Ok something thats been going on for way to long. We live in a world where we communicate more throught he written word than anyother, through msn, email, text, Facebook chat, etc... and sarcasm and other basic human inflections are rarely grasped by the person at the other end. For example, a certain persons brother is doing well on facebook poker, and after bitching and screaming and litterally crying, cons me into joining his meagre facebook friends, he will not shut up detailing his every poker hand.
If that had been real life, he would have realised that when i said 'ok cool' for the 14th time, combined with my inflection and the murderous gleam in my eyes, he would have taken the hint and fucked off to cry. but online, 'ok cool' dosnt sound atall like 'i want to rip your heart out and show it too you before you die', which is what it really means.
antoher thing, people who think they are your friend online, but really you hate them. now i could use that friends brother again as another example, but there is a much more insidious perpetrator of this crime.
TOM FROM MYSPACE! FUCK OFF!
i wanted to put in this picture but it wont let me
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1651083477&ref=profile#/photo.php?pid=195697&id=1651083477
Monday, April 20, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Ms Pham owes Pat G. a bottle of Cremeing Soda that her slave children stole
Well yesterday we all went and played footy in the park at canley vale. Lets break that sentence down into smaller bite-size chunks.
We (like 8 guys) played (mostly they played, im shit) a game (shit verion) of footy in the park (was shit) in canley vale (even shitter).
anyway we played for like 20 minutes then dannis stacked it on his skateboard and all the asian guys left. Chuck, dannis, pat G., bacon and me all walked around canley vale and into Cabbramatta where we attacked ms phams shop and bought lunch which we ate in the park.
we went into ms phams shop and started hitting on her and her sisters. then we played a game to see how many items of clothing from her store we could wear at once. Then she took us on a tour of the store, ending with chuck almost getting locked in the backroom which she called "the sweatshop". we wore the big shoe, pat lost a bottle of creaming soda, i made ms phams sisters totally uncomfortable asking for their numbers, dannis started riding around the store on his skateboard, pat hugged ms pham and ms pham said dannis was hot. then dannis ollied and smashed ms phams floor tiles and we all piss bolted out.
then we wandered aimlessly around canley vale looking for kevin thais house, following very vauge directions from chuck. All asians know their way instictively around cabbramatta but never follow chuck anywhere, esspecially if it turns out hes never been there and has no clue if hes even going in the right direction.
anyway was fun.
We (like 8 guys) played (mostly they played, im shit) a game (shit verion) of footy in the park (was shit) in canley vale (even shitter).
anyway we played for like 20 minutes then dannis stacked it on his skateboard and all the asian guys left. Chuck, dannis, pat G., bacon and me all walked around canley vale and into Cabbramatta where we attacked ms phams shop and bought lunch which we ate in the park.
we went into ms phams shop and started hitting on her and her sisters. then we played a game to see how many items of clothing from her store we could wear at once. Then she took us on a tour of the store, ending with chuck almost getting locked in the backroom which she called "the sweatshop". we wore the big shoe, pat lost a bottle of creaming soda, i made ms phams sisters totally uncomfortable asking for their numbers, dannis started riding around the store on his skateboard, pat hugged ms pham and ms pham said dannis was hot. then dannis ollied and smashed ms phams floor tiles and we all piss bolted out.
then we wandered aimlessly around canley vale looking for kevin thais house, following very vauge directions from chuck. All asians know their way instictively around cabbramatta but never follow chuck anywhere, esspecially if it turns out hes never been there and has no clue if hes even going in the right direction.
anyway was fun.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
tribute to wilson
Why the fuck is the lindtt chocolate within arms reach? i cant stop eating them. i suppose if ic ould be bothered to just sort of shift forward in my seat, i could push them just far enough out of my way that i couldnt reach them without having to repeat the motion, i might not eat them due to the fatness and laziness which i have already gained from eating the said lindtt chocolates. but that seems counter productive as i really want another one.
no i havnt forgotten the blog, ive just been camping with sum people the last 4 days. great fun ;-)
anywayz im gonna have another lindtt chocolate and think back at my old friend wilson (RIP). wilson was a watermelon. actually his full name was 'wilson winstons-with-a-Y duby-boot the gong the watermelon II', but you know...that just roles right off the tongue. im guessing anybody reading this would have no clue what the fuck im talking about but i think you had to be there. but simon, gump, watley, shiteater, dom and the chicks no what im talikng about. no 7kg watermelon left behind *salutes*.
no i havnt forgotten the blog, ive just been camping with sum people the last 4 days. great fun ;-)
anywayz im gonna have another lindtt chocolate and think back at my old friend wilson (RIP). wilson was a watermelon. actually his full name was 'wilson winstons-with-a-Y duby-boot the gong the watermelon II', but you know...that just roles right off the tongue. im guessing anybody reading this would have no clue what the fuck im talking about but i think you had to be there. but simon, gump, watley, shiteater, dom and the chicks no what im talikng about. no 7kg watermelon left behind *salutes*.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Dolores Umbridge for PM in 2011
Last day of term. We played footy. I got tackled. Im hurting. i think i broked my sternum. oh well, im a real man. GRRRRRRR!!!!. Testosterone. (argh!).
man of the match must go to either garner (for not moving), konrad (for throwing the ball directly to the opposition or mechan (for stealing someones ipod just so he could watch it and have a reason to not play).
i killed dannis...ass.
man of the match must go to either garner (for not moving), konrad (for throwing the ball directly to the opposition or mechan (for stealing someones ipod just so he could watch it and have a reason to not play).
i killed dannis...ass.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Bela Lugosi
Oi deadly serious for a second.
ANZAC ceremony today. Whoever gave that firstspeech, about how the ANZACS were just mediocre and the british and french are awesome. You are about to experience a little thing i like to call 'lynching'. And no, it has nothing to do with mr.Lynch. look it up if your still confused.
Nah deadly serious but guys, have some respect. Those guys died so that i could get out of mathsfor the ceremony.
ANZAC ceremony today. Whoever gave that firstspeech, about how the ANZACS were just mediocre and the british and french are awesome. You are about to experience a little thing i like to call 'lynching'. And no, it has nothing to do with mr.Lynch. look it up if your still confused.
Nah deadly serious but guys, have some respect. Those guys died so that i could get out of mathsfor the ceremony.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Mahogany Desk Chair
Mr webber hates me. ooooops. i mean mrs webber hates me. i could go back and change it but ive typed all this now already. oh well. mrs webber hates me anyway. her exazct words "i am ashamed to have you in my class. you are a disgrace to me and everyone else in this school. im ashamed to be around you" and then after marking my short story "i think you should be in standard". lol
so never to be outdone, we have to write an intro, and probably eventually a whole, short story. i could write a new one. or i could just use the one i wrote last year for metua which i got full marks for. yes. thats much easier.
whats more is i discovered how to make anything sound good. if you just read a story, no matter how good, and you just speak fast and monotonely, it always sounds like it was written by someone with the personailty of a wet towel, but if you read it dramatically and in a whisper, and take unnecesarily long pauses it always sounds good.
anyway im genuinly curious to see what webber thinks of my story. my first paragraph and a half (which is all im handing in for the intro) is just describing a moment in time, in which nothing interesting has actually happened yet. i hope she dosnt like it so i can be a smartass.
'It was a single, crystalline moment, suspense and tense expectation hanging thick in the air, like a hawk moments before it swoops on its unsuspecting prey and one forever etched in the mind of all those who experienced it. When the course of the future of all mankind hangs in the balance, depending on one action, by one individual, in one moment, time seems to freeze expectantly. Still. Watching. Waiting.'
so never to be outdone, we have to write an intro, and probably eventually a whole, short story. i could write a new one. or i could just use the one i wrote last year for metua which i got full marks for. yes. thats much easier.
whats more is i discovered how to make anything sound good. if you just read a story, no matter how good, and you just speak fast and monotonely, it always sounds like it was written by someone with the personailty of a wet towel, but if you read it dramatically and in a whisper, and take unnecesarily long pauses it always sounds good.
anyway im genuinly curious to see what webber thinks of my story. my first paragraph and a half (which is all im handing in for the intro) is just describing a moment in time, in which nothing interesting has actually happened yet. i hope she dosnt like it so i can be a smartass.
'It was a single, crystalline moment, suspense and tense expectation hanging thick in the air, like a hawk moments before it swoops on its unsuspecting prey and one forever etched in the mind of all those who experienced it. When the course of the future of all mankind hangs in the balance, depending on one action, by one individual, in one moment, time seems to freeze expectantly. Still. Watching. Waiting.'
Saturday, April 4, 2009
"Is the life on mars?" by david bowie
oi i had to write a short story intro for extension english.
i know noone will but im oosting here anyway so if anybody wants to gimemt heir thoughts, much obliged good sir/madam/hermaphrodite.
It was cold. So very, very cold. The biting wind rushed around him, howling like a wounded animal. It rushed at him, sweeping along the ice, hitting his face and forcing his clothes to press tight into his body. Beyond the seemingly endless sea of ice and snow surrounding him, vision was virtually nonexistent.
There was no feeling left in his hands or feet. The long matted hair and beard was rigid and full of ice, and he could feel icicles clinging to the underside of his nose. His lips were blue and his mouth was iced shut, but he had no need to speak. He was truly and utterly alone in this barren, desolate tundra. He traipsed on in silence, alone and lost, placing one foot in front of the other in what seemed like an endless cycle. He had no destination, but to stop moving was to submit to certain death. To keep moving was to postpone the inevitable.
He was tired now. The chill winds biting at his face stung and every breath of icy air he grudgingly inhaled burned his lungs. Every muscle in his body ached, or at least the ones he could still feel. He longed to be able to collapse in the snow, to lie there and await his fate. He wouldn't have to wait long either. About two minutes, the man estimated. It was very tempting. It was so cold.
The sea of ice and snow stretched out before the man in other circumstances would have been exceptionally beautiful. The pillars and spires of jagged ice, of all different sizes, protruding sharply from the surface, the delicate ice bridges connecting between the pillars, and the way the cold, weak suns rays glinted off the wet, glistening ice, reflecting blindingly back up into the eyes of the man, only increasing his discomfort.
The man trudged on. The scenery never changed, and to the man, the temperature only seemed to drop. Or perhaps, thought the man, that was his body gradually beginning to surrender to the cold and the wind. It seemed he had been walking for days, but that far north, night would not fall for another four months.
The man lifted his head to survey his surroundings. The wind had picked up and it was difficult to see anything through the wild and violent flurry of snow. The world grew colder and darker as the storm around him grew in ferocity, and just when the storm seemed darkest and the man felt like he couldn't walk another step, he saw the light.
Perhaps it was the storm, or just simply his imagination, but the light seemed to be flickering. Filled with a new determination, the man set out in pursuit of the light. He did not know where or what it was, or even that it truly existed outside of his crumbling mind, but he did know that he would not last long out in the storm.
The winds strength continued to increase, and the flurries of snow grew worse. The wind against his face felt like thousands of tiny needles and the pain from the cold was almost overwhelming. Clenching his eyes tightly shut from the external pain, and virtually blinded by the snow with only a flickering light to follow, it was no surprise that the man felt the gate before he saw it.
The gate was smooth and cold, like everything else around it. It was made of thick ice, and with his strength failing, the man struggled to push it. Eventually he managed to create a big enough gap for him to squeeze through. Inside the gate, he looked around. He was in a courtyard, unlike anything he had ever seen. A large dome loomed up in front of him, made entirely from ice. At its rounded top, stood a tall tower, also made of ice, and at its top was the orange light that he had been following. Surrounding the house was a thick ice wall, almost two metres high. It blocked most of the wind and the man was surprised to find how quiet it was. Directly in front of him, maybe twenty metres away, was a large ice door in the front of the dome. Assuming that this was an entrance, the man made his way towards it quickly, anxious to escape the elements. Tall statues stood guard in the courtyard. They were sinister looking sculptures, each one portraying a large and ferocious looking polar bear. The man did not stop and take time to examine the fine craftsmanship of the statues, but if he had he would have been astonished at the intricate carving, particularly around the mouth and jaws. Each bear had its jaws open and each and every one of its razor sharp teeth was clearly visible. In every eye, the artist had capture a look of pure anger and bloodlust.
The man knocked on the door, but there was no answer. For what seemed an eternity he hammered on the door, yelling until his voice was hoarse. Tired from his march through the snow, he quickly succumbed to fatigue and slumped hopelessly against the door. The last thing he remembered was a sense of despair as his eyelids closed, plunging him into a cold darkness.
He awoke in a soft bed, in a warm room with a bright, flickering fire. At first he was understandably confused. For a moment he thought he must be dead, although he quickly dismissed this idea when he saw the ice walls of the room and assumed he must simply be somewhere withing the building he had found in the storm.
The clothes he had arrived in were missing, as was the contents of his pockets. At the foot of his bed was a long robe which looked like it had been lifted directly out of the 18th century. At first he found this odd, but on a closer inspection of the room found that most of the rooms contents also seemed to be from that time period. The headboard of the bed in which he lay was covered with ornate carvings of gargoyles and in the center, protruding out into the room was a large, beautifully carved head of a polar bear. In its eyes and jaws was all the ferocity that was captured in the statues outside. The desk and wardrobe were made of the same, dark wood as the bed, and they also bore intricate carvings of gargoyles and savage polar bears.
He got out of bed and hurriedly dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for him. Before leaving the room, he stood in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands together in front of the roaring fire. Curiosity overwhelmed him when he examined the fireplace and found it, like the rest of the room to be made of ice. He reached over the fire and felt the back wall of the fireplace. It was still cold and icy and showed no signs of melting from the heat of the fire.
“Curious” said the man to himself, retracting his hand from the fireplace.
He traversed the room and opened the door. The door swung open with a loud groan. The hallway outside was cold and bare. His footsteps reverberated off the icy walls as he set off to find whoever owned the house.
i know noone will but im oosting here anyway so if anybody wants to gimemt heir thoughts, much obliged good sir/madam/hermaphrodite.
It was cold. So very, very cold. The biting wind rushed around him, howling like a wounded animal. It rushed at him, sweeping along the ice, hitting his face and forcing his clothes to press tight into his body. Beyond the seemingly endless sea of ice and snow surrounding him, vision was virtually nonexistent.
There was no feeling left in his hands or feet. The long matted hair and beard was rigid and full of ice, and he could feel icicles clinging to the underside of his nose. His lips were blue and his mouth was iced shut, but he had no need to speak. He was truly and utterly alone in this barren, desolate tundra. He traipsed on in silence, alone and lost, placing one foot in front of the other in what seemed like an endless cycle. He had no destination, but to stop moving was to submit to certain death. To keep moving was to postpone the inevitable.
He was tired now. The chill winds biting at his face stung and every breath of icy air he grudgingly inhaled burned his lungs. Every muscle in his body ached, or at least the ones he could still feel. He longed to be able to collapse in the snow, to lie there and await his fate. He wouldn't have to wait long either. About two minutes, the man estimated. It was very tempting. It was so cold.
The sea of ice and snow stretched out before the man in other circumstances would have been exceptionally beautiful. The pillars and spires of jagged ice, of all different sizes, protruding sharply from the surface, the delicate ice bridges connecting between the pillars, and the way the cold, weak suns rays glinted off the wet, glistening ice, reflecting blindingly back up into the eyes of the man, only increasing his discomfort.
The man trudged on. The scenery never changed, and to the man, the temperature only seemed to drop. Or perhaps, thought the man, that was his body gradually beginning to surrender to the cold and the wind. It seemed he had been walking for days, but that far north, night would not fall for another four months.
The man lifted his head to survey his surroundings. The wind had picked up and it was difficult to see anything through the wild and violent flurry of snow. The world grew colder and darker as the storm around him grew in ferocity, and just when the storm seemed darkest and the man felt like he couldn't walk another step, he saw the light.
Perhaps it was the storm, or just simply his imagination, but the light seemed to be flickering. Filled with a new determination, the man set out in pursuit of the light. He did not know where or what it was, or even that it truly existed outside of his crumbling mind, but he did know that he would not last long out in the storm.
The winds strength continued to increase, and the flurries of snow grew worse. The wind against his face felt like thousands of tiny needles and the pain from the cold was almost overwhelming. Clenching his eyes tightly shut from the external pain, and virtually blinded by the snow with only a flickering light to follow, it was no surprise that the man felt the gate before he saw it.
The gate was smooth and cold, like everything else around it. It was made of thick ice, and with his strength failing, the man struggled to push it. Eventually he managed to create a big enough gap for him to squeeze through. Inside the gate, he looked around. He was in a courtyard, unlike anything he had ever seen. A large dome loomed up in front of him, made entirely from ice. At its rounded top, stood a tall tower, also made of ice, and at its top was the orange light that he had been following. Surrounding the house was a thick ice wall, almost two metres high. It blocked most of the wind and the man was surprised to find how quiet it was. Directly in front of him, maybe twenty metres away, was a large ice door in the front of the dome. Assuming that this was an entrance, the man made his way towards it quickly, anxious to escape the elements. Tall statues stood guard in the courtyard. They were sinister looking sculptures, each one portraying a large and ferocious looking polar bear. The man did not stop and take time to examine the fine craftsmanship of the statues, but if he had he would have been astonished at the intricate carving, particularly around the mouth and jaws. Each bear had its jaws open and each and every one of its razor sharp teeth was clearly visible. In every eye, the artist had capture a look of pure anger and bloodlust.
The man knocked on the door, but there was no answer. For what seemed an eternity he hammered on the door, yelling until his voice was hoarse. Tired from his march through the snow, he quickly succumbed to fatigue and slumped hopelessly against the door. The last thing he remembered was a sense of despair as his eyelids closed, plunging him into a cold darkness.
He awoke in a soft bed, in a warm room with a bright, flickering fire. At first he was understandably confused. For a moment he thought he must be dead, although he quickly dismissed this idea when he saw the ice walls of the room and assumed he must simply be somewhere withing the building he had found in the storm.
The clothes he had arrived in were missing, as was the contents of his pockets. At the foot of his bed was a long robe which looked like it had been lifted directly out of the 18th century. At first he found this odd, but on a closer inspection of the room found that most of the rooms contents also seemed to be from that time period. The headboard of the bed in which he lay was covered with ornate carvings of gargoyles and in the center, protruding out into the room was a large, beautifully carved head of a polar bear. In its eyes and jaws was all the ferocity that was captured in the statues outside. The desk and wardrobe were made of the same, dark wood as the bed, and they also bore intricate carvings of gargoyles and savage polar bears.
He got out of bed and hurriedly dressed in the clothes that had been laid out for him. Before leaving the room, he stood in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands together in front of the roaring fire. Curiosity overwhelmed him when he examined the fireplace and found it, like the rest of the room to be made of ice. He reached over the fire and felt the back wall of the fireplace. It was still cold and icy and showed no signs of melting from the heat of the fire.
“Curious” said the man to himself, retracting his hand from the fireplace.
He traversed the room and opened the door. The door swung open with a loud groan. The hallway outside was cold and bare. His footsteps reverberated off the icy walls as he set off to find whoever owned the house.
Vladimir Lenin
stupid daylight savings. wasted my extra hour blargging (blogging in us accent. oh well. now im tired.
i had pizza forbreakfast/lunch/brunch. in the last 14 hours i have eaten almost 3 whole pizzas. im gonna die young.
my ipod is playing nirvana. like it is playing that song via my ipod, not actually playing nirvana songs. its not that musically talented.
lotsof peopl hate nirvana. im a member of RollingStone and online all people do is bitch about madonna and nirvana and frank sinatra and whatnot.peeople need to get a life.
i hate people who spend all their time arguing on web forums. i spend so long each day arguing with these people ont he net about why they should go outside and get a life. not reeally,that was a bad joke.
now linkin park is playing.
omg on tv was an ad for the australian deaf-people society group thing, and it had a break-dancing deaf guy. i dont know why because ironically i had the tv on mute.
lol for sum reason i just remembered pruzes secret code in yr 7. maS2la. lol he was heaps cool. now coldplay is playing. my music is ecclectic at best.or worst. i dunno.
i serously seriously doubt anybody is really gonna read this. SERIOUSLY. if i just keep saying 'seriously' i sound like a) channel 10 or b) sophie lim.
i had pizza forbreakfast/lunch/brunch. in the last 14 hours i have eaten almost 3 whole pizzas. im gonna die young.
my ipod is playing nirvana. like it is playing that song via my ipod, not actually playing nirvana songs. its not that musically talented.
lotsof peopl hate nirvana. im a member of RollingStone and online all people do is bitch about madonna and nirvana and frank sinatra and whatnot.peeople need to get a life.
i hate people who spend all their time arguing on web forums. i spend so long each day arguing with these people ont he net about why they should go outside and get a life. not reeally,that was a bad joke.
now linkin park is playing.
omg on tv was an ad for the australian deaf-people society group thing, and it had a break-dancing deaf guy. i dont know why because ironically i had the tv on mute.
lol for sum reason i just remembered pruzes secret code in yr 7. maS2la. lol he was heaps cool. now coldplay is playing. my music is ecclectic at best.or worst. i dunno.
i serously seriously doubt anybody is really gonna read this. SERIOUSLY. if i just keep saying 'seriously' i sound like a) channel 10 or b) sophie lim.
funny fairy floss fcatches on fire
lol at interact. they had a fairy floss stall and both the fairy floss machines caught on fire.
maybe theyll think twice about trying to help other people.
actually i really hope the money was supposed to go to bushfire appeal vitims. there wiuld be so much irony i could eat it with a fork. well not really, irony is a literical tool. a definition of irony is "the use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning" i looked it up coz im a cool person like that
maybe theyll think twice about trying to help other people.
actually i really hope the money was supposed to go to bushfire appeal vitims. there wiuld be so much irony i could eat it with a fork. well not really, irony is a literical tool. a definition of irony is "the use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning" i looked it up coz im a cool person like that
lol hitler
Gas Chambers, Sheep and Hitlers Testicles
dam right bitchez, i gto me a supersoaker.
ill supersoak yo ass. Yeah im black. dont hold it against me racists
you know whos racist? stephen pham. but good kinda racist. like, 'wants to have a breakfast show on channel nine called "breakfasts with adolf hitler (and friends)"' kinda racist. funny kid
hitler was weird. he was born in austria
fucking austrians
start of every fucking war. fucking austrians
how many balls did hitler have? ive heard so many stories about he had either 1 or 3 nuts, and im jsut like, wtf?
wat are the odds that hitler would have 3 nuts?
does that mean he has liek, ultra-sperm? flying, x-ray vison, super strong, vulnerable to kryptonite sperm, with gianst 'S's on their... where would the s go on a sperm? they only really have a head and a tail. ironically they onyl come when you get head or tail.
but off the topic of hitlers ball sack and super-sperm, the nazis were fuckheads. ok maybe not that off topic but im not talking about hitlers testicles anymore... well now i am
but seriously, those nazis loved rabbits and deer. all nazis had to carry bells on them in forests to scare away animals so the nazis wouldnt have to shoot them. you know, instead of just simply not shooting the cute little rabbits, or draggin the deer off to concentration camps and gassing them.
you know who else loves animals?
new zealanders.
i have a theory which combines both love of animals and hitlers testicles. here goes.
hitler was actually a kiwi. he had his 3 balls because all kiwis do, they just hide them by learning to suck them up-inside their body if somebody is looking. anyway these extra testicles make them extra horny, hence their need to reproduce. many years ago, when homo sapiens and neanderthals roamed the earth, primitive, 3-testicled ancestors of the kiwis almost wiped out humans by being so horny and breeding with all their women, so the gods decided that the kiwis had to be stopped. they picked up all the new zealanders and put them in new zealand where they wouldnt hurt anybody else. very quickly, the horny new zealanders had bred so much that new zealand was crowded (like worse than asia) and they were begining to try and swim over to the rest of the world, so the gods introduced sheep to new zealand. with both women and sheep to breed with, the kiwi population reduced back to a tolerable level, while the number of half kiwi, half sheep babies rose dramatically.
whether or not kiwis still have 3 balls is unclear because they could just be still breeding for sheep out of habbit.
one final point, a product made in austrlia is "an australian product". What is a product made in new zealand?
dam right bitchez, i gto me a supersoaker.
ill supersoak yo ass. Yeah im black. dont hold it against me racists
you know whos racist? stephen pham. but good kinda racist. like, 'wants to have a breakfast show on channel nine called "breakfasts with adolf hitler (and friends)"' kinda racist. funny kid
hitler was weird. he was born in austria
fucking austrians
start of every fucking war. fucking austrians
how many balls did hitler have? ive heard so many stories about he had either 1 or 3 nuts, and im jsut like, wtf?
wat are the odds that hitler would have 3 nuts?
does that mean he has liek, ultra-sperm? flying, x-ray vison, super strong, vulnerable to kryptonite sperm, with gianst 'S's on their... where would the s go on a sperm? they only really have a head and a tail. ironically they onyl come when you get head or tail.
but off the topic of hitlers ball sack and super-sperm, the nazis were fuckheads. ok maybe not that off topic but im not talking about hitlers testicles anymore... well now i am
but seriously, those nazis loved rabbits and deer. all nazis had to carry bells on them in forests to scare away animals so the nazis wouldnt have to shoot them. you know, instead of just simply not shooting the cute little rabbits, or draggin the deer off to concentration camps and gassing them.
you know who else loves animals?
new zealanders.
i have a theory which combines both love of animals and hitlers testicles. here goes.
hitler was actually a kiwi. he had his 3 balls because all kiwis do, they just hide them by learning to suck them up-inside their body if somebody is looking. anyway these extra testicles make them extra horny, hence their need to reproduce. many years ago, when homo sapiens and neanderthals roamed the earth, primitive, 3-testicled ancestors of the kiwis almost wiped out humans by being so horny and breeding with all their women, so the gods decided that the kiwis had to be stopped. they picked up all the new zealanders and put them in new zealand where they wouldnt hurt anybody else. very quickly, the horny new zealanders had bred so much that new zealand was crowded (like worse than asia) and they were begining to try and swim over to the rest of the world, so the gods introduced sheep to new zealand. with both women and sheep to breed with, the kiwi population reduced back to a tolerable level, while the number of half kiwi, half sheep babies rose dramatically.
whether or not kiwis still have 3 balls is unclear because they could just be still breeding for sheep out of habbit.
one final point, a product made in austrlia is "an australian product". What is a product made in new zealand?
Popping The Blog Cherry
ok so heres the dealio
ive got a blog that noone knows about, so i thought id be cool and do what everyone was doing 6 months ago and start clogging for everyone...
goddam
i hate my comp. i spend more time trying to fix y the screen has suddenly made everything green than i do watching porn. itd be heaps easier if blogger had a spellcheck button...does it? no it dosnt. i just checked.
but yeah my computer is old. like not just old, but like if it were a person, it would be riding around in one of those electric seat with wheels or it would be dead. old people and technology should not mix man, particularily old dead people.
right now in this weekes tipping im '-1 for 4'. like that would only happen to me and my amazing sporting prowess.
also back on the subject of my computer the clock is broken down the bottom, every time i turn it off then on, the clock goes forward or back an hour. like theres not even a system to it, just sometimes it goes forward, sometimes it goes back. so i jsut dont turn it off anymore coz its easer than having to occasinally fix the clock, or just look at the 3 other clocks scattered around my room.
now i have to go fix those clocks as well on account of daylight savings. i get an extra hour to sleep which im wasting blogging about how its gonna get dark earlier and how that makes me mad.
coz its daylight savings its gonna get dark earlier. that makes me mad.
maybe i just wont change the clocks and just deal with it. ill just have to change em back in 6 months anywya. im really lazy. my dads gone through like 2 gear boxes in his car since i started driving just coz im to lazy to shift gears if im just gonna have to shift em again soon. lol expensive.
ive got a blog that noone knows about, so i thought id be cool and do what everyone was doing 6 months ago and start clogging for everyone...
goddam
i hate my comp. i spend more time trying to fix y the screen has suddenly made everything green than i do watching porn. itd be heaps easier if blogger had a spellcheck button...does it? no it dosnt. i just checked.
but yeah my computer is old. like not just old, but like if it were a person, it would be riding around in one of those electric seat with wheels or it would be dead. old people and technology should not mix man, particularily old dead people.
right now in this weekes tipping im '-1 for 4'. like that would only happen to me and my amazing sporting prowess.
also back on the subject of my computer the clock is broken down the bottom, every time i turn it off then on, the clock goes forward or back an hour. like theres not even a system to it, just sometimes it goes forward, sometimes it goes back. so i jsut dont turn it off anymore coz its easer than having to occasinally fix the clock, or just look at the 3 other clocks scattered around my room.
now i have to go fix those clocks as well on account of daylight savings. i get an extra hour to sleep which im wasting blogging about how its gonna get dark earlier and how that makes me mad.
coz its daylight savings its gonna get dark earlier. that makes me mad.
maybe i just wont change the clocks and just deal with it. ill just have to change em back in 6 months anywya. im really lazy. my dads gone through like 2 gear boxes in his car since i started driving just coz im to lazy to shift gears if im just gonna have to shift em again soon. lol expensive.
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