9:48 p. m. » Special Guest

twox2nasty4U: It was my friend Daniels birthday today, so they decided to have a birthday dinner and drink at my bar/resaurant although when they got there food was no longer being served, I informed my inferior indian cohorts of there arival 2 hours prior. They simply nodded and carried about there bussiness. So needless to say the food could not be provided. 3 hours prior i started drinking with my new waitor/friend Elmo, his compadres came in and i decided to take a few hours off, while he pretended to be the bar tender i took the opportunity to get shit faced. when the birthday party arived it was already to late. After i closed the bar me and the birthday collective decided to hit up another favorite watering hole. The group was extremely generous... Thus the drinking continued. A man swore he would kill me unless he recieved a doss of metal luckly i had my Ipod..... its not the first time Slayer has saved my life. In many ways slayer has saved my life i guided me through troubled time and im not talking about
twox2nasty4U: the lyrics folks. I guess i cant fully describe the power of slayer in one blog. I will go off on a more conclusive slayer tangent where the full power will be exposed in a later date. after the second bar we hit up another, the group remained generous. After the 2nd bar besides my own (totaly doesnt count) we hit up an after bar at my friend jimmys house. I banded together with two other friends who are all mutual acquantences with each other and set off to jimmy the militant hippys house. we followed a gigantic chevey truck through the night droping off various other militant hippys (dripping vomit off there hemp necklaces) at various points about the south west area. the fellowship of mutual acquantences soon fell apart after a barage of bad music. when asked if (this shit really jams or what) all hell broke lose. We made swift exit. lives where spared. lives were ruined. Are souls made it intact to the original parking lot where are cars were stowed. We said our good bys and i set out for t
twox2nasty4U: he nearest gas station that wasnt quick trip. I found a conoco. Had the best damn gas station food ever........... mmmmmm........ This is where it all started. where i found my self at home i stumbled in drunk as a skunk like Edd MCman. made it half way up to my room and the noticed i felt i little bit lighter...... Where was my Ipod........ Where was my cell phone......I know i should have been thinking about a dozen things did i offend my friend jimmy.... DID i offend my other friends for bringing them in proximity with Jimmy. How am i going to get to Milwaukee tomorow. Why isnt Sarah Byron responding to me. none of it mattered where were my preciouses. Both are essencial but i need my sleep and turning around 3/4 of the way to my bed only spells disaster. But what if i left my phone in the bar, I cant afford to lose all my numbers again... and what if my Ipod is there too you know the bartenders will steal it.... Fuck i would. i couldnt sleep with out a clear consince so 3/4 to my bed i turned aro
twox2nasty4U: und piss drunk and ran into my car..... only to find out both siting in my passenger seat. It had all be a false alarm. but that just goes to show.... I care more about my machines then all Y'all. Go fuck yourselves.
twox2nasty4U: im not going to post it you should post it on your blog

---
Character Profile

About me:
I guess im riding on an epiphany right now, ive never been very good at writing about myself, but it seems more clear to me now then ever before. My computer keeps shuting down as im writing this so maybe its god telling me that i shouldnt be writing this. Honestly i really dont know that much about myself, but from what ive gathered in my 21 one years of existance is that im pretty senistive or at least thats what ive been led to beleave or what my friends have tried to tell me. In this day and age i guess thats pretty convienant, or its seems to me at least that the sensitive type is generally accepted here on myspace or the internet or whatever. Maybe one day i will expliot that. I have been very sheltered my entire life and have often found myself in denial about it, for instance when I graduated from highschool ( which i didnt) i was presented with a new car from my father, much to many of my friends dismay. I often found myself defening myself for being so privalegedged, saying things like " you think its that easy, well ive went through more then you might think" this is not the truth unfortunately. my expiriences have been no different from any other teenager coming of age. I was just lucky enough to have a familly that provided for me so generously in leu of my failure. Even after the unfair advantage ive been given i have still found ways to fail again and again in areas where me peers succeed. Many people may see me as a spoiled brat, a boy who has never worked a real day in his life. Im sure to a certain extent this is true. I also like kittens ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ you know i was never really sure why I had a my space account. I kept telling myself it was to keep in conntact with old friends and discover friends that i had lost contact with. Then one day at work it dawned on me its not about friends at all, my sould purpose is to shatter the spirits and riddicule delusional teenage girls that i come across in my journey across the digital waste land which is myspace

Whom I'd like to meet:
if your are 13 to 19 years old and, enjoy "emo" "goth" or "punk" music, you hate yourself, are depressed, are best friends with some one you met online, like boys in womens pants, can count the your suicide attempts on more then one hand, purposely leave a bandana hanging out of your back pocket, are in question about your sexuality, cut yourself, use acronims like lol or jk or even rolf, take medication on a daily basis, frequently shop at hot topic or still think the jnco's are the shit, spend more then an hour on your hair like doing up your mo hawk or your faux hawk or any kind of spikey stuff to get "that edgy punk look" have any piece of clothing with the word "fuck" boldy displayed, are a really fat goth kid, have an infatuation with bam margera, there is a pentagram somewhere on you at all times, have a screen name with the words love, kiss, slit throat, death,dying, dead, bleed and or hate, isotope, cold, fuck or fucking, slut, influenza and not excluding rape, knives or knife, lonely, black, kickstand and nine volt. If you fit the description above drop me a line <3!


---
Credits

Instant Messenger Conversation: StripXHerXDown
Profile: MySpace

2:44 a. m. » Your Leash Is Too Long

I've met a woman from Pakistan who, in addition to removing her glasses any time a male is in her presence, allows herself to find thatself in an almost ungraspable situation. Her husband lives, at this moment, in a prison for the usage or dealing of what I believe may have been methamphetamines. The man's also in possession of a colorful history, two highlights of which include, one: whoring his penis off to an oral encounter with another male for a hefty twenty dollars of filthy drug money, and, two: having, somewhere in society's circulation since 1999, a bastard child about (he'd married the woman in discussion in 1997 -- this piece of trivia was first offered to her not weeks ago by social services). She was showing me pictures of their wedding, asking if such (described above) homoerotic transactions were common in our culture, and wondering if I thought she should leave the man. She moved on to tell me that she had another love interest residing in Colorado anyway, and even played a message he'd left on her answering machine, wanting to know what I thought of him. I don't think I said it aloud, but never in my life had my ears been exposed to a thirty seconds even remotely as disturbing as those. It sounded as though this man was reciting his love for her through a clap-encrusted trach-ring -- they were the raspiest, dirtiest, most foul and horridly accented "I love you"s that'd ever had the misfortune of finding their way out of any human being's mouth -- ever. I couldn't help it, I finally broke down and asked what the fuck was wrong with his God-damned voice, and after no hesitation, but with a large, possibly proud, grin across her face, she explained that his ex-wife's lover had choked him and destroyed the usability of his vocal chords. I think it was about then when her neighbors came over and made fun of her yeast infection right in front of me again.

4:43 p. m. » The Grass Is Dead. The Gold Is Brown.

A friend told me that he'd no longer consider himself so if I were to pursue a specific female who'd expressed an amount of interest in me. This girl, on probation for battering an ex-boyfriend, several days later punched this friend in the nose and later fell down the stairs. Her persistently trying to seduce me was flattery. Sadly for her, I was convinced that denying her that was at least twice as amusing as actually entertaining that which she sought -- not that it, itself was anything but a shadow and a thought*. I've taken up the drinking of red wine -- not because I'm depressed (Christ knows there's nothing depressing here), but because it makes the pain of that with which I've decided to surround myself such an easier experience to endure. This is costing me my soul. Everyday I awake with a new scratch, bruise, pain, bleed, or scrape. It's the temporary life I've always dreamt of leading.

*Total ROTK cred.

3:14 p. m. » Day 54

I've just accomplished the consumption of ten hot dogs within a 24 hour period. It's an awesomely disgusting feat for a person who finds this kind of food revolting.