we ate sugar...lots and lots of sugar. MOstly donut cake. Okay. JOsh says it was only one piece of cake. WE got it at Wal-mart. Or his mom did. OR something. Goodbye...oh, and the fresh chicken wings might be to blame. they were special wings. I hope I remember doing this. I think it's pretty funny. > You have blue hari..*gigles* I like hair. Josh says I probably won't remember writing any of this, but I can't sleep. THe cake was good. aSk anybody. Big Brother may be listening right now so I beter go. They're listening for a secrret...no it's cause of a secret. But the secret doesn't exist so they are stupid. *g8ggles* bye. Yes. Megan has hair. I've seen it. *giggling* It's very, very late at nite. ONly not really. i like sugar. NO, wait. It's early. WE have been having very profound thoughts lately. We think. THey might havve been important, but we keep forgetting them. We're not sure. Josh wants his thought back. *sniffle* i do, too. It's not fair. I think mine involved a jaunty song to sing. But I couldn't have sung it 'cause it would have woken everyone up and they would have called me inconsiderate. I have to get up really early to leave for home. I should be asleep. *gigles* It milght have been a sugar rush 'cause now we're having a sugar crash. OR, maybe it's the writing. Okay, maybe it was the ranch dressing instead of the special, fresh buffalo wings. But they really were'nt buffoal wings 'cause buffalo's don't have wings...cause they come off when they are babies, JOsh says so and he must be right causse he's been having Profound Thoughts even though he cannot remember them. But, the wings were'nt really special. I don't think. Maybe we're just really, really tired and had sugar. I don't want to play the stupid animal war card game 'cause the stupdi bear gets eaten by an eaagle.. ...goodbye ssslllee0yyyyslllllllleeeeeeeepppppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyy iiiiiiiiissssssssssssss gggggggggoooooooooooooddddddddddddd.............

As you can see, I was in a very interesting state of mind. I hadn't had a genuine sugar rush since I was 11. It was fairly fun. Although I acted like an idiot. Oh, well. I have more stuff to write, but I gotta go right now. Stay tuned to hear my thoughts on tanning, and an evil card game, and who knows what else...Okay I'm back. Here's what I wrote this weekend: Woooooo! 5000 hits! Aren't I special? *sigh* I can't think of anything to write. But I must. I must defeat the sister site of the Longest Text Ever! I mean, I've been doing this much, much longer than the other person. Hmmmmm...monkey. Why do weird people (myself included) obsess about monkeys? And, are monkeys spelled monkies? It just looks weird. Like a division of mounties made entirely out of monks. I bet it's spelled monkeys. It looks right. Maybe I should use spell-check. But...that'd be a lot of work, unlike ranting, raving and rambling. Hey, it's the 3 r's! No longer does school teach use reading, riting and 'rithmitic, it now teaches us ranting, raving and rambling! (and redundancy!) After all, isn't that basicly what the best teachers do? It sets a perfect example for you young, impressionable minds. Those are the best kind. *yet another highly dramatic, time-consuming sigh* I need a topic. A good one. Not one of those bargain ones anyone can find at your local topic discount outlet store. I'll rant and rave and ramble about the EVILS of sunlight. Most people actually like to spend long periods of time exposing their vulnerable skin to the harmful rays of the sun. These people have obviously suffered major brain damage from their prolonged exposure to the sun. The actually think that their skin's efforts to protect them are ATTRACTIVE. It'd be like someone thinking that scabs are atractive, 'case they protect you from disease. Then everyone would cut and scrape themselves to be covered in scabs. That's exactly what tanning is like. Purposly damaging the skin so you can look "attractive". Now, a long time ago, people were sort of smarter. They avoided the sun at all costs. They associated tans with hard, manuel labor. Then, some fasion bimbo went on a fasionable safarii to get some fasionable furs, or whatever. When she came back, 'lo and behold, she had a tan. This resourceful young vanguard of fasion decided to cover her extreme embarassment by acting like she meant to horribly damage herself. And because she was the head fasion bimbo, everyone agreed that the look was definitly "in". So, everyone went to the beach and got tans. Girls began wearing skimpier, and skimpier bathing suits. Men, of course, had no complaints. (Though whether it was the tan or the skimpy suits, no one will ever know.) As you read this Historicly Accurate Anecdote, you must realize the parallel between it and the fable The Emperoro's New Clothes. Someone did something incredbly stupid, but because they were powerful, everone acted like it was a stroke of genius. And the preceding generations became brain-washed (possibly through subliminal messages in sun-tan lotion commercials) to believe tans were expected. Those few who actually could think and avoided the sun were considered to be outcasts. I don't mean to insult you if you DO have a tan. I am simply explaining why I, personally, refuse to swim, go to the beach, sunbathe, leave the house, etc. Alrighty then. I'm gonna quit for now. I'm back. I'm so very, very tired. School has been on for four days now. I have three very hard academic classes. They give lots and lots of homework. Two and a half hours of homework (total) to be precise. I get home from work at 5:30p.m. and eat dinner. Then I do my homework. I get done at 9:15. Then I wait for my mom and dad to stop playing Collapse II so that I can get on. I usually have less than 30 minutes. It sucks. I can't really work on this site even though I now have a more in depth understanding of variables. I learned this from my calculator. I made a virtual pet for it. It was fun. I'm tired. Did I mention that, yet. My calculator is nifty. Sometimes, it is lazy. It tells me stuff like: "Warning: More Solutions May Exist" and "Questionable Accuracy". So...it doesn't bother to find all solutions, and it may be wrong. Geee....that is comforting. I love my calculator, though. It does all my Math for me. I hate Math. Math is so picky. In English, and stuff, if you miss one little detail, at most you lose partial credit, but you usually get it all right. In Math, one teeny, tiny little mistake will make you get the entire thing wrong. I tend to make those tiny mistakes, and get bad grades, even if I understand the concepts. I hate Math. I'm tired. Are you tired. I sure am. Guess what I wanna do. How did you ever guess? That's right, I wanna sleep. Why can't I? Hmmmm...good question. I think I'm so tired I can't sleep. Plus...I gots oblimagations...obligaton....obligations to this site. yeah. thats it...i so tired...bye-bye. I'm back. And more than slightly embarassed. Today my frazzled-brain produced something that is decidedly Jenny (that's my more or less "real" name). I was contemplating how my heavy load of books made me like a bulldozer and than I was about to suggest to my friend, "Meg" that we invent one. Then I realized that the buldozer already HAD been invented. That's how I knew it's name, picture and what it did. That is just...pathetic. School is taking its toll. *sigh* *sniffle* *snort* *insert word that is a sound that begins with an "s" here* I don't have much time, so, I must be brief. I'm not sure how I CAN be brief since I have absolutly nothing to say. The best way to be brief is to quit now. Right now. Which is what I'm about to do. Any miniute now. I promise. Okay. Bye! *sigh* My dogs are just weird. You remember my Moose's arch-enemy, don't you? You know, the small, white feather. Well, my squirell now has an arch-enemy. At least her's makes sense...sort of. Her enemy is a fake Yorkshire Terrior (same species as her) made entirely out of goat hair. She HATES and FEARS it. She'll shake and run from it, then suddenly dive and bite it's head. She goes crazy if someone holds it, 'cause it's getting attention and not her. I'm fairly certain she knows it's not alive, though. Maybe she just doesn't like goat-smell. In any case, she is clearly insane. Just like everyone else in my family. In other news, I participated in the Second Battle of the Asparagus Wars and chronicled them here. I'll add a link to the main page when I get around to it. It gave me new insight into how weird I am. I fought with vegitables, covered myself in bubble wrap, groveled before the Great Banana and dodge skittles and flying doughnuts and rubber chikens. The entire message board was like one big insane asylum. Needless to say, I felt right at home. Well, seeya *waves brightly* I got to go to my Grendel (really cool book) project for school. I's making fake soundtracks like the teacher told me! BYE!!! Okay...I'm back. Today's rant is a panic rant. There are not going to be conspiracies...or humor of any kind. I think. *let the panic begin!* IT'S NOT FAIR! Why do I have to work year round? I only signed up for a semester. I was looking forward to having A elective, while everyone else was enjoying three or four...or even more. Oooo..I'm a poet, and don't I know it? In any case...it's awful. It's bad enough to go to school, leave school, go to work, leave work, do homework and then wait for my dad to get off of the computer so that I can do stuff. I want SOME free time. That's all. Is that too much to ask? I spend from 8-5 doing what everyone else wants. When is it MYturn? Next semester will be almost exactly like this one. Even though my schedule is technically supposed to be completly differnt. You see, my school has "block" scheduling. That means I take four classes this semester and four different classes next year. But one of my classes is work, and two others are horrible year-round classes. So next semester I'll still have work, AP Lit, and AP Physics. It's not FAIR. Physics is so FREAKIN' hard! I don't understand it. I have no problem with Lit. Okay. Work. I love my work, I love the kids I work with. But I HATE spending three hours of every day in a "class" when everyone else's class is only an hour and a half. I don't care if I have to ride the bus home if I stop work. I don't care if I'd get home only an hour or so before I normaly do. I want an elective. Maybe. I think. All I know is that I've been assuming one thing while the person in charge has been assuming a completly different thing. Neither of us thought to question the other. And so I'm in deep doo-doo. *sniffle* I just want to have some FREAKIN' variety in my daily grind, you know? I don't WANT to do the same thing for an entire year. Yeah, I know, regular schedule schools do that. I pity them, I really do. I've spent the past three years of my life EXPECTING each semester to be like a mini-year. I DO NOT LIKE CHANGE! This is just way too much of a change at once. I don't want year-round classes. I don't want a full year of work. I don't want to be in this mess...I'm going to bed. I'm back. I don't have much of a choice about the whole work thing. Plus, the kids at the daycare (where I work, obviously) say that I'm "cool to talk to". That makes me feel alll warm and fuzzy inside. Like a muffin. They just like how I know lots of pointless laws and random facts. Okay. ON TO THE CONPIRACY OF THE DAY!: I've had this nagging fear that I am part of some random but vast conspiracy (about what I'm not sure but it must be vast). Meanwhile there is a vast conspiracy at school to keep me ignorant about my pawn roll in the other vast conpiracy by keeping me vastly bored. (In a very vast sense) And: did you ever notice that the word "conspiracy" is vastly similar to the word "constipation". I only mention this 'cause I've accidently spelled constipation instead of conspiracy a few times. (on accident, vast number of times) Hee-Hee! Isn't vast a funny word? You can just picture sterotypical pirates saying, "A vast ye mateys!". I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it sure is funny:) You don't agree? Shame on you! Code: 888 of The Flaming Chickens Handbook states that The Patron Saint of Paperclips (still me) is always right. ALWAYS. If the facts beg to differ, than the facts are wrong. End of story. Seeya. I'm back. I've been playing one of the new neopets slot machines (black pawkeet). I'm completly and totally addicted. Gambling is so much fun! I've won 500 np, at least and I'm on a roll. Now sure, I could have won more than 500 at some game in which you don't have to pay to play. But, what would be the fun in that? I even came up with a mathematical explanation for why gambling is fun (while I was eating a hyper-speed dinner, thinking nothing of getting back to the slot machine). Okay. If you don't understand the concept of numbers less than zero, (negative numbers) just skip this part. Imagine a number line that points in the positive and negative direction. When I start playing a game, I am on 0. I have neither won nor lost money/neopoints. When I win 500np on a normal game, I move to the 500 point. There is exactly 500 units of distance between the two extremes of winning amounts (0 and 500) BUT! When I play a gambling game, there is a possibility that I'll lose everything, so I start on negative however much NP I have with me. If I had 500np with me, I'd be at-500. Then, when I win 500 additional np, I move to the 500np point. The distance between the two extremes of how much I could have won is 1000np, making me feel like I've won much more than if I'd played a normal game. Did you understand that? Good. I probably won't later. But that is irrelevant. Goodbye! I am back. And I hava a very, almost special rant for you. The previous sentence made absolutly no sense. Good for it. In a recent article, humorist Dave Barry discussed the addictive quality of the snack food, Cheez-Its. Naturally, I had many mixed feelings, primarily disgust, as I have not voluntarily eaten a Cheez-It in quite some time. They're disgusting, bland and definitly not made of cheez, whatever that is. My family has always bought Cheez-Its, to the point of making me physically sick at the thought of eating one. (To this day, however, I will almost literally kill for a box of Cheez-It party mix, as it is a rare commodity at my house.) Fortunatly, my mom recently finnaly switched our snack food preference. To Cheese Nips. Say it. Out loud. What does it sound like? When you look at them they are identical to the evil little Cheez-Its. The only difference is the taste, which I enjoy, since it is new and different. What I want to know is this: are there no intelectual property rights in the world of food products? I mean, don't you think the creators of Cheese-Nips had a box of Cheez-Its out when they were designing their product? It seems like blaggerent plagerism. The only reason the makers of Cheese-Nips don't get sued is because of the tast difference and Cheese Nips are made of real "cheese" rather than cheez. It makes you think of Name-Brand vs. Generic cereal brands. They are the samething, with the same look, and almost same name. But people buy name brands. Why, because they assume it's better quality. Plus, boxes are more convient than bags. A profound statement, if I ever heard one. Any way, I'm leaving to eat some Cheessy goodness! I'm back. Apparantly my standards of weird have gone up. This morning, my Mom came home from work. She was upset, because she had accidently run over an armidillo. She said she hurt it the first time, and wanted to put it out of it's misery, so she went back and ran over it 11 more times. But it's legs were still moving and it was alive. She was extremly upset. When I related this story to my friends (including "Meg") they thought it was hilarious. They couldn't stop laughing. I thought it was sad...and normal. They particularly liked how I said that she went back and ran over it 11 more times. I'm not sure why. Of course, when I next saw my Mom, she retold the story to me, several times. With the exact same words, motions and emotions. She didn't think it was weird, either. Perhaps my family is just so weird, we've lost all sense of perspective. Or maybe it's everybody else that's weird. I just don't know. What do you think, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know either? Hmmmmm...what is this world coming to? Oh, by the way, I was paid a decent compliment today. One of my friends (who laughed at the armidillo story) named Tonileigh said "Jenny (that's me) is weirder than the average Psycho." and " You think Jenny's weird? Wait till you see her in angry mob form!" Now THAT'S just weird. "angry mob form"? That just sounds nifty! I can clone myself and form and angry mob? In anycase, this was particularly funny because Tonileigh is one of my "normaler" friends. Although I tell you she can't possibly be normal, since she hangs out with me. Anyway, I'm gonna go. I gots stuff to do! I'm back. If you'll look toward the bottom of this page, you'll notice that I added a nifty little thing called the "babel fish". It will translate any thing, to anything else. Ain't it nifty? What's really fun is to translate an English saying, like out of sight, out of mind. Then, when it's in German, or whatever, translate it back to English. It's so completly garbled, it's funny. For instance, I wrote: "I am the Crazy Taco!", and translated it to German. I then copied and pasted the German and put it in the text box. I translated it from German to English and got "I am the Moved Taco!" See? Hours of completly useless fun! This has been my hourly Public Service Announcement that I only do when I feel like it. Seeya! I'm back! Woooo! And do I ever have a topic today! I've been a paranoid, conspiracy seeking mood lately and the newest threat to my sanity is: smoke detectors! Come on, think about it! In all those 911 shows, people wake up and their house is engulfed in flames. The smoke detector either never went off, or went off and the people just slept through it. Okay, fire is loud. And hot...and smoky. If you can sleep through a raging fire, close enough to set off the smoke detector, then you are definitly going to sleep through the smoke detector. Plus, the fire gradually gets louder, and hotter, and smokier. The sleeping person will gradually get used to it (and incorporate it into their dreams). By the time the smoke dector goes off, the fire has drowned it out to no more than an annoying buzz. My point is that smoke detectors have very little value in home security. Okay, one day, in the future, smoke dectectors will probably activate litte fire-fighter bots that every home will have. But untill that day, the concept of the smoke detector is useless. If you're awake to hear it, chances are that you've already noticed the smoke, fire and eminent danger. If you're asleep, the fire will wake you. So, that leads us to the evil paranoid conspiracy I thought of the other night. What if the smoke detectors have tiny litte cameras in them? That would explain that annoying green little blinkie light in them. Unless, of course, the government was smart enough to have cameras without the blinkie light. In any case, wouldn't the blinkie light help night-vision cameras see in the dark? It only takes a little light to help those thingies, and smoke detectors provide more than a little. I can even see the shadow of my hand on the wall from the light those things shed. It's annoying. Here I am, trying to get a decent nights sleep and there's this green light that periodically blinks to red directly in front of me. It's a small light, but it's sooooooo annoying. There MUST be some sort of conspiracy involved, 'cause if there is, I can get rid of the EVIL thing! So, fellow conspiracy nuts: Take down the evil governmental safety device and take it apart. If you can still think during all that incessent beeping, you'll probably find evidence that I'm really paranoid. Or possibly right...that would be scary. In any case...I guess that smoke detectors are a neccesary evil...but...WHY DO THEY HAVE TO HAVE THAT STUPID LIGHT? Does it serve an obvious purpose? No! That's why it MUST be EVIL! You cannot deny the logic of my thinking! Now...I'm gonna go and worry about the light on my toaster oven...seeya! *sighs dramatically* I'm back. It's not fair, ya know? Each Friday, I wait (all tingly with anticipation) for the weekend so that I can stay up 'till the wee hours of the morning and sleep past noon. But my idiotic body has an automatic alarm clock, or something. During the weekdays, I get about seven hours of sleep (usually less) and wake up at 6:11 a.m. Yep. Now, some of you are probably calling me a whiner, 'cause you have to get up at 4:30, or whatever. And lots of you are probably gloating 'cause you don't have to get up 'till 8:30. The reason I have to get up at 6 something is that I...I...I ride the bus to school. Yeah...I know...pathetic. (Believe me, though, you never want to see me drive...I get easily distracted by clouds and signs saying FREE KITTIES!...kitties are hugable...but if you hug them...they'll scratch your eyes out...so then you have to hiss at them and establish dominence...but kitties don't like that...even though dogs do...but kitties are obviously not dogs...even though they are fuzzy.) So...my lack of a car and driving skills force me to use the bus, which comes for me 45 minutes before my school even starts. It's stupid. It only takes me a few minutes to get ready, then I can go back to bed. Now...I bet you're wondering why I don't just wake up a few minutes before I have to go. My sister. My evil, EVIL sister. That's why. She's evil. SHE has to get up at 6:11 to put on make-up, do her hair and basically annoy the heck out of me. So rather than battle her over the concept of getting dressed in the dark, I get up. Oh...I'm rambling again, aren't I? Back to the original topic! So...when the weekend rolls around, I'm fairly exhausted. But, my stupid internal alarm clock is starting to wake me up around six. I can usually fall back asleep (if I don't panic and think I'm late for school), but the stupid thing wakes me up again exactly seven hours after I originally fell asleep. Which is why it's not even 10:00 and here I am, typing. Which I suppose may be a good thing, seeing as how I'm currently in a Longest Text Ever Rivalry with Galaxy Dreamer's site. *cough*She's winning*cough* But that's just because I have so much to do to mantain and update this site, I rarely get a chance to just sit here and type. Oh, and I would like to mention to my *snicker* LOYAL fans that this Longest Text Ever DOES get updated at least once a week, so please, please, please, PLEASE do not read this once, in one sitting and then leave forever, and ever and ever! It makes me sad...*sniffle* Well...I feel better now. Did you know that I now possess a DOMAIN NAME? Yep. That's right! It'll be ready soon, ain't it great? Okay, back to the flaming-chickens LTE rivalry. Another reason why this isn't as long as Galaxy's is that I refuse to write every day as it would--this is the funny part--LOWER THE QUALITY OF MY OVERALL WORK! HA-HA! HILARIOUS! "lower the quality"? Sometimes I crack myself up. If this was quality work, I'd publish it and make a fortune. Speaking of publishing, I do plan on somehow, someday publishing this as the first rambling narrative that makes no sense, and is about as interesting as rereading the almanac. I'd probably losemoney, but the concept is interesting. I think. Anyway, I better go or the quality of this will go down in that evil downward spiral thing I discussed a few months back. Seeya. I'm back. Wooooo! I's can get to my site again! It was down for a whole day or so 'cause of all the traffic I got from my new quizes. I have an extra-special rant for you all today, to celebrate the new domain name! www.flaming-chickens.com! Okay. I am now barophobic (afraid of gravity). I recently learned in my EVIL Physics class that on average, humans lose one inch of height during the day due to gravity pushing on their spine. The height is regained at night, when you're laying down. This naturally alarmed the HECK out of me! GRAVITY IS EVIL! It's pushing down on me, squishing my spine. MY SPINE IS SQUISHY! That's is just so extremly creepy. What if, eventually, Earth's gravity get's very very strong, and we all imploud from the squishyness? It'd be like when you go to the bottom of the ocean, only with gravity instead of pressure...*shudders* Pressure is evil, too. Air pressure. Did you know that there is over two miles of air sitting on you right now? Even though air is light, that much air adds up. TWO MILES? Even the air is conspiring to squish me! If you don't believe that all that air has weight, try going into space sometime. Space is notorious for not having air. When you're in space (without a space suit) you don't SUFFUCATE, you don't FREEZE. You exploud. Since all that nifty air isn't pressin' on you, your guts and stuff are free to go wherever they want, and the EVIL little things decide to roam around. Outside your body. It's creepy. So...air pressure can be a good thing. Even though it gains pleasure from squishing my spine. That's it, I'm gonna take drastic measures! I'm gonna launch THE OFFICIAL FLAMING CHICKENS LUNAR COLONY! The moon has one-sixth of Earth's gravity. And absolutly NO air-pressure. We can all wear spiffy space-suits and feel all superiour to all those stupid earthlings. So...if you wish to contribute to this great and magneficent and magestic and MOOSEY project...we need the following things: 739 rolls of aluminium foil (preferably the extra shiny kind) 417 refridgerator boxes, 9000 rolls of "sticky on both sides" duct tape, 300 lbs of chicken feathers (preferably white) and 1 (one) thermo-nuclear-rocket-thruster. If you can spare any of these items, please e-mail them to me. Yes. E-mail. Did you really think I'd give you guys my ADDRESS? Now...I know what you guys are thinking...some of those items on that list are gonna be hard to find. Especially that duct tape. But, believe me, it's MUCH more practical than the alternative. What is the alternative, you ask? I'll tell you. Making me(The Patron Saint of Paperclips) the Ruler of the Laws of Nature! That way I can just outlaw the need for gravity and air pressure! I'm already half way there, since I conclusivly proved (in Physics class) that gravity actually causes things to slow down and EVENTUALLY GO UP! Sure, my TEACHER said that was because I was doing the problems wrong, but once I'm the Ruler of the Laws of Nature, I'll change the problems so that I'm right! Oooo! I thought of another very good reason to assist with the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony! As we all know, the world is going to end in about 380,695 days! This means that we only have a very short while to prepare. And I sugest that we build the rocket so that we can go to the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony so that we can laugh at the stupid earthlings who are blowing up because they didn't listen to us when we tried to warn them about the impending doom! Once we are on our Lunar Landing Site, we will engage in many exciting activites, primarily related to suffucating and starving. If (and this is a big if) the world DOES survive, we can beg them for food, oxygen and other supplies. They'll probably just call us weird and laugh at us, but that's beside the point! I can even see the Official Flaming Chicken Rocket. It'll be covered in chicken feathers, and shaped like a chicken. The foil will make up the beak and the folded legs, and the thruster can simulate the tail. It will be a truly magestic site, as it launches from the earth, spewing excess oxygen, cardboard, feathers and tape. But, act now, or it will be too late, and you will be one of the losers that we'll be laughing at, assuming we have air to laugh with. Remember, e-mail psopc@flaming-chickens.com the much needed supplies...if that is possible. If not, then some day, when the Internet is down and I'm really bored, I will construct a model OFCR and attempt to launch it. That will be a wonderous day. I think I'll get my little sister to be the test piolet. Well...better go...I need to plan this out more...I'm back. And mildly weirded-out. My dad...was on this site. My dad. It even SOUNDS weird. He took the TAB member quiz and turned out to be me, he took the JOB quiz, and was a repo man (which had a pic of my brother) He said he wanted to see what I was doing, and to make sure that I wasn't saying anything derrogatory about my parents. He looked me upvia yahoo's search engine using flaming-chicken as the keyword. It took him to my quiz page. So he probably didn't see the majority of my site. It's just weird. All along, my entire family has scoffed (nifty word, isn't it?) about my site, and called me weird. I dunno...I guess I'm just kinda freaked out. Oh, and don't forget to celebrate Mad Hatter Day on October the 6th. Seeya. I'm back. I had some conspriacy or another to rant about. But then I listened to some of the new music I put on my site and mellowed out. I can't remember what I was gonna rant about. Oh, yeah. Now I do. "Purified" water. Just wait a sec while I stop the music. *content sigh* There we go...that's much better. Now I can think. That's right, folks. "Purified" water. Now...just stop a second and contemplate that. Pure means, well, no extra stuff. 100% of something. Right? Well, next time you buy your $3 FREAKIN' dollar bottle of water, consider this. On almost all the "purified" water bottles I've ever seen it has the following mesage: "Purified through reverse osmosis. Minerals added for a pure, fresh taste." In other words, they take all that extra "stuff" out to make it pure. Then they add other "stuff" in to make it TASTE pure. But it's not. For all you, the uninformed consumer, could know, it might have rat poison in it. "Pure" water manufactuerers are not required to list the ingredients of water, because the average consumer believes that it should be obvious. But that is false! They add random minerals to our water to make it taste better, and then advertise it as pure! It's an outrage! I'd rather drink the "impure" tap water where at least I KNOW that someone, somewhere tested it. It's a law, I think. But does anyone test "pure" water? Most likely they test it BEFORE they add the extra stuff..."Yep, Bob, this is some mighty pure water." "Yep, Bill, time to dump the arsnic in so it tastes pure!" What kind of reasoning is that? Wouldn't pure water TASTE pure, and impure water TASTE impure? The insanity and stupidity is mind boggling! That's why I like fast-food salt. It actually lists what random minerals they through in to make it TASTE like salt. There's salt, of course, and aluminum sulfate, and other compounds. But the point is, if I were, say, freakily allergic to a random mineral, I could read the ingredients and not eat the salt. That's what they need to do with the water. Or, at the very least, not label it as "pure". Okay. That's the rant of the week, month, year, whatever. I'll probably have another one soon, but that whole water thing has been buggin me for awhile. Well...seeya! Er...yeah...I'm back. It's been awhile, (at least two weeks) since I've written here. I've been obsessed with various webcomics, creating the stupidly long new Phobia Quiz and being maniacly hysterical about my site always being down due to bandwith issues. I'm goin' light on the advertising at the moment, which is why I'm free to write here. I WANT to write. But I can't think of anything to write about. Typical. I finnaly get some free time to rant and rave and all my topics just magically melted away. Let's see...what have I ranted about before, subliminal messages, vast breakfast cereal conspiracies, water, uh...reality tv? And that's just what I can list from memory. Oh, yeah! How could I forget the stupid Tootsie Roll Pop Commercials? TACO is still in my heart. *sighs*...now...let's see...what to rant about today... ... ... ... ... I can't think of anything!? Is this writer's block?! Or maybe I just wanna go to bed. Sleeping is fun. Well...let's see. Did you know that statistics prove that 45% of all statistics are completly made up by me (The Patron Saint of Paperclips)? Well...they are. Ha! I see you have no reaction to that, do you Hypothetical Reader? I have once again caused that explody sensation in your brain meats! You cannot DEFEAT me! I rule the...er...*random Loyal Minion whispers in ear* That's right! I rule the Internet! The Official FLaming-Chickens Handbook already confirms that fact! You CANNOT DENY it! It says that in black and...er lime green! It MUST be true! Because it is in those veyr colors that the Matrix is programmed! Ahhh...I see your confusion! You cannot follow the vast, mind-boggling logic that is ME! Wait...how...how can I BE logic? That doesn't make any sense...you can't BE something abstract...can you? Now MY brain meats feel explody. That's not fair! I see your EVIL plot now, Hypothetical Reader! You just let me rant on and on for you KNEW that eventually I would confuse myself with my vast puddle of knowledge. You are devious...I give you that. Unfortunantly...I must leave...before the confusion spreads and I do something stupid...like revealing my one weakness before you...THAT'S IT! Code 452 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paperclips (ME!!!) does not, has never, and will absolutly NOT admit to having any weakness...besides the aformention indivduals own skin, which isn't even a weakness anyway since no representative of the Dark, Fluffier Side can BE the Patron Saint of Paperclips (Guess, who...no...no...THAT'S IT!) and even if they could it wouldn't do them any good because it would scare them instead of the aformentioned individual. Boy...I really enjoy confusing myself!:) Seeya! I'm baaaaa-ack! Aren't you happy? Here, see if you can find the super-secret message!

'''Whle you wait oresterday's tmorrow, lngebakdmember tht ay. You know e one. Yeah, thdoesn't mean anything to . Ayou surised? viously not. nswer me, you obbreak! ffer my ndingly oronc i.'''

Did you find it? Wasn't it super? And secret? I thought it was. But then, I'm me...and you're you. I think. I'm pretty sure you're not me...but you could be that other guy. Yeah...that...guy...you know who I'm talking about. No? Do not MOCK me! I know where you are right now! Spooky, huh? Ooooo...time for today's topic. My favorite stuff...JTHM...I have my libraries copy of JTHM...I shall quote Noodle Boy for you:) (Full copyright/credit to Jonhnen Vasquez for writin' the stuff, I'm just sharing the spleeny goodness with you). (it's edited, of course, to stay PG13...**** signifies a random naugty word:)) "HEY, DOG ENTITY! RISE UP AND BARE YOUR BISCUIT FILTY FANGS AT THE LEASH WIELDING DEMON!! **** MY NAVEL ITCHES!! MEOW!MEOW!MEOW! CAT CHOW!!! CEASE YOUR FLATULENT WINDS AND HEAR MY MIND NUMBING EXPULSIONS OF WICKED NOISE! GRRR!! CHEESE!!! I SENSE YOUR ENVY OF MY NECK!! AND I DONT BLAME YOU!! DROOOOOL OVER MY MAGICAL POWERS!! I HAVE POWERS PINTO BEANS CAN ONLY DREAM OF! WANNA SEE ME PULL A TAPEWORM OUTTA MY ****!! HUH?!...STARE DEEP INTO THE STINKING ABYSS OF MY INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED SLICES!!! HOLY WAX! CHECK OUT MY ARMPITS!!! HEEEEY! WAIDAMINIT!! WAIT JUST A POLYP PICKING MINUTE!! I SEE YOUR GAME! YOU WILL NOT SINK MY CHEERIO!! I SEE WHAT IS TRANSPIRING HERE!!! YOU'RE ALL ZOMBIE THIGH-FAT PEOPLE BROUGHT INTO ANIMATION BY SOME EVIL FORCE OF FORCEFUL EVIL!!! **** THAT LIPSTICKS THE WRONG COLOR FOR YOU!! MOOOO! WOOF! OH, DON'T YOU SEE THE TOENAILS?!! OH, SO SPLENDID!! A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K...! UNDER SUCH EXTREME HEAT, WEAR AND DEGRADATION IS INEVITABLE!! PARTS BREAK AFTER OVERUSE!! AND THAT IS WHY TOASTER PASTRIES WILL BURST INTO FLAMES IF YOU DON'T KEEP AN EYE ON THEM! Now, wasn't that entertainment. I added to the lenghth of the LTE without even thinking! That's talent. Lots of gooey talent. Unfortunatly, I once again am devoid of a topic. And any weirdness I could come up with would be normal compared to Noodle Boy, so...I bid thee farewell...seeya! I'm back. And I've realized that I am a complete idiot. For an ENTIRE MONTH I have possesed the arcane knowledge, but I forgot to share it with you, my loyal potentially imaginary reader. I know. You're shocked at my selfish, bad, memory. I apologize from the depths of my moosey soul. For, you see...my life long goal has been fufilled...*anticipatory silence*...THERE ACTUALLY IS GRAPE PIE!!!! I know...you are as shocked as I am. One day I was randomly looking up images via Google...and 'lo and behold, there it was. Grape Pie. It was as if it had been just sitting there...waiting for me to discover it. Apparantly Grape Pie isn't mainstream, but it has existed for some time. In obscure cookbooks. Well...that just makes me filled with gooey happiness. Of course, there is also regret...after all, I could have made a fortune if I'd been the first to think of it. Oh, well. There was something else I had to tell you loyal *cricket chirps, someone coughs* fans. I can't remember what. I guess I'll just rant and rave about that whole vicious downward spiral of my writing. I mean, I KNOW people are coming here...I have proof! *holds up a piece of paper, which, from a distance, appears to have writing on it* Yes, undenyable proof! But this proof degrades this mysterious, mystical and mystifying "quality" of my words. After all, how can I be self derisive, and full of low expectations for this site if I KNOW people are here...several thousand of them in fact, in just a few months. It's strange. I felt more fufilled when this site was a barren wastland of useless space. But, if it had remained that way, I would have had no impetus to continue my pointlessly insane ranting. Oh, speaking of insane, I STILL need those much needed supplies for the Official Flaming-Chickens Lunar Colony! No one has even bothered to e-mail them to me...*sniffle*. I needs the duct tape! How can I survive without the sticky goodness? HOW, I ask you!? It cannot be...hmmmm...maybe I should just use IMAGINARY duct tape...it's easier to come by ,but it's much more expensive...I'm not sure what to do. *enter Squirell* What's that, little Squirell? That's just silly. You KNOW I ran out of imaginary money last week when I bought that imaginary country. WHAT!? Just "imagine" I have more!? What a crazy idea. So crazy it just might work! *scrunches eyes and makes funny sounds* Nope. It didn't. I guess I'll just have to wait untill my imaginary clone hijacks that imaginary bank truck. Until then...I have absolutly no imaginary money. What ever shall I do? I won't be able to feed my various imaginary pets and friends their beloved imaginary food! Squirell? You gots extra money, don't you? *nods* I thought so. You give to me? No? I gives you imaginary IOU's...here...yours. Thank you Squirell. *Squirell wanders off in search of electrical sockets to sniff* What's that, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know who Squirell is? You haven't been paying attention have you? She's my little puppy...she fears grape flavored stuff, wind, rain, television, noise, silence, small children and pretty much everything. She likes sniffing potentially dangerous stuff, like electrical sockets. Surely you have heard of her? Still no? Oh, well. You know...I enjoy having these conversations with you. It really lets me get to know you. What's that? You say I'm really just talking to myself? What an eccentric idea! To think, YOU are trying to tell ME that YOU aren't here. How absurd. After all, I'm talking to you, aren't I? *nods* Well, yeah...I KNOW I'm actually typing instead of talking. Wait a minute...so you're saying that I'm talking and responding to you, but you won't be reading this until long after I have finished typing? Now who's the crazy one? For that theory to work, I'd have to be psychic...or in possesion of a freaky time-traveling computer. Because what you're saying is that I'm talking to people in the future. That my words somehow travel accross time (if only a few minutes) and are somehow picked up by future you, and that my responses are dictated by future you's reactions. What? You mean that I'm just randomly responding regardless of your reactions? Why, that would be insane, wouldn't it? That's the point you're trying to get across? *pauses* Oh. I see. You wanna play that way. Well...two can play by THOSE rules. You wanna try to convince me I'M crazy? Well, look at you? How do you know I even exist? For all you know you could be staring at that freaky 3-D maze screen saver with a blank look on your face while you THINK you're reading an inhumanly long text. For all you know, you could be halucinating my entire site! For that matter, how do you know that ANYTHING but you exists! You could be floating out in empty space, conjuring nice little fantasies to relieve the monotony of being the only living being! Every single person you know could just be figments of your imagination, you could even be in a crazy house! Not only that, but how do you know that YOU actually exist? You could be the figment of someone else's dream. What would happen when that dreamer woke? Are you happy? You got me started. I may NEVER shut up. I'll just go on and on about how crazy you COULD be. All because YOU tried to convince me that I was crazy. *blinks* And I STILL can't remember what else I was gonna say to you people. Strange, huh? Well, I better leave before I go on and on about more "reality" theories. Makes you wonder about "reality" television, huh? Seeya. I'm back. Grrrr...I had a nifty rant all planned out in my head. And then I was unable to get on the computer and I forgot most of it. Oh, but I did remember what else I wanted to say to you people. Remember that rant I did on how there could be a secret camera in the smoke detector? I few months ago I saw a movie about that. It was pretty good. Maybe I'd seen it before, and that's where I got the idea. I forgot it's name. Well...I DO have a special treat for you weirdos who apparantly like wasting time! Today, in my (Honors) English class, we did group work. My group...well...we either went hysterical or crazy, I can't decide which. We had to do an essay on a book. There was a sample essay online. It sucked. It tooked about envelooping (enveloping) cracked nuts and parables. So we were already off to a bad start. Here is the sum total of my group's work. (Note: I wrote virtually none of this, so I cannot be blamed, credited with any of this. "Lots of death, lots and lots of death in this section. Death is like life in that after you die some things start life again inside of you. 'Ah the power of cheese!' The author's vision was unique in that only he put biscuits and death in the same sentence. 'I found nothing else to do but to offer him on of my good Swede's ship's biscuits I had in my pocket'" And we're supposed to be GOOD in English! We KNEW how terrible it was, but we just didn't bother to change it. Especially the part about the biscuits and cheese. We just picked random words in the selection and wrote about them. It was sad. In any case, I hope you enjoyed our patheticness. Seeya! I'm back. Today I will be mercifully brief. I am here to bring AWARNESS to your moosey soul! Right now, while you are sitting in your "chair" and eating your "junk food", millions of almonds are commiting suicide. Yes...that's right...suicide. I was alerted to this growing problem in our world community by (Kat, the ruler of all that is almondy)...and it greatly concerns me. People just don't realize that their almonds and mixed nuts may be having depression and other problems. We need to act now! For more information, e-mail  EnpuUnknown@msn.comWell...seeya! I'm so very, very tired. Today was Halloween. I worked for four hours at the "Library of Terror" sponsered by TAB. TAB members got pizza...lots of pizza...and candy. Ugh. It was fun, but exhausting. I was almost completly covered in (fake) blood...it was sticky toward the end. One guy was a "shock therepy" patient...he was a good actor. He acted like he was really being tortured and stuff. I'm tired. I bet you couldn't tell. Why am I writing? Because this is the first time I've been on a computer all day. You can't blame me. Don't worry, I'll go to bed soon. In the mean time, I'll just sit here and type with my eyes closed. It's hard to type because of the bandaid on my finger. I accidently cut it with scizzors. It hurt. The fake blood seeped into the open wound. Gee...I sure hope it wasn't poisonous. If so, I guess I won't be writing here for quite awhile...seeya. Okay, this next rant has nothing to do whatsoever with Halloween...which is to be expected because it's been several days since then. Anyway, today's rant is about one of my many and various pet peeves: fasion and...stuff. My definition of fasion includes clothes, shoes, jewelery and all things of that nature. Now, don't get me wrong. I can appreciate a spiffy black outfit as much as the next person, but everytime I consider actually buying clothes for aesthetic value, I think about how I could better spend my money. On video games. Sure, some of this "fasion" stuff is cool and all, but all it shows is that you had the three and three-quarters brain cells required to copy someone else's "look". And don't even get me started on earrings. My little, eviler sister got her ears pierced when she was relativly younger. My mom did it to her because it was free. OF FREAKIN' COURSE IT WAS FREE! Just like thos so called "diet supplements" that give you a "free" sample because they know that once you try it, you'll like it so much you'll spend oodles of cash on it. (There's probably drugs in it). Anyway, like the "diet supplement" people, the earring manufacturers KNOW that once they pierce you, you'll be hooked for life. *pauses* *groans* I'm sorry for that pun (pierced, hooked, getit?). AS soon as you're pierced, you have to buy "starter" earrings. Then you'll need an "extra" pair...for special occasions. Before you know it you'll realize that you need Christmas earrings, Halloween earrings, Valentine's Day earrings, St. Patrick's Day earrings, for crying out loud! You'll wear these "festive" earings for about a day and then abandon them in some dark cranny of your closet because you simply can't wear the same earrings two years in a row for heaven's sake! Then you'll see these cute little "days-of-the-week" earrings at the mall, and you'll just have to get a few sets, just in case you lose some. By the time you're eighty, you'll have enough ear jewelry to open up your own jewelry shop. Of course, you won't want to do that becuase you still need more earrings so people won't think you wear the same ones over and over again. When I think of how much money people WASTE on appearences, it makes me feel like projectile vomiting. If that's not a vast conspiracy, then nothing on this Earth is. Now, I'm not speaking from personal experience here. No one I know is that obsessed with earrings, it was just an example. (Although my mother does have a "earring tree".) Sure, certain members of my family do pay WAY to much attention to fasion, but that's just because of the expectations of society. I, being weird, am pretty much immune to such expectations. Except those specially formulated for weird-o's like me. If I were to suddenly convert this entrie site into a *shudders* Backstreet Boys fan site or something, you wouldn't be any more suprised than I would be if my brother woke up one day and suddenly realized that he's shallow. It's the same concept. (No, I don't like any of those creepy "pop" stars. I think that they should routinly die a slow, savage, agonizing death...I was just saying a random thing that I would never, ever do.) Well...any way...seeya! I'm back. And today's rant is a sort of philosophical one. It's about the (supposedly) infinite nature of the universe. Suprised? It's spiffy. You see, if the universe is indeed infinite, that means that literally EVERYTHING is possible, and in fact, is happening somewhere in the universe. Think about it. No matter how unlikely something is, if the universe is infinite, it's happening an infinite number of times. Think about that old saying about "If you gave an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters, eventually they would reproduce the entire works of Shakespear". That makes complete and total sense! Anyone just randomly typing letters will eventually accidently write a word, right? Now think of 100 people typing randomly. You figure that one of those 100 people would actually have a coherent phrase. And one out of a million people would probably have a few sentences. So if you have an infinite number of people, some are going to have entire books of coherent stuff. And, you have to remember that because infinity is infinite, you can divide it an infinite number of times. Try it. If you have a decent graphing calculator, plug in the infinity symbol divided by anything, (even infinity). The answer is still infinity. Using my philosopy, that EVERYTHING exists because the universe is infinite...well...think about it. In some far off world, there are pokemon...there are an evil race of muffin like creatures, there is a world with ABSOLUTLY NO COMMERCIALS DURING TELEVISION! I know, unlikely, huh? But somewhere, it exists. Think about it. If the universe is infinite it would be crazy to think that we're alone. With an infinite universe, there are infinite possibilites. There ARE aliens. Not only that, but there are an infinite number of different kinds of intelligent life. Which means that there are an infinite number of worlds with humanoid life. (Think of the fake-looking Star Trek aliens). If there are an infinte number of worlds with human life, than there are an infinte number of worlds that have someone exactly like you, with only a few key differences. (Like alternate dimensions and stuff) So, there is a world where you are the creator of this Longest Text Ever. There is a world where you are a faerie. There is a world where you were never born. There is a world where you are a slave to your TOASTER OVEN. The possibilities are literally endless. Every fantasy the human mind has concieved exist at some place in the universe. There are an infinite number of worlds with Harry Potter. Think about it. I came up with this philosophy when I was in fifth grade. I'd tell it to my little brother as a bed time story. He always enjoyed it because it meant that somewhere, he was the Supreme Dictator of the Galaxy. That made him happy. He ignored the fact that he was also a 72 year old "sanitation engineer" somewhere. All the good possibilities effectivly cancel out the bad ones, leaving the sum total of you and your counterparts experiences as nothing. You don't have the best life of your counterparts, but you don't have the worst either. Because that would be impossible. There is always someone worse off and better off than you. Because there are an infinite number of people on either side of the spectrum. Confusing, huh? But that's the kind of thing I like. That also explains why normal stuff confuses me. I'm sure some so called "scientist" can prove all my theories wrong...but how? How do you PROVE something is not infinite? You'd have to find the end, of course. But how, may I ask, can you find the end of the FREAKIN' universe? What, is there a giant sign saying, "DEAD END"? The universe is EVERYTHING, how can it end? At the same time, how can you prove something IS infinite? You could travel in a straight line at the speed of light for a million years and all you'd prove is that the universe is really, really big. But you'd never prove it was infinite. How could you? Our mind's cannot conceive of the vastness of infinity. We'd probably go crazier. In any case, my theory means that playing video games is very cruel. Why, you ask? Because in some world, the video game is real. So when you kill, or whatever, in the game, you are actually ending life somewhere in the universe. Of course, you also end life by sneezing, eating, sleeping, and watching T.V. According to my theory that everything is real. Of course, if everything is real...then the Universe is pretty contradictory. The paradox of my system of beliefs leads me to believe that the universe, in fact, is not infinite. Because nature supposidly abhors a paradox. Although, as I said, there's no way to prove me wrong OR right. That's what I like about making abstract theories... Anyway, sorry for the lack of relative weirdness, conspiracy theories and doughnuts (my Moose ate them all). Well...now that I think about it...according to my theory, ALL conspiracies are real and mislabled "paranoid" people are really the only ones who see the truth. *blinks* Wow...so I'm NOT paranoid. Who'da thought it? Well...better go before one of my two and half sane readers falls asleep:) Seeya! I'm back! Boy, are you mythical, mystical readers in for a treat, today! I have a guest rant/fake commercial written by "Meg" (who is once again banned from accessing the almighty Internet). Are you ready? No? Too Bad! ''The magic eight-ball glows with knowledge! With a shake, the future is revealed! The magic eight-ball is a plastic casing with an unknown, possibly toxic liquid inside. The future is determined by the triangles, in a startling blue color which spin around in a zany manner. Wheather you're saved or doomed, find out now! Is that old lady on the street corner really an ex-convict? Is fat-free food more delicious than food loaded with fat? Is your school playground a gateay to the underworld? All this information and more is yours for the low, low price of 5 payments of $29.99! And, if you call within the next ten minutes you get a free eight ball with the one you buy! But wait! There's more! Get the free Lil' Ball for your traveling needs! Warning: this product is illegal in most states)'' Wasn't that entertaining? "Meg" wrote it for a school assignment. We were supposed to write about a cherished child-hood toy, and attempt to turn our fond memories into a commercial. I wrote about furby, and how it was fun to watch it die. No, really. Somehow, I managed to make my furby die. It would sneeze, then start it's eight-hour-long death hum. It would hum, and hum, and hum...and then mercifully die. I don't exactly have a good track record with virtual pets. I once...*embarassed pause* had "Hey, You! Pikachu!"...a pokemon game. I'll only say that it was the first game you could "talk" to and was the first (and only) N64 virtual pet. Pikachu...well...he didn't like me. I gave him cupcakes, and presents, and did everything I could to befriend him! And what did he do to me? He snuck up on me one day in our room (in the game) with a sword! That's right, a sword! He tried to kill me! I heard something and turned around, and there he was! He even tried to hide the sword behind his back! When I tried to talk to him, he tossed it away nonchalantly and pretended he hadn't heard me. Then he preceeded to trash my room, scattering kleenex everywhere. I'm pretty sure that the "smelly yellow ball" that he started throwing was his own feces (poo). That dirty little rat. Awwww...isn't he cute? Hmmmm...I suppose I should clarify that the Pikachu game was 3-D and your character was in first person mode(you see through character's eyes). Otherwise you'd think I was delusional, or something. Everyone I know who has played that game is shocked when I tell them...oh, well. Speaking of virtual pets, I'm revamping the ones on this site. I've finnally figured out sorta, maybe, kinda, how to do stuff to make it more real. Anyway, seeya! OOooooo! I'm back, and I had yet another Asparagus War with some people. We made a guild, and I wrote out the transcripts of the first ever Asparagus War in narrative form (mock epic, very cheesey) Since it's very, very long, I'll post it here to meet my imaginary word quota for the day! Oh, and all those weird squiggly lines and symbols, those are supposed to be apostrophes, but neopet's code is weird, and I'm not gonna bother to edit it. Enjoy! Hello, everyone! This is one of the weirdest sites: or your money back! We have ZIM, neopets, music, and much, much, more. E-mail us for questions, comments, complaints and information. Why not click on the Very Weird Stuff link to see more, or click on the music link? We have halloween and christmas pictures on the NeoPics link. Cheese is not a wild thing!!!!!!!!! Now I have decided to go for a world record. I will try to make the longest web page ever, made completely out of text! Won't that be fun? I will just type, and type, and never, ever use copy and paste. Wow...I really must be bored. Just goes to show what boredom can do to you. Any way, that's it for now. Wait, no it isn't, I still have to keep going, and going, and going. Because I do. THE REST OF THE STUFF I TYPE WILL BE COMPLETLY IN CAPS JUST BECAUSE I CAN. THAT IS ALL. SEEYA! Hi, I'm back. So far this is nowhere near the world record. I think. I don't exactly know where it is...oh, well. I'll just have to do the very best that I can. No one is really coming here, anyway. So it doesn't matter. By the way, TAB is a worthwhile, community-service organization. The form link is to a 100% fake TAB registration form that you can fill out just for laughs. I can't believe I'm bothering to do this. I have very low expectations of my site. None ever comes here, I could do this all day long and I still wouldn't have any more hits. This is just a pointless excursive in spelling errors and grammatical imprecision. May your day be shiney! The following is an extremely weird poem-thingy that I wrote when I was in a relatively weird mood: never mind that noise my dear can anyone pass the cheese only if you say pretty please oh, boy do I have to sneeze. why must everyone always rhyme, why I’m a poet and don’t I know it? what I fear comes right after here not this life or the next will I ever be able to pass the test? we’re stuck in here, (alone my dear) and we’ll problem never get out so don’t start to shout. it’s dark and I want to go home is where the heart was where is it now? we’ll never know but oh crap it’s starting to snow and it’s time to show and tell about the well that you found last summer at camp when it was damp it was near the ramp oh god why must this be I liked that tree but now it’s gone, farewell so long I’ll miss you as long as you write but then I’m afraid to say good-night. my dear there’s nothing to fear that’s only a box that’s made of blocks next to the wagon that looks like a dragon why are you shaking it’s your fear that is making you shiver and act all a quiver. don’t you know that you only need be afraid of fear and never anything here and certainly not a post that acts like a ghost? See, very weird. At least it fills up my word quota for the day. Not that I exactly have a word quota for the day. It just sounded very professional to say it. Anyway, I still don't think that anyone is actually coming here. You'd have to be an absolute loser (or really bored) to come here. I'd probley come here, but that isn't much of a surprise. After all, I've been to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website over 50 times. Pathetic. But, whatever. As long as I'm happy, right. Humor the crazy person, okay? Oh, guess what? According to someone you problem don't know, this is the second most pointless website ever! Next to the Really Big Button, of course. I feel special. Come on everyone, group hug. Okay, now I'm starting to scare myself...I'm gonna quit for today. Seeya. Now I'm back. Is this getting confusing to you? Too bad. Now I want you to go to http://quiz.ravenblack.net/blood.pl?biter=eon" If you do this I'll get points in the game. Come on all you non-existing people! Help me! You know you want to! It's a worthy cause! Honestly, the more time I waste playing the game, the less time I'll work on this site and the less stuff you gotta read. Although why you'd be here if you didn't want to read is beyond me. Maybe you're lost. Okay, if you want to get out, click the little refresh button, okay? Good...what? You say it didn't let you out? Oh, well. You must be caught in a time warp. Keep pressing it. Maybe you'll break free. What's that. The little counter at the bottom keeps going up? Never mind. That's just how many times you have to click before you can leave. Good-bye. Hey, I'm once again: back. I don't suppose you fell for that little thing about the refresh button. After all, you're a responsible, intelligent person who apparently has a lot of time on your hands. Well, you can't possibly have more time than I do. I mean, after all, I made this site. You're only browsing it. And most people don't even come here. Not even my friends...*sniffle* The just ignore this poor, pathetic little page. All they do is fill out the TAB form and leave. I think. Maybe they're here right now! HI! HOW ARE YOU DOING? I'M FINE! THANKS FOR COMING! YES, I'M YELLING! Who am I kidding. This page won't get a single hit, unless I bribe people...now that has possibilities. Okay, fill out the TAB form, so I have proof that you bothered to come here and...uh...I'll...uh...send you a sandwich? Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'm bored. I'm gonna go hug a moose. MOOSE! I love-d you moose! Hey, I'm back again! Yea...*waits for applause* okay! Now I want all you loyal fans...*cricket chirps* to go to the link to see what I'm like. I took a whole bunch of personality quizzes and posted them there. I'm an evil villain, kitty and a freakazoid so far. And I only took the quiz once, too. Spooky how accurate they are...anyway, I command you to go! I'm going. I'm back. I'm gonna start counting how many times I say back. Let's see: 1...2...3...4...5! Wow. I must really be desperate for something to do. I now officially have proof that someone has been here! It was one of my friends. Apparently this page really is getting long, because my friend said something to that effect. Maybe. Anyway, moving on! I'm just basically typing nothing. Just like all those reports people have to do. You know? With a specific number of words. They start out with half that number, and then just fill in words until they have the right amount. I salute those people. You're great tradition is being carried out here, on the second most pointless site ever! Well. Maybe eventually some weird, bored person will wander onto my site on accident and be mildly entertained be my site until they wander onto a live video feed of a coffee maker. Or maybe not. I only know that I'm entertaining me, which was my original goal. So. I've done what I've set out to accomplish. Yea, me! I'm so special. You see, most people, they don't like reading or writing. So if you're not most people, you've made it down this far without skipping, skimming or getting the spark notes version. (Which I think does not exist) My point is, if you've bothered to read this, then, (like me) you probley have also read the ketchup bottle so many times that you have it down verbatim. Look verbatim up. It's a word. But, you should know that, since you like reading. Or maybe you're just skimming. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with reading food labels. You might be asked a question about them on a quiz show. And now, for the million-dollar question: How many calories are there in a single serving of Mustard? I can just see it now...It could be called Know-Your-Food. Or You are What you Eat. It'd probley be as popular as those game shows that no one's ever heard of. Speaking of food, what's up with pie? There's strawberry pie, apple, pumpkin and so many others, but there is no grape pie! I know. I'm just as upset about this unfortunate lack of development in the pie division. Think about it. Grapes are used to make jelly, jam, juice and raisins. What makes them undesirable for pie? Would they dry into raisins? Couldn't you just stick some jelly in a piecrust and bake it? It just doesn't make any sense. Another thing that bothers me is organ grinders. You know, the foreign guys with the bellhop hats and the little music thingy and the cute little monkey with the bellhop hat who collects the money? Okay. They're basically begging on the street. How did they ever afford an organ-thingy? Wouldn't it make more sense to get a kazoo, if you're broke? And if they're so poor, what possessed them to buy a monkey? I mean, I don't think I could afford a monkey, and I'm not exactly on the streets. Obviously I at least have a computer...so, back to the organ grinders. I would have sold the monkey and the organ and been able to eat for at least a year. Or, if I was weirder than I am, I could at least kill the monkey with the organ and eat it. Why on earth did they keep the monkey? It must have cost a fortune to feed...not to mention the mess. That's just one of those many facts of life that are better left mysteries. Especially since no one but me would ask the question. I better go. I think I hear a monkey...Okay...now I'm back. That's the sixth time I've said back! I realize that this longest text ever must be very boring and not worth anyone's time. But I'd like to take this time to thank the 2 and 1/2 people in the entire universe who have bothered to read this entire thing. I'm not exactly sure who they are, but: thanks! Right now, my spacebar is malfunctioning...that's not good...I have to press it two or three times just to insert a freaking space. Maybe the evil little faeries with the sharp little teeth have put their evil faerie dust on my computer. Or maybe not. This is too frustrating. Goodbye for now...Now I'm back. And still frustrated. But for a different reason. Today I had the misfortune of playing a Treasure Planet game on neopets.com It was terrible. Apparently the point of the game was to get your character to shout "Whoo-Hoo!" as many times as possible before you splattered your brains on the rocks, all the while listening to a soundtrack that is similar to a dying ceiling fan. Of course, when I started out I accidentally hit the rocks approximately three million times. Halfway though I used my four remaining brain-cells to decide that the game was dumb. So my goal changed from surviving to laughing evilly while my character died. So the game naturally did everything it could to preserve my life. The stupid game is still going on and I refuse to quit because I want my points. My character is actually dodging the stupid rocks better now then when I controlled him. I hate irony. Seeya. Okay. Now I'm back again. Today I added an update page, which is basically a less chaotic, outlined version of this without all the ranting. It's more like techno talk about arrays and how much I suck and whether or not the Braves will win this year. Okay, the whole braves thing is made up. But everything else I've said so far is true. I think. Maybe I should start on a boring disclaimer...Eh-hem. All contents of this site were designed for entertainment purposes only. Any use thereof that is not stated in the above mentioned statement would make the author, hereby referred to as Patron Saint of Paper Clips, very angry. Should you violate the purpose of this site: i.e. become not entertained, the Patron Saint of Paper Clips will be forced to take drastic measures. This is specified in Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook. Ooooo…that’s a great idea! I’m gonna start quoting from the Flaming Chicken Handbook! Code: 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (that’s me) is allowed to cause vague, pain like sensations while the offending person (or alien life form, dog, etc.) isn’t paying attention. Now I have a purpose in life! To make up quotes from the non-existent Flaming Chicken Handbook, which I’m sure you have a copy of. No? Too bad. It’s in the mail, I promise! Now I must take my leave…and remember. Cheese is watching. Okay...I'm back...I think that eventually half of this thing will consist of the word back over and over again...that's just weird. Which fits the motif of the rest of the site. There's even a money back guarantee. Isn’t' that nice? See? Now no one can ever say that I don't take care of my viewers. Especially since I don't have viewers. I have readers. Wait...I really don't even know if anyone bothers to read this. Even if I put it in a less chaotic, more user-friendly format people would still ignore this because it involves: reading. Yes. Sad to admit, but the majority of people would rather read the summary at the back of a book rather than the whole book itself. What has the world come to? It's pathetic. Especially since I'm bothering to write all this. It's not fair! Why can't I have more readers?! All the other internet writers have nothing on me, except they're better at advertising, having a central theme/plot and basically more talented. Whereas I'm more into the whole ranting and raving stage right now. Plus, I am horrible at spelling. Which is bad. Thank the powers that be for spell-check. The single greatest invention of the computer gods. I'm getting bored, so I think I'm done for the day. May your day be shiney! I'm back again! And I feel weird! I found at that yet another one of my friends is reading this. Creepy. Just how much time do they have on their hands. Perhaps their just trying to be nice. I can just see it now...an organization devoted not to feeding the hungry, or peace, or love or whatever, but to giving recognition to all those poor, pathetic, unpopular websites. I wonder what it's name would be. Don't Ignore Sites? Would it be called DIS? Isn't that like a slang term for an insult? Would that be considered poetic justice, or just a nice coincidence? And why do I even care? I'll tell you why. Because I have nothing else to do right now. I could be playing neopets, but ever since my bad experience with Treasure Planet, I don't feel like it. Oh, by the way, I noticed that whenever I use spell-check, my stupid computer turns the word probley into to word problem. To prevent this, I did nothing. So, it is now up to you, the imaginary reader, to decide whether I mean probley or problem...it's almost like a game! But without the bad sound track. And I promise not to force you to live when you would rather die. Moving on, I have nothing else to say, but don't feel like quitting just yet. I'm like the little engine that could. Or maybe the Energizer Bunny. I just keep going, and going and going. Or I could be like that annoying guy on T.V. who keeps asking if you can hear him. If my site manages to last a decade, my readers *snicker* will probley wonder what I'm talking about. My answer is simple. It doesn't matter. I'm just rambling. Which means that it doesn't matter if you understand anything I say. Doesn't that make you feel better? I bet it does. Wow. Look how long this has gotten. I even impress myself. Who would have thought I have this much free time? And I congratulate any reader who has gotten this far. Ooooooo! You must check out the fortunes section of the random stuff page! I've just gotten an idea for some more, original, fortunes...I gotta go!(may the moose be with you) And now I am back. I swear. If iI fill out the fake tab form I'm gonna have to put back as my favorite word...I already have filled it out, though. Would it be cheating to fill it out again? Only if I had multiple personalities. Or would it be cheating if I didn't have multiple personalities? The world may never know. Just like how many licks it takes to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop. Would it vary? The number of licks, I mean. Someone could have super-disolving spit, or watery-spit. Or what if you took big ol' slobbery licks? Does the commercial take that into account? No. It doesn't. And let me tell you, it's an outrage. It deludes all of American's sweet, innocent, candy-loving children into thinking that a cartoon owl is smarter than they are! "Mr. Owl, can you tell us how many licks does it take to get to the bottom of a tootsie pop?" Or whatever. And "Mr. Owl" replies "One...Twoo...Three! Chomp" And he bites it. That teaches our youth that it's okay to agree to help someone, and then ruin their experiment. Well...it's not. I am going to start a protest group. Teens Against Cartoon Owls. We could call ourselves TACO! I love the little tacos, I love them good! That is a direct quote from GIR, co-star and comic-relief on INVADER ZIM. Hmmmm...intersting. I put hyphens in both of his titles...it must be a conspiracy! I gotta go. Those TACO buttons don't make themselves, you know. I'm back again. And not so cheesed off about the whole tootsie roll pop thing. Right now, I have another twenty minutes on the Internet before I'm gonna watch T.V. And I can't think of anything else to do. So, predictably, here I am. It's not like I have anything better to do. Obviously, you know this. After all, look how long this text is. I wonder if I've made the world record? If I did, would I stop this? Why bother asking? I'll will most likely still be adding to this on my death bed. Hmmmmm...has any old, senile person ever written anything? Was it coherent? Did it make more sense that this text? Is it possible to make less sense? Am I enjoying asking retorical questions? Yes. Yes, I am. But I seriously wonder what something written by a senile person would be like. I've heard of poems and stuff written by people who were high, insane or paranoid. But never senile. Can a senile person write? Aren't they regressed to a child-like state? Does it even matter? Is anyone even reading this? Did I resume asking retorical questions? Do you care? Is this eating up time? I feel like I'm playing questions only on whose line is it anway. I probley should have capitalized something, or underlined but I'm feeling lazy...hey, you try to keep your two and a half readers happy! It's really stressfull. Someday, I'm gonna snap and just delete this entire thing. Gee, I hope not! I worked sorta hard on this. It's great for making random topics weave together to form an overall infrastructure of chaos. That made little sense. That's why it's here, and not some critically acclaimed site. Ooooooooooooo! I'm gonna quote from the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK again! Yep! I bet you were just breathless in anticipation. Okay. Here goes. Code: 472 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that this site in no way aknowledges the existance of other, better sites (hereon reffered to as the Losers) The Losers are a myth. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips (me again!) claims no knowledge as to where that particullary nasty rumor started, but confirms that this is the best site ever. It would be a sin against humanity for a better site to exist. Should you refuse to aknowledge the Patron Saint of Paper Clips as the ruler of the Internet, you will be subjected to punishment as stated in Code 343 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook (i.e. Experience vague, pain-like sensations when you're not paying attention) This has been a public service announcement. This is a test, I repeat only a test. Had this been an actual emergency, we would have bought up all the can openers and charged 3 cows and a pig for each one. I repeat, lock all you doors and windows, this is it. I repeat, there is nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. The end is not here. I'm going, you're on you're own! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm back!*smiles brightly* And apparantly delusional! Anyway, I just finished rereading my longest text ever. And I became inspired to talk about nothing. You see, I periodically read the longest text ever to check the constant downward spiral of my sanity. Hmmm...I seem to be entertaining myself though, even while reading what I wrote. Which is why I still go to the Really Really Big Button That Doesn't Do Anything website. Because I am easily amused and have lots and lots of time on my hands. Maybe, some day far in the future (like next Thursday) I'll print a copy of this insane text. And then go door to door distributing it. Eventually, this would become a monthly tradition. Whole families would gather around their front door, in breathless anticipation while they attempted to barracade me out. I can just see the whole community rising to thwart my attempts to spread love, joy and insane chaos. I probley wouldn't actually print this out (think how much paper it would take!) but if I do, only friends and enemies will receive copies. Hmmmm...maybe my condition is worsening. Or not. I'm still peeved about the cartoon owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercials. He is pure evil. TACO will eventually destroy him. Unless he has already been destroyed by an even more radical Anti-Cartoon-Owl group. I hope not. Or, would that be good? I suppose I could let someone else have the glory. After all, I'm not in this line of buisness for the fame, fortune and power. What line of buisness, do you ask? Why, the assasinating annoying cartoon characters buisness. (Actually I just question them untill they spontaneously combust, I ask lots of questions) So, in conclusion, ladies and gentleman of the jury(that's you) I could not have possibly tortured "Mr. Owl" to death. I love owls. Hmm...I seem to be jumping from one subject to another more frequently. Either I am growing more comfortable with my on-line writing, or I am progressivly getting more insane and chaotic. I also am psyco-analyzing myself a lot today...hmmmm...I'm even saying "hmmmmm..." a lot. Just like a real psychologist. Hmmmmmmm. Time for another boring disclaimer!!!!!!! Code: 742 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that in no part does the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (That's still me!) actually claim to be mentally ill. That's either a) a publicity stunt b) An attempt at humor c) a cry for help or d) none of the above You can e-mail your responses by conducting a scavenger hunt of this site. Some of the pages of this site contain a link encouging the two and a half people to e-mail the Patron Saint of Paper Clips. There may also be evil little links that are designed to confuse you. These links send stuff to someone named johnjones333@hotmail.com The Patron Saint of Paper Clips does not know who this individual is, but sincerly wishes that you send all your hate mail to him. Not that the aformentioned individual claims to have received hate mail (or mail of any kind) via a website link. Thank-you for your time. Remember to send your answers to my sanity quiz to the e-mail account, flamingchickens333@hotmail.com Oh, and once I refer to myself in the first person again, the handbook quote is over. I just thought that I might like to mention that. Oh. You're still here. I figured you rush right on over to e-mail me. Perhaps you don't have time to waste e-mailing me. HA! HA! HA! That's funny!!!! If you you don't have time to waste, what are you doing here?!!! Oh, who am I kidding. I figure that even the people I manage to lure onto my site from neopets don't even bother to come to this particular page. Maybe I should make the link come here directly...Hey! What a good idea! That way I can spread my love, joy and insane chaos to more people! I'm a genius. Gotta go, must lure innocent victems to the second most pointless site ever!!!! I'm back. And really angry, and confused. I've always known that I was weird, that's always been a given. But now I realize that I am considerably more normal than the rest of my family. Today we had a "family outing." Now, most families will go bowling, or putt-putt golfing. They may go to a resteraunt with an arcarde, or the movies or to a theme park. Not my family! No, we got the greatest family outing of all. We got to go to a bar and play pool!!!!!*waits for readers to become insanely jealous* Yep, that's right, a bar with a pool table! Not only did we get world class cuisine (under-cooked hotdogs and over-cooked hamburgers), my little sister (age 10) got taught pool by someone I strongly supect is an ex-convict! Naturally when it was announced that we'd be eating dinner in this place, I could hardly contain my excitment(I glared at my mother and asked why we couldn't go to Pizza Hut) When we arrived, we were promptly served (after thirty minutes) In the meantime, we played a family game of pool(my parents played while my brother and sister and I watched) After two rousing rounds, our food came. The food was superb, (our food came the exact opposite of how we ordered it, and half of the onion rings were missing) Then we joyfully returned to our game(my sister and the ex-con played my mom) We spent hours there (from 5p.m.-7:15p.m.) There were many people that were the same age as me and my siblings (no one in the room but us were under 30) Us kids had to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bar ( I almost fell asleep during the last game I watched) As we left, there was a feeling of goodwill and fellowship between all(my sister locked me out of the car and wouldn't let me in untill I started yelling profanity in her general direction) The high point of the entire night was when my mother gave me $21 for my report card. She promptly borrowed $1 to help with the waitresses tip(This part I'm not being sarcastic about) All in all it was a night I'll remember forever (as the lowest point in "family outing"history, except for that time my mom dragged me to a church thing on the concept of truth.) My brother(age 13) even decided upon a new job he wants when he's old enough to work, a busboy at the bar. We had to tell him that he would probley have to wait untill he was 21.(Absolutly nothing about that statement was sarcastic) As you can see, I love my families outings(Not unless you're blind...or stupid) &#!#%&&!!!(*%$ WHAT THE %$#@ WAS MY MOTHER $#$#%$# THINKING!!!!!!!???? BRINGING $#$$# KIDS IN A BAR!? I know it was her idea, 'cause my dad hates it, too. My mom and my stupid little 10-year old sister loves it, though. *sighs* Why does my life have to be so weird? I'm leaving...now I'm back! And not so pissed at my weird family. Now is the time to mourn the loss of one of my most loyal readers (I think she's read the entire thing one time, which is more than anyone else has done so far) She has been banned from accesing any portion of the Internet, do to reasons that must remain confidental due to security reasons. If I told you, I'd have to kill you and all that stuff. So...now I am down to one and a half readers. Untill such time that I have more. I wonder why anyone would read this? You would have to have several characteristics that I possess. First of all, you'd have to have an extrodinary amount of free time. Second of all, you would have to have the patience to read through all of this. And lastly, you'd have to know where the heck this site is. I admit it. I haven't exactly advertised this site. Nor can I find it on any search engines. Some of my pages have stuff written in to make search engines recognize me, but it doesn't seem to be working. What must I do to rise above obscurity? I tell people I know about this site, but they either ignore this page, or don't even bother coming to the site in the first place. I suppose that is the bane of all authors. To pour your heart and soul into a passage, and have everyone ignore it. *sniffle* Why must this be? Maybe I should just give up. After all, no one would really care if I quit updating this site. But I can't help but think of stuff like the evil over lord list and REALLY REALLY BIG BUTTON THAT DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. They are not great neccesarily because of the content, (although that helps some) they are great because of their sheer length. You can read a little each day. And almost never finish. Also, I guess I still am trying to get the world record. I have heard some feedback suggesting that I make someway for people to remember where they stopped reading. It can be very confusing, especially if you weren't paying attention in the first place. Well, I dont want to organize this page, in any manner. This is chaos. And insanity. Not neat little text in classifiable rows, in alphabetical order. If you want neat, go to some other site(though, as mentioned in Flaming Chickens Code:472 there is no such thing as a site better than this one). Otherwise, I guess you're stuck with me. Awwwww...I'm touched! You didn't run screaming to another site, thankfull for the chance to escape this insanity. You're still here, which must mean that you'd rather be here than anywhere else! Hey, where are you going?! I thought you were gonna stay here and keep me company?! *drags reader back* See, I knew you'd stay! *gagged reader glares* What's that? I know this is the best site ever, thanks for the compliment! *reader starts inching towards freedom* I better go...I think that I may have a problem brewing. I'm back. And very concerned about this new, younger generation (all 10 year olds who were born in 1992) They are supposed to be the future. Instead they appear to be a nuclear armagedon in the form of a fifth grader. I chanced to have an interview with an informant from this evil generation (my little sister) who will be called Mrs. X for security reasons (no, she's not married, the "Mrs" makes it good as a disguise) I was quizing Mrs. X on Civil War History for an upcoming test in her classroom (whose location can not be devulged) Mrs. X seemed fluent in the subject. Using prior knowledge, I deduced that Mrs. X was full of crap. Out of sheer curiosity, I asked Mrs. X who participated in the Civil War. She immediatly replied "Clara Barton". I clarified, which countries fought in the Civil War. She answered: England, Russia, and (out of sheer desperation) Iraq. I believe that she was just listing countries she knows America has fought against. Now, correct me if I'm wrong...but Iraq? I don't know if Iraq even existed in the Civil War Era! Why on earth would we go have way across the world to fight them when we didn't even really need oil?!! Moving on, I finaly managed to coax my sister (I'm tired of writing Mrs. X) to tentativly guess that America fought in the Civil War. I mean, who'd a thought? America? Fighting in the American Civil War? In a moment of inspiration, I asked her who America fought. Her first guess was enslaved africans. Well, at least she knows that slaves were involved in the war. Before she could start listing all of America's enemies, I gave her a hint. I said "The Union fought..." With a crack, snaple and pop, some random synapses in her brain connected in the right order and she said "CONFEDERACY!!!" I was very proud of her, just as you would be proud of a two-year-old who has just announced: "I WENT POO-POO ON THE POTTY!!!!!" What I mean is, you wouldn't be very proud if the average person said that they just took a dookey on the toilet, and you wouldn't be very proud if they knew who fought against the Union in the Civil War. I confirmed that the Union was Northern and Free, and that the Confederacy was Southern and Slave. We resumed quizzing and she got every question on the worksheet correct. This is because she memorizes the questions. That way, she can pass the test without actually learning anything. You see, if you memorize stuff, you only have to remember that the answer to number 6 is Clara Barton for a week, rather than having to remember that Clara Barton started the Red Cross for the rest of you life. I sincerely appologize if anyone is offended by my view of memorization. I also would like such persons to immediatly leave my site. You don't belong here. You see...knowledge is good. If my sister...uh...Mrs. X were ever asked a question on the Civil War on a quiz show, she'd come up with nothing. With knowledge you can win money and the opportunity to look like a dork on national television. My sister is a big believer in the memorization system. I previous time when I was studying with her (American Revolution, this time) I was trying to help her remember the difference between the Patriots(Patriotic to America) and the Loyalists (Loyal to Britain) She didn't know what the word patriotic meant. I tried to explain. I asked her how you dress on the forth of july (she said nice) I asked what the colors red, white and blue were (pretty). I gave up in exasperation. More recently, I was trying to instill a sense of empathy and niceness in her. I asked her what the golden rule of christianity was. She didn't know. When I pressed her, she confessed she didn't know what chrisianity was. Completly defeated, I told her that it was the religion she practiced every Sunday when she went with her friends to church. This confirmed my suspicion that she only went so that she could have the use of the church's playground equipment. My family also strongly suspects that she stole $20 from the donation thingy. Anyway, that's my rant on the new generation that contains my little sister. When someone of her generation runs for president, I'm gonna do a complete background check. If they're anything like my sister, I'm movin' to Canada. Gotta go...the Russian-Brittish-Iraqi-enslaved-Africans are coming to defeat the Mexicans. I'm back! *there's that darn cricket again* And I have a genuine question to ask all of my loyal readers *cough-cough* Okay, here it is: Is it normal for a non-gender specific sibling to carry around various dead reptiles (snakes, turtles, lizards etc.) Furthormore, is it considered accepted behavior to talk to these dead reptiles, in a cooey, baby talky kind of voice? Finnaly, is it expected for said sibling's non-gender specific parent to encourage such behavior, citing "I was just like that as a child" as an excuse? It's an honest question as I fear that my non-gender specific sibling is weird. Who am I kidding? My entire family is weird. It's just a matter of degree. Hey, by the way. I'm sorry that my last few entries have been only about my various family antics. Although I can't see why you care, because there is a large probability that you do not exist, because I don't think anyone is reading this anymore. How discouraging. People need to make the time to waste time. It's a time honored tradition. Who'd thought that I could use time that many times in only a few sentences? It's been pretty quiet here lately, which is why I haven't added anything to this text in awhile. I know, you were just crushed that nothing new was happening. It's a sad, cold, cruel world out there and you had nothing to relieve the monotony of it. *sniffle* I feel so sorry for you! Next thing you know, you're internet connection will die. Well, too bad! Do you know I never even had a computer untill just a few months ago (that's why I'm obsessivly writing here) So I won't pity you if you're computer dies for unexpected reasons. Time for another quote from the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK!!! Code: 843 of the Flaming Chicken Handbook states that in no way is the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who?) responsible for any faulty wiring or lack thereof in your computer. The Patron Saint of Paper Clips in no way wishes harm on your computer. Any derogatory statement is simply an opinion of an individual, not of the flaming order of the flaming chickens. Said order will in no way be held responsible for any damages, injuries, loss of life, limb, head, or organs. Okay, quote is done. Maybe I should put quotation marks around them...nah, too much work. But I probably will eventually get around to having a seperate page just for the FLAMING CHICKEN HANDBOOK. That way all the members (what members) can print out a copy of it for themselves (if they didn't get that copy in the mail) I guess I'm done for the day...I know. You want me to stay. It's okay. Because eventually, I'll be back! Seeya! I'm back. And once again suprised. When I was at a TAB poetry thingy (TAB is good TAB is great We love TAB) I met some new people. One of these people (who shall remain nameless untill such time that I have explicit permission to use her name) turned out to be almost as weird as me. As in...she read the ENTIRE Longest Text Ever. The whole thing. So far two whole people (to my knowledge) have read the entire thing, and a few people have skimmed it. That means I really can justify claiming to have two and a half readers! I'm so happy! That means my pointless obsession has actually entertained someone besides me! Perhaps, one day, far in the future, this will actually be a world record and random people will acutally voluntarily read this text every day. Or maybe not. The point is that it is nice to have readers. Or maybe it's not...I mean...won't the quality *snicker* of my work deteriorate if I am no longer writing for the target audience of me? If that happens, then no one will read this. And then I'll be writing for me again. And then the quality will rise. And then people will start reading. And then the quality will go down and the vicious spiral of good and bad will continue untill I either give up this text, or go crazy...er. In any case...I should probably find a topic. Yeah...a topic would be good. Or...I could just continue to write about finding a topic. Ooooo! I know a topic! Ice cream trucks! This has been bothering me for a while. You see...when it's hot, you want something cold to eat. Conviently, ice cream trucks come around during the hottest part of the year (it must be a conspiracy). As you may or may not know, small children swarm the ice cream trucks. The vendors even play whimsical music which I strongly suspect contains subliminal messages to make you hungry for ice cream. The vendors get oodles of cash, and the kids get ice cream. Now, in today's society of buying groceries on-line and getting them delivered, why hasn't any other food industry marketed this ingenius idea to bring the product to the consumer. I can just see Hot Dog, and Pizza trucks roaming the neighbor hoods, selling treats to hungry children...and adults. Of course, said adults would have to peel their butt-cheeks off the couch...but they'd have to do that for the delivary man anyway. The food trucks could even play music that made you hungry for their food. Then the problem with obesity in America would be blamed on evil food truck drivers as opposed to the harmless, benificient television and computer. We could all breath a sigh of relief as parents kept their children inside, away from the evil truck drivers and near the T.V. Gone would be the days when parents told children to play outside, it's a nice day. Parents would buy their children computers, video games and other television neccesities. This, of course would expand the market for such products. This would lead to a better, more stable economy. Food industires would be buying cars, gas and music. Parents would increase the purchase of entertainment items. In return companies would make a profit, pay their workers better. The workers would then be able to afford more entertainment items and the upward spiral would continue, as opposed to the evil downward spiral of my writing. In conclusion, Ladies and Gentlemen...if you implement my idea, there will be peace and prosperity for all. As long as you don't mind a few more couch potatoes. Gotta go...I think I hear a catchy jingle. I'm back...it's been awhile since I've written here. A lot has happened. Like my EVIL school computer deleting my updates page. But it's all good. Especially since I just saw The Matrix: Reloaded. The following text may spoil the movie for you, so WARNING: do no read this unless you have already seen the movie. Okay. What I liked best was the philosophy on choices. (the mindless fight scenes were really cool, too). It's like this. In the beginning of the movie, Neo is having dreams about Trinity's death. Later, The Oracle tells him that he has already decided her fate. Towards the end of the movie, Neo chooses to tell Trinity to stay out of the Matrix, since he saw her die in it. She agrees, but only after seeing how important it is to him. After a horrific chain of events (is it coincidence, or fate) the people who will deactivate the secondary power source of the building Neo is infiltrating, die. So...the plan is going to fail. Unless someone does something, Neo, Morpheus and many others will die. Trinity, who is of course outside of the Matrix, knows this and chooses to enter the Matrix to save the day. The events of Neo's dream unfold. So...when the oracle said that the choice had already been made, she was completely correct. The moment Neo woke from dreams of Trinity's death, he made a choice. He would do everything in his power to keep his dream from becoming reality. So he kept her out of the Matrix, and she saw the problem, and entered the Matrix to fix it. If she had been in the Matrix, she would have likely been with Morpheus, never would have known about the plan's failure, would therefore not have been in the situation that resulted in her death. And the plan would have failed and Neo might have died, along with a large portion of the city (the building was set to blow if there was any intruders) So...Neo's choice to attempt to save Trinity triggered the sequence of events that led to her death. As Neo realizes all of this, through a nearly omniscient Architect of the Matrix, he makes another choice. This choice is simply an extension of his original choice: he will save Trinity at all costs. Neo is told that he has two choices. He can save mankind, and doom Trinity. Or he can try to save Trinity and doom mankind. No guarantee that he'll succeed in saving Trinity. He goes for Trinity, makes it just in time to catch her body, and starts her heart back up. In return for not taking the easy route, he gains a power in the more or less real world. He can deactivate the machines, (squidies) but at great personal cost. The movie ends with him in a coma. Now, you must realize that I have described only one aspect of this movie of all movies. There are not enough words in the English language to describe the sheer coolness of the fight choreography, special effects and the plot. I highly recommend you see the movie yourself. I'm sorry that today's rant isn't random, insane or completely chaotic, but I must right my experience with The Matrix before I forget. I am so buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I love it! You have to admit its sheer coolness. I mean, come on! It's the sequel to the movie that revolutionized the standard by which we judge special effects. I better stop typing before I have a heart attack...just remember...The Matrix has you...I'm back. And throughly pissed off at my school system in general. You see...they feel that the only way to reward academic achievement...yada-yada-yada...is to force the smart kids to be ushers for Senior Honor Nite, and Graduation. Where is the logic in this? I for one, didn't know about such dire consequences for not deliberatly failing classes. It was bad enough that I was forced to "volunteer" my precious time (i could have worked on this site)...no...I was forced to wear formal attire. My school system is stuck in the past...and formal attire means...a dress...a white dress...(for those you who never bothered to find out...I am indeed female). So...for the first time in about 5 years...I wore a dress...and something that was complelty white. What cruel fate is this? To compound the EVIL situation...I was forced to wear feminine shoes. In other words...they hurt. And they pushed my toes together. Since I have a rather weird phobia of touching my own skin...this made my evening my own personall torture session. I think that such gender-specific torture should be deemed inhumane and abolished from our great society...of flaming chickens. Henceforth...Code: 666 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that under no circumstance will the Patron Saint of Paper Clips (guess who) be forced to wear anything other than a t-shirt and preferably black jeans. Should you violate this right, you will become destroyed or possibly dizzy. I'm leaving now...I have some destruction to do. i'm back. from graduation. we had to get there one hour and fifteen minutes early because there was traffic. After standing around a lot...the ceremony started. Lots of people spoke. by the time I had to do my part (tell people where to stand before getting their diploma) it was dark. there were bugs. they liked landing on me. then...i got to go stand while people said a lot of stuff. i couldn't hear it because someone had put the speakers facing the audience. we clapped. the whole time, even during the name-calling, seniors were playing with silly string and beachballs. afterwards...they turned off the lights. there were lots of fireworks. i wandered around for 20 minutes looking for a cell phone. i called home, and waited another hour for my ride...traffic to the school was one way. i felt sorry for my dad. i am tired...but cannot go to sleep. i'll copy and paste this to my site. maybe the longest text ever. you will all suffer as i have suffered when and if you graduate. i cannot feel my feet. i hate dress shoes. I'm back. Today, I'm here to salute the Pointless Signs Of America! The PSOA have been whole-heartedly working for you, and what have you done for them? NOTHING! These so-called "pointless" signs are doing just what they were meant to do: entertain you! You cannot judge them simply because they have no apparant function. They expand your mind, making you think about all the things they could do. They could do anything they wanted to, if they just put their minds to it. If you judged everything by what it doesn't acomplish, then the entire world is populated by pointless beings. Noone can do everything, so how can you expect a SIGN, with the I.Q. of toilet paper, to do everything. You people sicken me. You expect far to much of the inanimate world. The inanimate world, on the otherhand, expects nothing of you. Which is exactly what it gets. If you expect nothing, and get nothing, you feel nothing. If you expect nothing and get something, you're happy. But, if you expect something and get something you feel nothing. And if you expect something and get nothing, you feel cheated. If you're following along, and not completly confused, you'll realize that it is better to be a pessimist than an optomist. Yep that's right. This entry went from saluting the PSOA to making a statement about my ideals. This has been a weird day. You can thank my associate "Meg" she came up with the PSOA acronym. Everyone, clap for "Meg".I gotta go...seeya later! I'm finnaly back! Today, I took a long look at this site, which is the acomplishment of almost a year of work. And I asked myself "How could I have better spent my time?" And so, in the interest of wasting even more time, I made a list. Here we go! Number One: I could have cured cancer. Not that I know anything about medicine...or cancer for that matter. But I'm sure that if I just would have put my mind to it, I could have done it. Number Two: I could helped the earth to find eternal and lasting peace. Which would be boring. So I at least have an excuse for not doing that. Number Three: I could have studied and stuff. Uh...don't think so...Number Four: I could have learned to drive. This would have resulted in the deaths of numerous pedistrians...and I would still probably be wondering around in search of a McDonalds. Number Five: I could have read more books, played more video games and watched more mindless television. Gee...I wish I'd thought of that sooner. Number Six: I could have implemented one of several plans for world domination. Or, as an alternative, I could have ruined several plans for world domination that other people made. Number Seven: I could drive people crazy. Wait...aren't I already doing that? Scratch number seven. And on to: Number Eight: I could have...uhhhh...ummmmm...actually thought up these things before hand. Number Nine: Now it's just getting redundant, isn't it? Number Ten: This is the list that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. One person, started typing it not knowing what it was, and they'll continue typing it forever just because this is the list that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, some person started typing it not...etc, etc. Okay...I admit it. I have officialy run out of ways I could have better spent my time. I don't think there actually are any. Except for maybe five and six. Now, those have possibilities. However, I am currently content to just sit here and type. For the benefit of you, the reader...who may or may not exist. Either way, I'm continuing to sort of entertain myself. I feel like I should be outraged about some topic or another. I just can't work up the energy to be outraged. Perhaps a nice, soothing mistrust. Yeah. I can work with mistrust. I definitly mistrust lots of stuff. Like organ grinders, and the evil conspiracies. Did you know, that Kodak was part of the conspiracy to assasinate John F. Kennedy. Now, some of you are probably thinking "Gee, Really?", or "Wow, I never knew that!" while others are thinking "Who's John F. Kennedy?" or possibly "Who or What is Kodak". I fervently hope that you're not thinking the last two...especially about Kodak. Kodak, as you may know, is a film developing company. And John F. Kennedy (JFK) was an alien bent on global domination. Or possibly a really good president who wanted to fly to the moon. Either way, he got assasinated. And ever loony in America decided that it was a conspiracy. Some even go so far as to claim that Kodak "changed" the pictures of the assasination to make an assasination in the bushes become a tree's shadow. I didn't know that they had such good technology back then. I have to wonder...why would Kodak do such a thing. Perhaps Kodak is actually a front organization for a shadowy governmental system that controls the entire world and didn't want mankind to obtain the freedom of the stars and so tried to sabotauge the space program even though it didn't work as well as they planned. Or perhaps not. Either way, Kodak is undeniably evil. How can any company that takes so many "wholesome" pictures not be? You can just bet that they look at every one that get's turned in to them, judging blackmail value, and whether or not you could get arrested. It's just sickening, you can't even take a simple photo nowadays. Unless you have a digital camera, which are a symbol of freedom from the old ways and willing enslavement to the new ways. We can only hope that the digital camera manufacturers are kinder masters than the evil Kodak Lords. I better go...I think Kodak is tracing my site....I'm back now! And, once again, I have proof that someone actually took the time (two hours) to read this entire Longest Text Ever! It's amazing, it's incredible, it's unbelievable. But true. Even more incredible, this time it's someone I don't even know! Wooooooo! I feel inspired and happy and other really good emotions and stuff. And so, I'll take a trip down memory lane, to the dark depths of the past, to when I decided to make this page. It was inspired, in part, by my sheer and utter boredom. In school, back before I even owned a computer, I'd type random words for long periods of time, 'cause I had nothing better to do. Once I got this computer, I decided to do something similar on my beloved site. But, it ended up making more sense than I anticipated (scary thought, huh). Oh, well...I tired of nostalgia. Back to the present. Right now, I'm just typing so that no one can say that I've been slacking off. I don't think I have any conspiracy theories...except pop-ups/pop-unders. Have you ever had the evil pop-up that says that if you click here, it'll get rid off all the annoying pop-ups? Isn't that sort of ironic? Could the pop-up blocker people have chosen a better means to advertise their product? It's like grand-theft auto 3's talk show, you know, the one where there are Citizens Raging Against Phones? Or CRAP, for short. And the lady representing them, calls the radio station...on a phone. It's stupid and ironic and just shouldn't exist in a better world. Pop-Up ad's help you get rid of pop-up ads? Insane, chaotic...hmmmmm...I wonder who thought of it? Was it on purpose, or was it just some mistake? It is now my civic duty to discover this ancient mystery, and reveal it to the uncaring world. Or maybe I'll go make a frozen pizza. Yeah. That sounds good, too. Since I'm not particualarly inspired at the moment, I should leave and let you gather what is left of your sanity. I just can't seem to stop, though. Okay...I can do it. I'm leaving. I'm back...and it's several hours later. I've decided to imortalize the stupidity of my dog, Moose. She is a heavy-set Yorkshire Terrior (12 lbs.) In otherwords, she's a small yappy dog who is big for her breed. Today, I met her arch-enemy. An enemy so terrifying that Moose cannot stop shaking. An enemy so hideous that Moose must destroy it at all costs. An enemy so dangerous that Moose fears it above all others. Now you may be wondering what horrible beast is Moose's arch-enemy. And you probably suspect that it is something pathetic. You would be correct in your suspiciousness...for Mooses arch-enemy is...*dramatic drumroll*...a small, white, feather. Now, Moose has seen many feathers, birds even. But none have struck terror in her little moose heart like this particular feather. So...naturally I put her arch-enemy in my pocket and brought it home with me. This action has made her very suspicious of where my loyalties lie. She tracks the feather smell all over the house, and goes crazy whenever I take it out of my pocket. She even got her sister and mother in the spirt of things. Now her sister sounds an alarm whenever she sees the evil feather. Now, you may be wondering what is so terrifying about a small, white, feather. So am I. It doesn't smell funny, (I asked my brother, since I don't have a sense of smell), it seems perfectly ordinary. So, I've decided that Moose works for some secret government organization, and that the feather is the key to the destruction of the world, and I am just blithely letting it enter our home, so that it may furthur its evil plans to destroy the universe. That is the only possible explanation as to why it upsets her so much. Or...maybe it's the feather off of the cartoon owl from the tootsie-roll pop comercials (one...two...three..*crunch*). Whatever the case, I decided that the whole world, (or three of four random people) deserve to know that if the world and or universe are destroyed, it's the evil, little, white, feather's fault. Now I'd better go and torture my Moose with it...:) I am officially back. And you, the potentially non-existant reader gets a once in a lifetime chance to hear me rant and rave about my Horrible, Horrible Family Vacation. I know. You feel very, very honored. It's like this. My mother is a control freak, and she decided on the spur of the moment that we were going north to visit relatives. Later that day, she decided we were NOT going north, we were going south to a beach resort. Still later that day, she got offended at some trivial thing and decided that we weren't going anywhere at all. The very next day, she decided that we were going north, after all. So, we packed everthing up. Before we knew it, we were on the road. The first part of the trip was fairly easy. As in, I was half-asleep, hoping that we'd arrive while I slept. Then, in an inspired move, my brother talked my mother into letting him sit up front. That meant that my mother would be in the back, with me and my younger, eviler sister. Immediatly, my mother started complaining. It was uncomfortable in the back, it was too hot, it was too cold. Then, she accidently woke our three yappy dogs up, and they relized that they were in a car. That meant only one corse of action for them. They started shaking and barked their little heads off. This annoyed my mother further, untill she asked, no, demanded that my father turn the car around so that we could go home. Unfortuantly, we had already driven 337 miles toward our destination. After much argument, my father was going to turn around, untill he realized that my mother was going to drop the dogs and me off, and then turn around and continue north. This seemed slightly unpracticle, so we ended up not taking that 337 mile detour. We eventually reached our destination after 16 hours of virtually non-stop driving. We got there, we ate. We slept. My mother visited relatives. And so the week went by. I got to go to a huge library, and see Terminator 3 at the local theater. That was the high point of the entire trip. The last day, we were deciding where to eat. My mom said that she didn't care. So my dad picked a steak place. My mother tried to order a mushroom-swiss burger...only to discover that the place had no swiss-cheese. So she decided on a salad, only to discover that they didn't have her favorite salad dressing. After much deliberation, she decided that she wouldn't eat. After complaining how hungry she was, and about the poor quality of the resteraunt, she walked out of the resteraunt, instructing the rest of us to "enjoy our meals". And I wonder where my little sister gets her annoyingness. Not that my mother is annoying...just set in her ways. The whole meal thing was about the only interesting thing to happen during the week. On the way home, we had gotten approximatly 4 hours into the trip when my mother predicatably decided that we had to go back and eat at the 50th aniversary of her favorite ice cream place. Needless to say, we ignored her. Oh, and when my sister had to go to the bathroom very badly during a traffic jam, my mother had the good taste to making hissing/water noises to make my sister's problem worse. She claimed that my little sister always did it to her, and she was getting pay-back. Between her bickering with my sister, and obsessivly playing neopets games, I don't know what to do with her. Anyway...that was my family vacation rant. It sucked. No suprise. At least it's over. Sorry if I complained a lot. If you don't like it, start your own longest text ever. Anyway, I promise to go back to my usual routine the next time I rant here. I thought of a topic on the way home, but forgot it. Seeya. I'm back! I know, I took you completly by suprise. You thought you'd gotten rid of me. *cheesy super-hero voice* Well, fear not, random citizen, for I, PSOPC am here! *normal voice* Today I have a very important to discuss with you in this: PERFECTLY NORMAL PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCMENT. Yes, that's right. It's time to warn you, the viewer...er...reader...about the evils of various stuff. Today's lesson is: subliminal messages. That's right, folks, mass hypnosis via commercials. Now, I'm sure you've at least heard of subliminal messages, right? No? Well...prepare to be enlightened. Subliminal messages are an advertising technique that puts hidden pictures and words into a main image. You don't see them, but your subconsious (dreaming) mind does. Your subconsious mind acts on whatever it is told. What does this mean to you? It means that WAL-MART TV IS EVIL! EVIIIIIIIIIIIIL!!!!!! Why else would they invest all that money to show commercials in their own store? Because they put subliminal messages in them, of course! Subliminal messanging also explains the successes of certain fast-food resteraunts, and brand name items. BEWARE YOUR TOASTER OVEN! Okay. That had nothing to do whatsoever with subliminal messages...it's just cool to say. Anyway, only watch wal-mart if you WANT to be subliminaly entertained into purchasing a new set of TUPERWARE, even though your old set is PERFECTLY fine. This has been a public service announcment. Pretty cool, huh? Uh...you don't have to take the subliminal stuff seriously. It's true, and all, but I have no proof about wal-mart, or certain fast food resteraunts. It makes sense, though. Wal-mart TV is evil. You cannot deny it. Seeya...hmmm..I wonder if there's subliminal stuff in my computer...I'm back. And I feel that it's time for a FAKE commercial break, for the highly informed, obviously brain-dead consumer. ''And now, a word from our non-existant sponsor. Ketchup: The only food that you'll want to eat after traveling to the 5th Dimension. It's been practically proven that Ketchup transforms into a highly intoxicating (non-addictive) delicious substance upon returning from the 5th Dimension. Stock up now with our Valu-Pak to recieve 3-metric tons of Ketchup, all for the low, low price of your brain, since you're obviously not using it anyway. Then, just wait for technology to "catch-up" (get it, catch-up, Ketchup?)so you can travel to the 5th Dimension like our scientists almost did. (Next Commercial) Get ready fo: Faux's new "reality" TV show, "How Low Can We Go?" It's about six contestants who compete to create the worst, least likely "reality" TV show. The winner not only gets the million-dollar prize, they get the chance to produce the show they created. Remember: if the show sucks, it's their fault, not ours!(Next exciting commercial!)And for all the idiots out there: Try new and improved Dum-B-Gon! Dum-B-Gon stimulates brain activity, making you up to 10 times smarter! Not only that, Dum-B-Gon: stimulates weight loss, cures "any" illness, does simple houshold chores, never leaves the toilet seat up and is the perfect gentle companion for your kids. How can you pass up this revolutionary new product? It's yours for only 3 bi-monthly payments of $3.95 ($3,95,000 on days ending in "y")Don't forget, Dum-B-Gon is practically guaranteed!* (*Not a guarantee) (Next commercial)Have you ever wondered why food sometimes goes bad in your fridge, even if you've only had it a few years? It's because of the "evil little faeries with sharp little teeth." These "faeries" sprinkle your food with highly toxic "age dust" and ruin a perfectly good four-year-old meatloaf. How do you stop them? With our patented "spray". Our "spray" kills over 99.9% of "faeries" (which are much to small to see) Our "spray" also kills most disease causing agents, like rats, or pigeons. WARNING: Leave food sit in an open, well-venilated spot for a week before eating.'' And now, back to our featured presentation. Wasn't that semi-entertaining? I bet you wanna go eat some Ketchup covered Dum-B Gon right now, while watching "reality" TV. Just make sure you "spray" your food first. Pathetic, wasn't it? Oh, well. I was bored, and a dilligent reader suggested I make fake commercials, so...therer they are. Happy? Good. I'm leavin', for now. I'm back. And I'm willing to enlighten you, the potentially you-know-what reader. Today, I was checking out some weird news. At one point, I read an article that stated that it had been proven, conclusivly, that Kansas was flatter than the standard pancake. The researches even used highly advanced technololgy to map the surface of a pancake and compare it to documented geology of Kansas. Some people disagree, the director of the Kansas Geological Survey said "I think this is part of a vast breakfast food conspiracy to denigrate Kansas. It's a cheap shot." So...doesn't that make you want to take Kansas' side (I sincerly appologize if you are from Kansas). It just seems extremly weird (and worthy of mentioning) that this semi-important guy from Kansas believes in a "vast breakfast food conspiracy". Makes you think that the long held belief that Kodak conspired with the JFK assasin(s) is normal. Another article claims that an anitseptic turned a polar bear purple, drawing large crowds of people. I sure hope other zoos won't copy them. Before you know it, we'll have orange alligators, pink tigers and blue lions. School children won't be able to correctly identify the color of a zebra. Random people will think they've gone crazy, after a seemingly innocent visit to the zoo. It's wrong, I tell you. A complete and total degregation of our societies values. What values, you say? The basic moral belief that Polar bears should be WHITE. Unless we spray-painted the snow purple, too. Then it would be okay. As long as the bear blends in, you know? Speaking of animals, there's a cat in California who is a kleptomaniac (likes to steal stuff). He sneaks into neighboring homes, and takes clothing, wrapped christmas presents, and anything he can find. He then leaves them under his owners car. Okay, better leave. I'm back. And I don't really have a topic today. I'm just bored. Sometimes I just do this, you know? Start typing without any idea about what it is I intend to say. Maybe I subconsiously DO know what I'm doing here, but refuse to admit it to myself. Or maybe I am monumentally bored and don't have anything else to do at the moment. Either way, I'm here. You must be pretty bored, too. Otherwise, why on earth (beta, krpto, zkdjf, Planet X, whatever) would you be here? It would make no sense. If you have something better to do, why wouldn't you be doing it right now? I would be. But, maybe that's just the difference between you and me. Yeah. That must be it. Unless you're bored. Then I completly understand. I need to find a topic. Here, topic, topic, topic! Come on, I won't hurt you, I promise! *hides large ax behind back* Come here, topic! Why are you afraid of little ol' me? *sigh* There are no topics anywhere near me. Kinda like me and "Meg"webcomic we are trying to do. It's called Hit-Or-Miss, any topics, plot, etc. are completly accidental and are not the fault/responsibility of the creators. That was sort of a topic, even though it was sort of random. Which is what I do best. Okay, I'm done with that litte commercial. What now...hmmmmm...should I share with you more of my paranoid/delusional conspiracy theories? Or have I been doing that too much lately? Oooooo! I know, I'll start of list of why it's fun/good to be insane/weird! #1You can say or do anything and normal people will agree with you in the hopes that you'll be satisfied, shut up, and go away. Far away. I will show you an example with this completly true stuff that I experienced several years ago. ''ME: My vicious, psychotic, flesh-eating bunny-rabbit wants to rule the world. RANDOM PERSON: Uh-huh, that's nice. ME: Yeah, but I told her that she'd be a terible ruler. I mean, she traded Asia for a carrot! And she doesn't even LIKE carrots! RANDOM PERSON: You don't say? ME: Yep. She also is the goddess of red jello. RANDOM PERSON: *head explouding from sheer insanity*'' As you can see, I was a very weird child (this happened in elementary school...uh...except for that head-explouding part). Okay...on to: #2 You can get out of practically anything by saying: ''a)It's against my religion b)I'm allergic to that. c)I have an extremly irrational fear of that. d)I already did that in a past life and it sucked. e)My psychotic bunny predicted I'd die doing it.'' Unfortunalty, several of those reasons LEGITAMITLY apply to a certain activity I do every Tuesday, which WILL NOT BE NAMED HERE LEST I GIVE IT POWER OVER ME! I'm allergic to parts of it, have irrational fears about others and I'm pretty sure it's against my Jenny religion...along with eating mashed potatoes, or potatoes of any kind. I'll add that to the FLAMING CHICKENS HANDBOOK. Thou shalt not eat spuds. Hmmmm...time for #3You can obsessive over ANYTHING, and people will think nothing of it. I, personally, am obsessed with, kitties, bunnies, bats, this website, drawing, making intriate little patterns with strings, doing mildly repetitive activities, being weird, apparantly making lists and cheese...and chickens...and flame. Fire is good. Fire is free. Fire is my friend...until it burns me. Then it must die...painfully. And on to:#4You make your friends look normal in comparison. And #5: You can give each of your pets several weird names such as: Ringling-Raison-Bailey-Suzana-Midnight-Schultz, Squirell, Moose, Moose-Moose, Moosey-Moose, Linzey-Moose, Muffin, Squirell-Muffin, Yabby-Doodle, Abby Normal, Wiggle-Baby, Wiggle-Muffin, Witle-Baby, Cheese-Monkey, Muffin-With-Squirell-Juice, Squirell-With-Muffin Juice, Moosey-Juice, Squirell-Monkey, etc. Now, wasn't that a fun list!? Doesn't that just make you proud to be weird? I should make bumber stickers saying that. Proud to be weird. It'd be cool. Anyway, gotta go! *yawn* I'm back. Last night I was super-charged with lots of sugar and not a lot of sleep. I ended up writing things during the time of night when EVERYTHING is hilarious, including the word sheep. To compound things, I wasn't alone, and things just escalated. The following is everything I wrote during that sugar-coated time period. Some are answers to e-mails, the rest are just stuff I wrote. Definitly. THen we go to library. Guess what? Me and Josh ate lots and lots of sugar, and it's late at nite and everything is funny but we can't laugh 'cause everybody is sleepin' so it's even funnier but ever since we drank the water we sobered up even though we weren't drunk but we ate sugar...lots and lots of sugar. MOstly donut cake. Okay. JOsh says it was only one piece of cake. WE got it at Wal-mart. Or his mom did. OR something. Goodbye...oh, and the fresh chicken wings might be to blame. they were special wings. I hope I remember doing this. I think it's pretty funny. > You have blue hari..*gigles* I like hair. Josh says I probably won't remember writing any of this, but I can't sleep. THe cake was good. aSk anybody. Big Brother may be listening right now so I beter go. They're listening for a secrret...no it's cause of a secret. But the secret doesn't exist so they are stupid. *g8ggles* bye. Yes. Megan has hair. I've seen it. *giggling* It's very, very late at nite. ONly not really. i like sugar. NO, wait. It's early. WE have been having very profound thoughts lately. We think. THey might havve been important, but we keep forgetting them. We're not sure. Josh wants his thought back. *sniffle* i do, too. It's not fair. I think mine involved a jaunty song to sing. But I couldn't have sung it 'cause it would have woken everyone up and they would have called me inconsiderate. I have to get up really early to leave for home. I should be asleep. *gigles* It milght have been a sugar rush 'cause now we're having a sugar crash. OR, maybe it's the writing. Okay, maybe it was the ranch dressing instead of the special, fresh buffalo wings. But they really were'nt buffoal wings 'cause buffalo's don't have wings...cause they come off when they are babies, JOsh says so and he must be right causse he's been having Profound Thoughts even though he cannot remember them. But, the wings were'nt really special. I don't think. Maybe we're just really, really tired and had sugar. I don't want to play the stupid animal war card game 'cause the stupdi bear gets eaten by an eaagle.. ...goodbye ssslllee0yyyyslllllllleeeeeeeepppppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyy iiiiiiiiissssssssssssss gggggggggoooooooooooooddddddddddddd............. As you can see, I was in a very interesting state of mind. I hadn't had a genuine sugar rush since I was 11. It was fairly fun. Although I acted like an idiot. Oh, well. I have more stuff to write, but I gotta go right now. Stay tuned to hear my thoughts on tanning, and an evil card game, and who knows what else...Okay I'm back. Here's what I wrote this weekend: Woooooo! 5000 hits! Aren't I special? *sigh* I can't think of anything to write. But I must. I must defeat the sister site of the Longest Text Ever! I mean, I've been doing this much, much longer than the other person. Hmmmmm...monkey. Why do weird people (myself included) obsess about monkeys? And, are monkeys spelled monkies? It just looks weird. Like a division of mounties made entirely out of monks. I bet it's spelled monkeys. It looks right. Maybe I should use spell-check. But...that'd be a lot of work, unlike ranting, raving and rambling. Hey, it's the 3 r's! No longer does school teach use reading, riting and 'rithmitic, it now teaches us ranting, raving and rambling! (and redundancy!) After all, isn't that basicly what the best teachers do? It sets a perfect example for you young, impressionable minds. Those are the best kind. *yet another highly dramatic, time-consuming sigh* I need a topic. A good one. Not one of those bargain ones anyone can find at your local topic discount outlet store. I'll rant and rave and ramble about the EVILS of sunlight. Most people actually like to spend long periods of time exposing their vulnerable skin to the harmful rays of the sun. These people have obviously suffered major brain damage from their prolonged exposure to the sun. The actually think that their skin's efforts to protect them are ATTRACTIVE. It'd be like someone thinking that scabs are atractive, 'case they protect you from disease. Then everyone would cut and scrape themselves to be covered in scabs. That's exactly what tanning is like. Purposly damaging the skin so you can look "attractive". Now, a long time ago, people were sort of smarter. They avoided the sun at all costs. They associated tans with hard, manuel labor. Then, some fasion bimbo went on a fasionable safarii to get some fasionable furs, or whatever. When she came back, 'lo and behold, she had a tan. This resourceful young vanguard of fasion decided to cover her extreme embarassment by acting like she meant to horribly damage herself. And because she was the head fasion bimbo, everyone agreed that the look was definitly "in". So, everyone went to the beach and got tans. Girls began wearing skimpier, and skimpier bathing suits. Men, of course, had no complaints. (Though whether it was the tan or the skimpy suits, no one will ever know.) As you read this Historicly Accurate Anecdote, you must realize the parallel between it and the fable The Emperoro's New Clothes. Someone did something incredbly stupid, but because they were powerful, everone acted like it was a stroke of genius. And the preceding generations became brain-washed (possibly through subliminal messages in sun-tan lotion commercials) to believe tans were expected. Those few who actually could think and avoided the sun were considered to be outcasts. I don't mean to insult you if you DO have a tan. I am simply explaining why I, personally, refuse to swim, go to the beach, sunbathe, leave the house, etc. Alrighty then. I'm gonna quit for now. I'm back. I'm so very, very tired. School has been on for four days now. I have three very hard academic classes. They give lots and lots of homework. Two and a half hours of homework (total) to be precise. I get home from work at 5:30p.m. and eat dinner. Then I do my homework. I get done at 9:15. Then I wait for my mom and dad to stop playing Collapse II so that I can get on. I usually have less than 30 minutes. It sucks. I can't really work on this site even though I now have a more in depth understanding of variables. I learned this from my calculator. I made a virtual pet for it. It was fun. I'm tired. Did I mention that, yet. My calculator is nifty. Sometimes, it is lazy. It tells me stuff like: "Warning: More Solutions May Exist" and "Questionable Accuracy". So...it doesn't bother to find all solutions, and it may be wrong. Geee....that is comforting. I love my calculator, though. It does all my Math for me. I hate Math. Math is so picky. In English, and stuff, if you miss one little detail, at most you lose partial credit, but you usually get it all right. In Math, one teeny, tiny little mistake will make you get the entire thing wrong. I tend to make those tiny mistakes, and get bad grades, even if I understand the concepts. I hate Math. I'm tired. Are you tired. I sure am. Guess what I wanna do. How did you ever guess? That's right, I wanna sleep. Why can't I? Hmmmm...good question. I think I'm so tired I can't sleep. Plus...I gots oblimagations...obligaton....obligations to this site. yeah. thats it...i so tired...bye-bye. I'm back. And more than slightly embarassed. Today my frazzled-brain produced something that is decidedly Jenny (that's my more or less "real" name). I was contemplating how my heavy load of books made me like a bulldozer and than I was about to suggest to my friend, "Meg" that we invent one. Then I realized that the buldozer already HAD been invented. That's how I knew it's name, picture and what it did. That is just...pathetic. School is taking its toll. *sigh* *sniffle* *snort* *insert word that is a sound that begins with an "s" here* I don't have much time, so, I must be brief. I'm not sure how I CAN be brief since I have absolutly nothing to say. The best way to be brief is to quit now. Right now. Which is what I'm about to do. Any miniute now. I promise. Okay. Bye! *sigh* My dogs are just weird. You remember my Moose's arch-enemy, don't you? You know, the small, white feather. Well, my squirell now has an arch-enemy. At least her's makes sense...sort of. Her enemy is a fake Yorkshire Terrior (same species as her) made entirely out of goat hair. She HATES and FEARS it. She'll shake and run from it, then suddenly dive and bite it's head. She goes crazy if someone holds it, 'cause it's getting attention and not her. I'm fairly certain she knows it's not alive, though. Maybe she just doesn't like goat-smell. In any case, she is clearly insane. Just like everyone else in my family. In other news, I participated in the Second Battle of the Asparagus Wars and chronicled them here. I'll add a link to the main page when I get around to it. It gave me new insight into how weird I am. I fought with vegitables, covered myself in bubble wrap, groveled before the Great Banana and dodge skittles and flying doughnuts and rubber chikens. The entire message board was like one big insane asylum. Needless to say, I felt right at home. Well, seeya *waves brightly* I got to go to my Grendel (really cool book) project for school. I's making fake soundtracks like the teacher told me! BYE!!! Okay...I'm back. Today's rant is a panic rant. There are not going to be conspiracies...or humor of any kind. I think. *let the panic begin!* IT'S NOT FAIR! Why do I have to work year round? I only signed up for a semester. I was looking forward to having A elective, while everyone else was enjoying three or four...or even more. Oooo..I'm a poet, and don't I know it? In any case...it's awful. It's bad enough to go to school, leave school, go to work, leave work, do homework and then wait for my dad to get off of the computer so that I can do stuff. I want SOME free time. That's all. Is that too much to ask? I spend from 8-5 doing what everyone else wants. When is it MYturn? Next semester will be almost exactly like this one. Even though my schedule is technically supposed to be completly differnt. You see, my school has "block" scheduling. That means I take four classes this semester and four different classes next year. But one of my classes is work, and two others are horrible year-round classes. So next semester I'll still have work, AP Lit, and AP Physics. It's not FAIR. Physics is so FREAKIN' hard! I don't understand it. I have no problem with Lit. Okay. Work. I love my work, I love the kids I work with. But I HATE spending three hours of every day in a "class" when everyone else's class is only an hour and a half. I don't care if I have to ride the bus home if I stop work. I don't care if I'd get home only an hour or so before I normaly do. I want an elective. Maybe. I think. All I know is that I've been assuming one thing while the person in charge has been assuming a completly different thing. Neither of us thought to question the other. And so I'm in deep doo-doo. *sniffle* I just want to have some FREAKIN' variety in my daily grind, you know? I don't WANT to do the same thing for an entire year. Yeah, I know, regular schedule schools do that. I pity them, I really do. I've spent the past three years of my life EXPECTING each semester to be like a mini-year. I DO NOT LIKE CHANGE! This is just way too much of a change at once. I don't want year-round classes. I don't want a full year of work. I don't want to be in this mess...I'm going to bed. I'm back. I don't have much of a choice about the whole work thing. Plus, the kids at the daycare (where I work, obviously) say that I'm "cool to talk to". That makes me feel alll warm and fuzzy inside. Like a muffin. They just like how I know lots of pointless laws and random facts. Okay. ON TO THE CONPIRACY OF THE DAY!: I've had this nagging fear that I am part of some random but vast conspiracy (about what I'm not sure but it must be vast). Meanwhile there is a vast conspiracy at school to keep me ignorant about my pawn roll in the other vast conpiracy by keeping me vastly bored. (In a very vast sense) And: did you ever notice that the word "conspiracy" is vastly similar to the word "constipation". I only mention this 'cause I've accidently spelled constipation instead of conspiracy a few times. (on accident, vast number of times) Hee-Hee! Isn't vast a funny word? You can just picture sterotypical pirates saying, "A vast ye mateys!". I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it sure is funny:) You don't agree? Shame on you! Code: 888 of The Flaming Chickens Handbook states that The Patron Saint of Paperclips (still me) is always right. ALWAYS. If the facts beg to differ, than the facts are wrong. End of story. Seeya. I'm back. I've been playing one of the new neopets slot machines (black pawkeet). I'm completly and totally addicted. Gambling is so much fun! I've won 500 np, at least and I'm on a roll. Now sure, I could have won more than 500 at some game in which you don't have to pay to play. But, what would be the fun in that? I even came up with a mathematical explanation for why gambling is fun (while I was eating a hyper-speed dinner, thinking nothing of getting back to the slot machine). Okay. If you don't understand the concept of numbers less than zero, (negative numbers) just skip this part. Imagine a number line that points in the positive and negative direction. When I start playing a game, I am on 0. I have neither won nor lost money/neopoints. When I win 500np on a normal game, I move to the 500 point. There is exactly 500 units of distance between the two extremes of winning amounts (0 and 500) BUT! When I play a gambling game, there is a possibility that I'll lose everything, so I start on negative however much NP I have with me. If I had 500np with me, I'd be at-500. Then, when I win 500 additional np, I move to the 500np point. The distance between the two extremes of how much I could have won is 1000np, making me feel like I've won much more than if I'd played a normal game. Did you understand that? Good. I probably won't later. But that is irrelevant. Goodbye! I am back. And I hava a very, almost special rant for you. The previous sentence made absolutly no sense. Good for it. In a recent article, humorist Dave Barry discussed the addictive quality of the snack food, Cheez-Its. Naturally, I had many mixed feelings, primarily disgust, as I have not voluntarily eaten a Cheez-It in quite some time. They're disgusting, bland and definitly not made of cheez, whatever that is. My family has always bought Cheez-Its, to the point of making me physically sick at the thought of eating one. (To this day, however, I will almost literally kill for a box of Cheez-It party mix, as it is a rare commodity at my house.) Fortunatly, my mom recently finnaly switched our snack food preference. To Cheese Nips. Say it. Out loud. What does it sound like? When you look at them they are identical to the evil little Cheez-Its. The only difference is the taste, which I enjoy, since it is new and different. What I want to know is this: are there no intelectual property rights in the world of food products? I mean, don't you think the creators of Cheese-Nips had a box of Cheez-Its out when they were designing their product? It seems like blaggerent plagerism. The only reason the makers of Cheese-Nips don't get sued is because of the tast difference and Cheese Nips are made of real "cheese" rather than cheez. It makes you think of Name-Brand vs. Generic cereal brands. They are the samething, with the same look, and almost same name. But people buy name brands. Why, because they assume it's better quality. Plus, boxes are more convient than bags. A profound statement, if I ever heard one. Any way, I'm leaving to eat some Cheessy goodness! I'm back. Apparantly my standards of weird have gone up. This morning, my Mom came home from work. She was upset, because she had accidently run over an armidillo. She said she hurt it the first time, and wanted to put it out of it's misery, so she went back and ran over it 11 more times. But it's legs were still moving and it was alive. She was extremly upset. When I related this story to my friends (including "Meg") they thought it was hilarious. They couldn't stop laughing. I thought it was sad...and normal. They particularly liked how I said that she went back and ran over it 11 more times. I'm not sure why. Of course, when I next saw my Mom, she retold the story to me, several times. With the exact same words, motions and emotions. She didn't think it was weird, either. Perhaps my family is just so weird, we've lost all sense of perspective. Or maybe it's everybody else that's weird. I just don't know. What do you think, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know either? Hmmmmm...what is this world coming to? Oh, by the way, I was paid a decent compliment today. One of my friends (who laughed at the armidillo story) named Tonileigh said "Jenny (that's me) is weirder than the average Psycho." and " You think Jenny's weird? Wait till you see her in angry mob form!" Now THAT'S just weird. "angry mob form"? That just sounds nifty! I can clone myself and form and angry mob? In anycase, this was particularly funny because Tonileigh is one of my "normaler" friends. Although I tell you she can't possibly be normal, since she hangs out with me. Anyway, I'm gonna go. I gots stuff to do! I'm back. If you'll look toward the bottom of this page, you'll notice that I added a nifty little thing called the "babel fish". It will translate any thing, to anything else. Ain't it nifty? What's really fun is to translate an English saying, like out of sight, out of mind. Then, when it's in German, or whatever, translate it back to English. It's so completly garbled, it's funny. For instance, I wrote: "I am the Crazy Taco!", and translated it to German. I then copied and pasted the German and put it in the text box. I translated it from German to English and got "I am the Moved Taco!" See? Hours of completly useless fun! This has been my hourly Public Service Announcement that I only do when I feel like it. Seeya! I'm back! Woooo! And do I ever have a topic today! I've been a paranoid, conspiracy seeking mood lately and the newest threat to my sanity is: smoke detectors! Come on, think about it! In all those 911 shows, people wake up and their house is engulfed in flames. The smoke detector either never went off, or went off and the people just slept through it. Okay, fire is loud. And hot...and smoky. If you can sleep through a raging fire, close enough to set off the smoke detector, then you are definitly going to sleep through the smoke detector. Plus, the fire gradually gets louder, and hotter, and smokier. The sleeping person will gradually get used to it (and incorporate it into their dreams). By the time the smoke dector goes off, the fire has drowned it out to no more than an annoying buzz. My point is that smoke detectors have very little value in home security. Okay, one day, in the future, smoke dectectors will probably activate litte fire-fighter bots that every home will have. But untill that day, the concept of the smoke detector is useless. If you're awake to hear it, chances are that you've already noticed the smoke, fire and eminent danger. If you're asleep, the fire will wake you. So, that leads us to the evil paranoid conspiracy I thought of the other night. What if the smoke detectors have tiny litte cameras in them? That would explain that annoying green little blinkie light in them. Unless, of course, the government was smart enough to have cameras without the blinkie light. In any case, wouldn't the blinkie light help night-vision cameras see in the dark? It only takes a little light to help those thingies, and smoke detectors provide more than a little. I can even see the shadow of my hand on the wall from the light those things shed. It's annoying. Here I am, trying to get a decent nights sleep and there's this green light that periodically blinks to red directly in front of me. It's a small light, but it's sooooooo annoying. There MUST be some sort of conspiracy involved, 'cause if there is, I can get rid of the EVIL thing! So, fellow conspiracy nuts: Take down the evil governmental safety device and take it apart. If you can still think during all that incessent beeping, you'll probably find evidence that I'm really paranoid. Or possibly right...that would be scary. In any case...I guess that smoke detectors are a neccesary evil...but...WHY DO THEY HAVE TO HAVE THAT STUPID LIGHT? Does it serve an obvious purpose? No! That's why it MUST be EVIL! You cannot deny the logic of my thinking! Now...I'm gonna go and worry about the light on my toaster oven...seeya! *sighs dramatically* I'm back. It's not fair, ya know? Each Friday, I wait (all tingly with anticipation) for the weekend so that I can stay up 'till the wee hours of the morning and sleep past noon. But my idiotic body has an automatic alarm clock, or something. During the weekdays, I get about seven hours of sleep (usually less) and wake up at 6:11 a.m. Yep. Now, some of you are probably calling me a whiner, 'cause you have to get up at 4:30, or whatever. And lots of you are probably gloating 'cause you don't have to get up 'till 8:30. The reason I have to get up at 6 something is that I...I...I ride the bus to school. Yeah...I know...pathetic. (Believe me, though, you never want to see me drive...I get easily distracted by clouds and signs saying FREE KITTIES!...kitties are hugable...but if you hug them...they'll scratch your eyes out...so then you have to hiss at them and establish dominence...but kitties don't like that...even though dogs do...but kitties are obviously not dogs...even though they are fuzzy.) So...my lack of a car and driving skills force me to use the bus, which comes for me 45 minutes before my school even starts. It's stupid. It only takes me a few minutes to get ready, then I can go back to bed. Now...I bet you're wondering why I don't just wake up a few minutes before I have to go. My sister. My evil, EVIL sister. That's why. She's evil. SHE has to get up at 6:11 to put on make-up, do her hair and basically annoy the heck out of me. So rather than battle her over the concept of getting dressed in the dark, I get up. Oh...I'm rambling again, aren't I? Back to the original topic! So...when the weekend rolls around, I'm fairly exhausted. But, my stupid internal alarm clock is starting to wake me up around six. I can usually fall back asleep (if I don't panic and think I'm late for school), but the stupid thing wakes me up again exactly seven hours after I originally fell asleep. Which is why it's not even 10:00 and here I am, typing. Which I suppose may be a good thing, seeing as how I'm currently in a Longest Text Ever Rivalry with Galaxy Dreamer's site. *cough*She's winning*cough* But that's just because I have so much to do to mantain and update this site, I rarely get a chance to just sit here and type. Oh, and I would like to mention to my *snicker* LOYAL fans that this Longest Text Ever DOES get updated at least once a week, so please, please, please, PLEASE do not read this once, in one sitting and then leave forever, and ever and ever! It makes me sad...*sniffle* Well...I feel better now. Did you know that I now possess a DOMAIN NAME? Yep. That's right! It'll be ready soon, ain't it great? Okay, back to the flaming-chickens LTE rivalry. Another reason why this isn't as long as Galaxy's is that I refuse to write every day as it would--this is the funny part--LOWER THE QUALITY OF MY OVERALL WORK! HA-HA! HILARIOUS! "lower the quality"? Sometimes I crack myself up. If this was quality work, I'd publish it and make a fortune. Speaking of publishing, I do plan on somehow, someday publishing this as the first rambling narrative that makes no sense, and is about as interesting as rereading the almanac. I'd probably losemoney, but the concept is interesting. I think. Anyway, I better go or the quality of this will go down in that evil downward spiral thing I discussed a few months back. Seeya. I'm back. Wooooo! I's can get to my site again! It was down for a whole day or so 'cause of all the traffic I got from my new quizes. I have an extra-special rant for you all today, to celebrate the new domain name! www.flaming-chickens.com! Okay. I am now barophobic (afraid of gravity). I recently learned in my EVIL Physics class that on average, humans lose one inch of height during the day due to gravity pushing on their spine. The height is regained at night, when you're laying down. This naturally alarmed the HECK out of me! GRAVITY IS EVIL! It's pushing down on me, squishing my spine. MY SPINE IS SQUISHY! That's is just so extremly creepy. What if, eventually, Earth's gravity get's very very strong, and we all imploud from the squishyness? It'd be like when you go to the bottom of the ocean, only with gravity instead of pressure...*shudders* Pressure is evil, too. Air pressure. Did you know that there is over two miles of air sitting on you right now? Even though air is light, that much air adds up. TWO MILES? Even the air is conspiring to squish me! If you don't believe that all that air has weight, try going into space sometime. Space is notorious for not having air. When you're in space (without a space suit) you don't SUFFUCATE, you don't FREEZE. You exploud. Since all that nifty air isn't pressin' on you, your guts and stuff are free to go wherever they want, and the EVIL little things decide to roam around. Outside your body. It's creepy. So...air pressure can be a good thing. Even though it gains pleasure from squishing my spine. That's it, I'm gonna take drastic measures! I'm gonna launch THE OFFICIAL FLAMING CHICKENS LUNAR COLONY! The moon has one-sixth of Earth's gravity. And absolutly NO air-pressure. We can all wear spiffy space-suits and feel all superiour to all those stupid earthlings. So...if you wish to contribute to this great and magneficent and magestic and MOOSEY project...we need the following things: 739 rolls of aluminium foil (preferably the extra shiny kind) 417 refridgerator boxes, 9000 rolls of "sticky on both sides" duct tape, 300 lbs of chicken feathers (preferably white) and 1 (one) thermo-nuclear-rocket-thruster. If you can spare any of these items, please e-mail them to me. Yes. E-mail. Did you really think I'd give you guys my ADDRESS? Now...I know what you guys are thinking...some of those items on that list are gonna be hard to find. Especially that duct tape. But, believe me, it's MUCH more practical than the alternative. What is the alternative, you ask? I'll tell you. Making me(The Patron Saint of Paperclips) the Ruler of the Laws of Nature! That way I can just outlaw the need for gravity and air pressure! I'm already half way there, since I conclusivly proved (in Physics class) that gravity actually causes things to slow down and EVENTUALLY GO UP! Sure, my TEACHER said that was because I was doing the problems wrong, but once I'm the Ruler of the Laws of Nature, I'll change the problems so that I'm right! Oooo! I thought of another very good reason to assist with the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony! As we all know, the world is going to end in about 380,695 days! This means that we only have a very short while to prepare. And I sugest that we build the rocket so that we can go to the Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony so that we can laugh at the stupid earthlings who are blowing up because they didn't listen to us when we tried to warn them about the impending doom! Once we are on our Lunar Landing Site, we will engage in many exciting activites, primarily related to suffucating and starving. If (and this is a big if) the world DOES survive, we can beg them for food, oxygen and other supplies. They'll probably just call us weird and laugh at us, but that's beside the point! I can even see the Official Flaming Chicken Rocket. It'll be covered in chicken feathers, and shaped like a chicken. The foil will make up the beak and the folded legs, and the thruster can simulate the tail. It will be a truly magestic site, as it launches from the earth, spewing excess oxygen, cardboard, feathers and tape. But, act now, or it will be too late, and you will be one of the losers that we'll be laughing at, assuming we have air to laugh with. Remember, e-mail psopc@flaming-chickens.com the much needed supplies...if that is possible. If not, then some day, when the Internet is down and I'm really bored, I will construct a model OFCR and attempt to launch it. That will be a wonderous day. I think I'll get my little sister to be the test piolet. Well...better go...I need to plan this out more...I'm back. And mildly weirded-out. My dad...was on this site. My dad. It even SOUNDS weird. He took the TAB member quiz and turned out to be me, he took the JOB quiz, and was a repo man (which had a pic of my brother) He said he wanted to see what I was doing, and to make sure that I wasn't saying anything derrogatory about my parents. He looked me upvia yahoo's search engine using flaming-chicken as the keyword. It took him to my quiz page. So he probably didn't see the majority of my site. It's just weird. All along, my entire family has scoffed (nifty word, isn't it?) about my site, and called me weird. I dunno...I guess I'm just kinda freaked out. Oh, and don't forget to celebrate Mad Hatter Day on October the 6th. Seeya. I'm back. I had some conspriacy or another to rant about. But then I listened to some of the new music I put on my site and mellowed out. I can't remember what I was gonna rant about. Oh, yeah. Now I do. "Purified" water. Just wait a sec while I stop the music. *content sigh* There we go...that's much better. Now I can think. That's right, folks. "Purified" water. Now...just stop a second and contemplate that. Pure means, well, no extra stuff. 100% of something. Right? Well, next time you buy your $3 FREAKIN' dollar bottle of water, consider this. On almost all the "purified" water bottles I've ever seen it has the following mesage: "Purified through reverse osmosis. Minerals added for a pure, fresh taste." In other words, they take all that extra "stuff" out to make it pure. Then they add other "stuff" in to make it TASTE pure. But it's not. For all you, the uninformed consumer, could know, it might have rat poison in it. "Pure" water manufactuerers are not required to list the ingredients of water, because the average consumer believes that it should be obvious. But that is false! They add random minerals to our water to make it taste better, and then advertise it as pure! It's an outrage! I'd rather drink the "impure" tap water where at least I KNOW that someone, somewhere tested it. It's a law, I think. But does anyone test "pure" water? Most likely they test it BEFORE they add the extra stuff..."Yep, Bob, this is some mighty pure water." "Yep, Bill, time to dump the arsnic in so it tastes pure!" What kind of reasoning is that? Wouldn't pure water TASTE pure, and impure water TASTE impure? The insanity and stupidity is mind boggling! That's why I like fast-food salt. It actually lists what random minerals they through in to make it TASTE like salt. There's salt, of course, and aluminum sulfate, and other compounds. But the point is, if I were, say, freakily allergic to a random mineral, I could read the ingredients and not eat the salt. That's what they need to do with the water. Or, at the very least, not label it as "pure". Okay. That's the rant of the week, month, year, whatever. I'll probably have another one soon, but that whole water thing has been buggin me for awhile. Well...seeya! Er...yeah...I'm back. It's been awhile, (at least two weeks) since I've written here. I've been obsessed with various webcomics, creating the stupidly long new Phobia Quiz and being maniacly hysterical about my site always being down due to bandwith issues. I'm goin' light on the advertising at the moment, which is why I'm free to write here. I WANT to write. But I can't think of anything to write about. Typical. I finnaly get some free time to rant and rave and all my topics just magically melted away. Let's see...what have I ranted about before, subliminal messages, vast breakfast cereal conspiracies, water, uh...reality tv? And that's just what I can list from memory. Oh, yeah! How could I forget the stupid Tootsie Roll Pop Commercials? TACO is still in my heart. *sighs*...now...let's see...what to rant about today... ... ... ... ... I can't think of anything!? Is this writer's block?! Or maybe I just wanna go to bed. Sleeping is fun. Well...let's see. Did you know that statistics prove that 45% of all statistics are completly made up by me (The Patron Saint of Paperclips)? Well...they are. Ha! I see you have no reaction to that, do you Hypothetical Reader? I have once again caused that explody sensation in your brain meats! You cannot DEFEAT me! I rule the...er...*random Loyal Minion whispers in ear* That's right! I rule the Internet! The Official FLaming-Chickens Handbook already confirms that fact! You CANNOT DENY it! It says that in black and...er lime green! It MUST be true! Because it is in those veyr colors that the Matrix is programmed! Ahhh...I see your confusion! You cannot follow the vast, mind-boggling logic that is ME! Wait...how...how can I BE logic? That doesn't make any sense...you can't BE something abstract...can you? Now MY brain meats feel explody. That's not fair! I see your EVIL plot now, Hypothetical Reader! You just let me rant on and on for you KNEW that eventually I would confuse myself with my vast puddle of knowledge. You are devious...I give you that. Unfortunantly...I must leave...before the confusion spreads and I do something stupid...like revealing my one weakness before you...THAT'S IT! Code 452 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paperclips (ME!!!) does not, has never, and will absolutly NOT admit to having any weakness...besides the aformention indivduals own skin, which isn't even a weakness anyway since no representative of the Dark, Fluffier Side can BE the Patron Saint of Paperclips (Guess, who...no...no...THAT'S IT!) and even if they could it wouldn't do them any good because it would scare them instead of the aformentioned individual. Boy...I really enjoy confusing myself!:) Seeya! I'm baaaaa-ack! Aren't you happy? Here, see if you can find the super-secret message!

'''Whle you wait oresterday's tmorrow, lngebakdmember tht ay. You know e one. Yeah, thdoesn't mean anything to . Ayou surised? viously not. nswer me, you obbreak! ffer my ndingly oronc i.''' Did you find it? Wasn't it super? And secret? I thought it was. But then, I'm me...and you're you. I think. I'm pretty sure you're not me...but you could be that other guy. Yeah...that...guy...you know who I'm talking about. No? Do not MOCK me! I know where you are right now! Spooky, huh? Ooooo...time for today's topic. My favorite stuff...JTHM...I have my libraries copy of JTHM...I shall quote Noodle Boy for you:) (Full copyright/credit to Jonhnen Vasquez for writin' the stuff, I'm just sharing the spleeny goodness with you). (it's edited, of course, to stay PG13...**** signifies a random naugty word:)) "HEY, DOG ENTITY! RISE UP AND BARE YOUR BISCUIT FILTY FANGS AT THE LEASH WIELDING DEMON!! **** MY NAVEL ITCHES!! MEOW!MEOW!MEOW! CAT CHOW!!! CEASE YOUR FLATULENT WINDS AND HEAR MY MIND NUMBING EXPULSIONS OF WICKED NOISE! GRRR!! CHEESE!!! I SENSE YOUR ENVY OF MY NECK!! AND I DONT BLAME YOU!! DROOOOOL OVER MY MAGICAL POWERS!! I HAVE POWERS PINTO BEANS CAN ONLY DREAM OF! WANNA SEE ME PULL A TAPEWORM OUTTA MY ****!! HUH?!...STARE DEEP INTO THE STINKING ABYSS OF MY INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED SLICES!!! HOLY WAX! CHECK OUT MY ARMPITS!!! HEEEEY! WAIDAMINIT!! WAIT JUST A POLYP PICKING MINUTE!! I SEE YOUR GAME! YOU WILL NOT SINK MY CHEERIO!! I SEE WHAT IS TRANSPIRING HERE!!! YOU'RE ALL ZOMBIE THIGH-FAT PEOPLE BROUGHT INTO ANIMATION BY SOME EVIL FORCE OF FORCEFUL EVIL!!! **** THAT LIPSTICKS THE WRONG COLOR FOR YOU!! MOOOO! WOOF! OH, DON'T YOU SEE THE TOENAILS?!! OH, SO SPLENDID!! A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K...! UNDER SUCH EXTREME HEAT, WEAR AND DEGRADATION IS INEVITABLE!! PARTS BREAK AFTER OVERUSE!! AND THAT IS WHY TOASTER PASTRIES WILL BURST INTO FLAMES IF YOU DON'T KEEP AN EYE ON THEM! Now, wasn't that entertainment. I added to the lenghth of the LTE without even thinking! That's talent. Lots of gooey talent. Unfortunatly, I once again am devoid of a topic. And any weirdness I could come up with would be normal compared to Noodle Boy, so...I bid thee farewell...seeya! I'm back. And I've realized that I am a complete idiot. For an ENTIRE MONTH I have possesed the arcane knowledge, but I forgot to share it with you, my loyal potentially imaginary reader. I know. You're shocked at my selfish, bad, memory. I apologize from the depths of my moosey soul. For, you see...my life long goal has been fufilled...*anticipatory silence*...THERE ACTUALLY IS GRAPE PIE!!!! I know...you are as shocked as I am. One day I was randomly looking up images via Google...and 'lo and behold, there it was. Grape Pie. It was as if it had been just sitting there...waiting for me to discover it. Apparantly Grape Pie isn't mainstream, but it has existed for some time. In obscure cookbooks. Well...that just makes me filled with gooey happiness. Of course, there is also regret...after all, I could have made a fortune if I'd been the first to think of it. Oh, well. There was something else I had to tell you loyal *cricket chirps, someone coughs* fans. I can't remember what. I guess I'll just rant and rave about that whole vicious downward spiral of my writing. I mean, I KNOW people are coming here...I have proof! *holds up a piece of paper, which, from a distance, appears to have writing on it* Yes, undenyable proof! But this proof degrades this mysterious, mystical and mystifying "quality" of my words. After all, how can I be self derisive, and full of low expectations for this site if I KNOW people are here...several thousand of them in fact, in just a few months. It's strange. I felt more fufilled when this site was a barren wastland of useless space. But, if it had remained that way, I would have had no impetus to continue my pointlessly insane ranting. Oh, speaking of insane, I STILL need those much needed supplies for the Official Flaming-Chickens Lunar Colony! No one has even bothered to e-mail them to me...*sniffle*. I needs the duct tape! How can I survive without the sticky goodness? HOW, I ask you!? It cannot be...hmmmm...maybe I should just use IMAGINARY duct tape...it's easier to come by ,but it's much more expensive...I'm not sure what to do. *enter Squirell* What's that, little Squirell? That's just silly. You KNOW I ran out of imaginary money last week when I bought that imaginary country. WHAT!? Just "imagine" I have more!? What a crazy idea. So crazy it just might work! *scrunches eyes and makes funny sounds* Nope. It didn't. I guess I'll just have to wait untill my imaginary clone hijacks that imaginary bank truck. Until then...I have absolutly no imaginary money. What ever shall I do? I won't be able to feed my various imaginary pets and friends their beloved imaginary food! Squirell? You gots extra money, don't you? *nods* I thought so. You give to me? No? I gives you imaginary IOU's...here...yours. Thank you Squirell. *Squirell wanders off in search of electrical sockets to sniff* What's that, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know who Squirell is? You haven't been paying attention have you? She's my little puppy...she fears grape flavored stuff, wind, rain, television, noise, silence, small children and pretty much everything. She likes sniffing potentially dangerous stuff, like electrical sockets. Surely you have heard of her? Still no? Oh, well. You know...I enjoy having these conversations with you. It really lets me get to know you. What's that? You say I'm really just talking to myself? What an eccentric idea! To think, YOU are trying to tell ME that YOU aren't here. How absurd. After all, I'm talking to you, aren't I? *nods* Well, yeah...I KNOW I'm actually typing instead of talking. Wait a minute...so you're saying that I'm talking and responding to you, but you won't be reading this until long after I have finished typing? Now who's the crazy one? For that theory to work, I'd have to be psychic...or in possesion of a freaky time-traveling computer. Because what you're saying is that I'm talking to people in the future. That my words somehow travel accross time (if only a few minutes) and are somehow picked up by future you, and that my responses are dictated by future you's reactions. What? You mean that I'm just randomly responding regardless of your reactions? Why, that would be insane, wouldn't it? That's the point you're trying to get across? *pauses* Oh. I see. You wanna play that way. Well...two can play by THOSE rules. You wanna try to convince me I'M crazy? Well, look at you? How do you know I even exist? For all you know you could be staring at that freaky 3-D maze screen saver with a blank look on your face while you THINK you're reading an inhumanly long text. For all you know, you could be halucinating my entire site! For that matter, how do you know that ANYTHING but you exists! You could be floating out in empty space, conjuring nice little fantasies to relieve the monotony of being the only living being! Every single person you know could just be figments of your imagination, you could even be in a crazy house! Not only that, but how do you know that YOU actually exist? You could be the figment of someone else's dream. What would happen when that dreamer woke? Are you happy? You got me started. I may NEVER shut up. I'll just go on and on about how crazy you COULD be. All because YOU tried to convince me that I was crazy. *blinks* And I STILL can't remember what else I was gonna say to you people. Strange, huh? Well, I better leave before I go on and on about more "reality" theories. Makes you wonder about "reality" television, huh? Seeya. I'm back. Grrrr...I had a nifty rant all planned out in my head. And then I was unable to get on the computer and I forgot most of it. Oh, but I did remember what else I wanted to say to you people. Remember that rant I did on how there could be a secret camera in the smoke detector? I few months ago I saw a movie about that. It was pretty good. Maybe I'd seen it before, and that's where I got the idea. I forgot it's name. Well...I DO have a special treat for you weirdos who apparantly like wasting time! Today, in my (Honors) English class, we did group work. My group...well...we either went hysterical or crazy, I can't decide which. We had to do an essay on a book. There was a sample essay online. It sucked. It tooked about envelooping (enveloping) cracked nuts and parables. So we were already off to a bad start. Here is the sum total of my group's work. (Note: I wrote virtually none of this, so I cannot be blamed, credited with any of this. "Lots of death, lots and lots of death in this section. Death is like life in that after you die some things start life again inside of you. 'Ah the power of cheese!' The author's vision was unique in that only he put biscuits and death in the same sentence. 'I found nothing else to do but to offer him on of my good Swede's ship's biscuits I had in my pocket'" And we're supposed to be GOOD in English! We KNEW how terrible it was, but we just didn't bother to change it. Especially the part about the biscuits and cheese. We just picked random words in the selection and wrote about them. It was sad. In any case, I hope you enjoyed our patheticness. Seeya! I'm back. Today I will be mercifully brief. I am here to bring AWARNESS to your moosey soul! Right now, while you are sitting in your "chair" and eating your "junk food", millions of almonds are commiting suicide. Yes...that's right...suicide. I was alerted to this growing problem in our world community by (Kat, the ruler of all that is almondy)...and it greatly concerns me. People just don't realize that their almonds and mixed nuts may be having depression and other problems. We need to act now! For more information, e-mail  EnpuUnknown@msn.comWell...seeya! I'm so very, very tired. Today was Halloween. I worked for four hours at the "Library of Terror" sponsered by TAB. TAB members got pizza...lots of pizza...and candy. Ugh. It was fun, but exhausting. I was almost completly covered in (fake) blood...it was sticky toward the end. One guy was a "shock therepy" patient...he was a good actor. He acted like he was really being tortured and stuff. I'm tired. I bet you couldn't tell. Why am I writing? Because this is the first time I've been on a computer all day. You can't blame me. Don't worry, I'll go to bed soon. In the mean time, I'll just sit here and type with my eyes closed. It's hard to type because of the bandaid on my finger. I accidently cut it with scizzors. It hurt. The fake blood seeped into the open wound. Gee...I sure hope it wasn't poisonous. If so, I guess I won't be writing here for quite awhile...seeya. Okay, this next rant has nothing to do whatsoever with Halloween...which is to be expected because it's been several days since then. Anyway, today's rant is about one of my many and various pet peeves: fasion and...stuff. My definition of fasion includes clothes, shoes, jewelery and all things of that nature. Now, don't get me wrong. I can appreciate a spiffy black outfit as much as the next person, but everytime I consider actually buying clothes for aesthetic value, I think about how I could better spend my money. On video games. Sure, some of this "fasion" stuff is cool and all, but all it shows is that you had the three and three-quarters brain cells required to copy someone else's "look". And don't even get me started on earrings. My little, eviler sister got her ears pierced when she was relativly younger. My mom did it to her because it was free. OF FREAKIN' COURSE IT WAS FREE! Just like thos so called "diet supplements" that give you a "free" sample because they know that once you try it, you'll like it so much you'll spend oodles of cash on it. (There's probably drugs in it). Anyway, like the "diet supplement" people, the earring manufacturers KNOW that once they pierce you, you'll be hooked for life. *pauses* *groans* I'm sorry for that pun (pierced, hooked, getit?). AS soon as you're pierced, you have to buy "starter" earrings. Then you'll need an "extra" pair...for special occasions. Before you know it you'll realize that you need Christmas earrings, Halloween earrings, Valentine's Day earrings, St. Patrick's Day earrings, for crying out loud! You'll wear these "festive" earings for about a day and then abandon them in some dark cranny of your closet because you simply can't wear the same earrings two years in a row for heaven's sake! Then you'll see these cute little "days-of-the-week" earrings at the mall, and you'll just have to get a few sets, just in case you lose some. By the time you're eighty, you'll have enough ear jewelry to open up your own jewelry shop. Of course, you won't want to do that becuase you still need more earrings so people won't think you wear the same ones over and over again. When I think of how much money people WASTE on appearences, it makes me feel like projectile vomiting. If that's not a vast conspiracy, then nothing on this Earth is. Now, I'm not speaking from personal experience here. No one I know is that obsessed with earrings, it was just an example. (Although my mother does have a "earring tree".) Sure, certain members of my family do pay WAY to much attention to fasion, but that's just because of the expectations of society. I, being weird, am pretty much immune to such expectations. Except those specially formulated for weird-o's like me. If I were to suddenly convert this entrie site into a *shudders* Backstreet Boys fan site or something, you wouldn't be any more suprised than I would be if my brother woke up one day and suddenly realized that he's shallow. It's the same concept. (No, I don't like any of those creepy "pop" stars. I think that they should routinly die a slow, savage, agonizing death...I was just saying a random thing that I would never, ever do.) Well...any way...seeya! I'm back. And today's rant is a sort of philosophical one. It's about the (supposedly) infinite nature of the universe. Suprised? It's spiffy. You see, if the universe is indeed infinite, that means that literally EVERYTHING is possible, and in fact, is happening somewhere in the universe. Think about it. No matter how unlikely something is, if the universe is infinite, it's happening an infinite number of times. Think about that old saying about "If you gave an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters, eventually they would reproduce the entire works of Shakespear". That makes complete and total sense! Anyone just randomly typing letters will eventually accidently write a word, right? Now think of 100 people typing randomly. You figure that one of those 100 people would actually have a coherent phrase. And one out of a million people would probably have a few sentences. So if you have an infinite number of people, some are going to have entire books of coherent stuff. And, you have to remember that because infinity is infinite, you can divide it an infinite number of times. Try it. If you have a decent graphing calculator, plug in the infinity symbol divided by anything, (even infinity). The answer is still infinity. Using my philosopy, that EVERYTHING exists because the universe is infinite...well...think about it. In some far off world, there are pokemon...there are an evil race of muffin like creatures, there is a world with ABSOLUTLY NO COMMERCIALS DURING TELEVISION! I know, unlikely, huh? But somewhere, it exists. Think about it. If the universe is infinite it would be crazy to think that we're alone. With an infinite universe, there are infinite possibilites. There ARE aliens. Not only that, but there are an infinite number of different kinds of intelligent life. Which means that there are an infinite number of worlds with humanoid life. (Think of the fake-looking Star Trek aliens). If there are an infinte number of worlds with human life, than there are an infinte number of worlds that have someone exactly like you, with only a few key differences. (Like alternate dimensions and stuff) So, there is a world where you are the creator of this Longest Text Ever. There is a world where you are a faerie. There is a world where you were never born. There is a world where you are a slave to your TOASTER OVEN. The possibilities are literally endless. Every fantasy the human mind has concieved exist at some place in the universe. There are an infinite number of worlds with Harry Potter. Think about it. I came up with this philosophy when I was in fifth grade. I'd tell it to my little brother as a bed time story. He always enjoyed it because it meant that somewhere, he was the Supreme Dictator of the Galaxy. That made him happy. He ignored the fact that he was also a 72 year old "sanitation engineer" somewhere. All the good possibilities effectivly cancel out the bad ones, leaving the sum total of you and your counterparts experiences as nothing. You don't have the best life of your counterparts, but you don't have the worst either. Because that would be impossible. There is always someone worse off and better off than you. Because there are an infinite number of people on either side of the spectrum. Confusing, huh? But that's the kind of thing I like. That also explains why normal stuff confuses me. I'm sure some so called "scientist" can prove all my theories wrong...but how? How do you PROVE something is not infinite? You'd have to find the end, of course. But how, may I ask, can you find the end of the FREAKIN' universe? What, is there a giant sign saying, "DEAD END"? The universe is EVERYTHING, how can it end? At the same time, how can you prove something IS infinite? You could travel in a straight line at the speed of light for a million years and all you'd prove is that the universe is really, really big. But you'd never prove it was infinite. How could you? Our mind's cannot conceive of the vastness of infinity. We'd probably go crazier. In any case, my theory means that playing video games is very cruel. Why, you ask? Because in some world, the video game is real. So when you kill, or whatever, in the game, you are actually ending life somewhere in the universe. Of course, you also end life by sneezing, eating, sleeping, and watching T.V. According to my theory that everything is real. Of course, if everything is real...then the Universe is pretty contradictory. The paradox of my system of beliefs leads me to believe that the universe, in fact, is not infinite. Because nature supposidly abhors a paradox. Although, as I said, there's no way to prove me wrong OR right. That's what I like about making abstract theories... Anyway, sorry for the lack of relative weirdness, conspiracy theories and doughnuts (my Moose ate them all). Well...now that I think about it...according to my theory, ALL conspiracies are real and mislabled "paranoid" people are really the only ones who see the truth. *blinks* Wow...so I'm NOT paranoid. Who'da thought it? Well...better go before one of my two and half sane readers falls asleep:) Seeya! I'm back! Boy, are you mythical, mystical readers in for a treat, today! I have a guest rant/fake commercial written by "Meg" (who is once again banned from accessing the almighty Internet). Are you ready? No? Too Bad! ''The magic eight-ball glows with knowledge! With a shake, the future is revealed! The magic eight-ball is a plastic casing with an unknown, possibly toxic liquid inside. The future is determined by the triangles, in a startling blue color which spin around in a zany manner. Wheather you're saved or doomed, find out now! Is that old lady on the street corner really an ex-convict? Is fat-free food more delicious than food loaded with fat? Is your school playground a gateay to the underworld? All this information and more is yours for the low, low price of 5 payments of $29.99! And, if you call within the next ten minutes you get a free eight ball with the one you buy! But wait! There's more! Get the free Lil' Ball for your traveling needs! Warning: this product is illegal in most states)'' Wasn't that entertaining? "Meg" wrote it for a school assignment. We were supposed to write about a cherished child-hood toy, and attempt to turn our fond memories into a commercial. I wrote about furby, and how it was fun to watch it die. No, really. Somehow, I managed to make my furby die. It would sneeze, then start it's eight-hour-long death hum. It would hum, and hum, and hum...and then mercifully die. I don't exactly have a good track record with virtual pets. I once...*embarassed pause* had "Hey, You! Pikachu!"...a pokemon game. I'll only say that it was the first game you could "talk" to and was the first (and only) N64 virtual pet. Pikachu...well...he didn't like me. I gave him cupcakes, and presents, and did everything I could to befriend him! And what did he do to me? He snuck up on me one day in our room (in the game) with a sword! That's right, a sword! He tried to kill me! I heard something and turned around, and there he was! He even tried to hide the sword behind his back! When I tried to talk to him, he tossed it away nonchalantly and pretended he hadn't heard me. Then he preceeded to trash my room, scattering kleenex everywhere. I'm pretty sure that the "smelly yellow ball" that he started throwing was his own feces (poo). That dirty little rat. Awwww...isn't he cute? Hmmmm...I suppose I should clarify that the Pikachu game was 3-D and your character was in first person mode(you see through character's eyes). Otherwise you'd think I was delusional, or something. Everyone I know who has played that game is shocked when I tell them...oh, well. Speaking of virtual pets, I'm revamping the ones on this site. I've finnally figured out sorta, maybe, kinda, how to do stuff to make it more real. Anyway, seeya! OOooooo! I'm back, and I had yet another Asparagus War with some people. We made a guild, and I wrote out the transcripts of the first ever Asparagus War in narrative form (mock epic, very cheesey) Since it's very, very long, I'll post it here to meet my imaginary word quota for the day! Oh, and all those weird squiggly lines and symbols, those are supposed to be apostrophes, but neopet's code is weird, and I'm not gonna bother to edit it. Enjoy!