y halo thar.
long time no see, etc etc.
okay. Life is much the same as it was.. a month and a half ago?
hm. Intro Apps is still boring. I still fuck around. We have a new teacher or sommat (Mr.Conkin LOL) but other than that, tis same old.
36 minutes left in this class mang. :/
It's rather sad, as today I don't have much to write. But the title is coolio. I PRESS ENTER
A
LOT
idk. productive blogging is boring. Oh here's one.
okay, it looks like on Tuesday, three friends and I are going to perform for something called 'No Violence Day'. by perform i mean play in a band. but yeah. this could crash and burn, or it could crash and not burn, or it could be partially successful.
but yeeeeeeeees.
here's to hoping we don't suck.
g'day.
28 minutes left. WOOOO !
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
in liek a lionz
^it's something about spring, that's all i can remember.
in like a lion, out like a lamb? yeah, that.
okay. first topic of today, ATRT. Or, for you already-able-to-type individuals, it's All The Right Type. You've probably used this program sometime in your life. Maybe as a kid. Perhaps in elementary. Or damned to it in high school.
It. is. lame.
Honestly, it's messed up. Practice Pavillon? Word Processing Plaza? what the fuck. I don't want to type.
okay uh. topic two. i didn't really think ahead for one.
I'm pretty sure i've talked enough of how ICA sucks. Some just enjoy my suffering. WELL FOR YOUR FUCKING INFORMATION I DON'T TYPE JJJ'S ANYMORE. THAT'S RIGHT.
it's more along the lines of
dad sees U. U see dad.
YEAAAAAH
but yeah. science is hard. english is hard. shit there's a story or sommat due tomorrow. ohmygooooood i need to think of one, like right now. if I can manage a half-shitty story by today, I'll post it later.
I'm Feeling Lucky?
this post was done in BOLD.
in like a lion, out like a lamb? yeah, that.
okay. first topic of today, ATRT. Or, for you already-able-to-type individuals, it's All The Right Type. You've probably used this program sometime in your life. Maybe as a kid. Perhaps in elementary. Or damned to it in high school.
It. is. lame.
Honestly, it's messed up. Practice Pavillon? Word Processing Plaza? what the fuck. I don't want to type.
okay uh. topic two. i didn't really think ahead for one.
I'm pretty sure i've talked enough of how ICA sucks. Some just enjoy my suffering. WELL FOR YOUR FUCKING INFORMATION I DON'T TYPE JJJ'S ANYMORE. THAT'S RIGHT.
it's more along the lines of
dad sees U. U see dad.
YEAAAAAH
but yeah. science is hard. english is hard. shit there's a story or sommat due tomorrow. ohmygooooood i need to think of one, like right now. if I can manage a half-shitty story by today, I'll post it later.
I'm Feeling Lucky?
this post was done in BOLD.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
fuck ICA thoughts.
D:
it seems like i only post here on block A's lolwtf.
as like, a pasttime because this class is so shitty. and if i i bothered to notify the teacher of this class' shittiness, she would probably just tell me to transfer. which is too much work, and i swear to god my counsellor is mentally disabled. actually; that gives me a story idea. okay. with stepnotes. ohhmygoood.
Ms. L. Finbogasomething was born on the eve of a cloudy evening, and her mother died whenst* giving birth. But it was not such a sad event that Lame's mother had died; as she had been a cannibal and would have most likely gorged herself on her daughter, like she had of her last 2.3 children.
But it was okay. Lame was a survivor. A hell of a survivor.
She didn't even fucking care that she was both a man and a woman. There really isn't much time to, when you set out to survive.`
Lame was set. She had scraped by school, buying an online certificate that stated she had passed both elementary and secondary education. Which was in fact false.
Hell, it didn't matter anyways. She had a profession in panhandling, and was one of the best. Her list of begging talents included: crying, bawling, begging, bribing, and hangingontoankles.
Life would have been good. It would've been easy.
But then. DISASTER struck.
While she was asleep, one of her panhandling 'friends' came and attacked her hair. and they dyed it pink. pink.
that was the ultimate-est sinning of the sins. It was the color of the devil's devil son's daughter's devilry. It was, in short, the color of the devil.
She was no longer accepted, being an agent of sin. No matter what she did, or what she tried, she was looked down upon not as a person but as a thing^.
Lame had nowhere to go. She had no profession. No box. No friends/.
So she decided to follow the same sort of path as her former homosexual acquaintance, Bill.
Except she had different motives. She wanted a job where she could just make false promises, and screw up. So she became a counsellor. And to this very day, she sits in her chair, always coming short when the students assigned to her make a request of any sort.
--------------------------------------------------------------
*: i do not believe whenst is a word.
': sure, the thoughts came up occasionally, but Lame always shoved them down.
^: they made the point so many times that even she began to think of herself as an animal.
/: not that she had ever had any to begin with.
step notes are coo. i pretty much got the idea from john green, but yeah. I can't exactly number them with a keyboard, and i have a finite number of available symbols. fuck.
it seems like i only post here on block A's lolwtf.
as like, a pasttime because this class is so shitty. and if i i bothered to notify the teacher of this class' shittiness, she would probably just tell me to transfer. which is too much work, and i swear to god my counsellor is mentally disabled. actually; that gives me a story idea. okay. with stepnotes. ohhmygoood.
Ms. L. Finbogasomething was born on the eve of a cloudy evening, and her mother died whenst* giving birth. But it was not such a sad event that Lame's mother had died; as she had been a cannibal and would have most likely gorged herself on her daughter, like she had of her last 2.3 children.
But it was okay. Lame was a survivor. A hell of a survivor.
She didn't even fucking care that she was both a man and a woman. There really isn't much time to, when you set out to survive.`
Lame was set. She had scraped by school, buying an online certificate that stated she had passed both elementary and secondary education. Which was in fact false.
Hell, it didn't matter anyways. She had a profession in panhandling, and was one of the best. Her list of begging talents included: crying, bawling, begging, bribing, and hangingontoankles.
Life would have been good. It would've been easy.
But then. DISASTER struck.
While she was asleep, one of her panhandling 'friends' came and attacked her hair. and they dyed it pink. pink.
that was the ultimate-est sinning of the sins. It was the color of the devil's devil son's daughter's devilry. It was, in short, the color of the devil.
She was no longer accepted, being an agent of sin. No matter what she did, or what she tried, she was looked down upon not as a person but as a thing^.
Lame had nowhere to go. She had no profession. No box. No friends/.
So she decided to follow the same sort of path as her former homosexual acquaintance, Bill.
Except she had different motives. She wanted a job where she could just make false promises, and screw up. So she became a counsellor. And to this very day, she sits in her chair, always coming short when the students assigned to her make a request of any sort.
--------------------------------------------------------------
*: i do not believe whenst is a word.
': sure, the thoughts came up occasionally, but Lame always shoved them down.
^: they made the point so many times that even she began to think of herself as an animal.
/: not that she had ever had any to begin with.
step notes are coo. i pretty much got the idea from john green, but yeah. I can't exactly number them with a keyboard, and i have a finite number of available symbols. fuck.
Monday, February 22, 2010
ICA thoughts. pt2. fuck.
a typing zombie i have become
lo and behold there is almost none
that i cannot type for i have been built
to do nothing more than type and then wilt
however that is where my specialty ends
give me a ball and make me bend
i will be cracked and i will soon be dead
it is true my friends
this is what i have become
doomed forever to type words like 'sum'
and now i lose focus, i slowly slip
into a haze
of typing bliss
lo and behold there is almost none
that i cannot type for i have been built
to do nothing more than type and then wilt
however that is where my specialty ends
give me a ball and make me bend
i will be cracked and i will soon be dead
it is true my friends
this is what i have become
doomed forever to type words like 'sum'
and now i lose focus, i slowly slip
into a haze
of typing bliss
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