Something Boody This Way Comes

New post to come this Saturday, my sincerest appy-polly-logies team buckmisterwhatever. To help appease the pain and dry those tears:




P.S. I'm not sure why the video is exploding off the page. I got a D+ in my programming class, even though that really means nothing since this has to do with html. I guess I just wanted to inform you all. All I know is that I'd rather be playing Okami than fixing it, so if anyone wants to do something about that, yeah have fun.

~Thom Boody

I don't know if any of you noticed, but I think it may have snowed a little the other day.

This is my house right now.

I'm just kidding, this isn't actually my house, considering yesterday I wasn't even sure I still had a house, except for the fact that I was inside it. The wind was so loud that my questioning the reality that was my house was totally warranted. Is anyone else snowed in right now?? ;_;

_______________________________________________________________

Headline-wise it's been a fairly slow Monday, except that Hugh Hefner is engaged, yet again. The owner of the Playboy Mansion posted on his twitter page that he had given his wife-to-be Crystal Harris a ring for Christmas, then later confirmed it was indeed an engagement ring.

I'm purposefully making my opinion on this topic unknown.

There are many people in the world who think that that is a little strange, who will remain un-named but are mostly me.

________________________________________________________

I just saw this page on Yahoo! that features their opinion on the best and worst movie posters of 2010. I think it is dead on, so I figured I would share it with you. http://movies.yahoo.com/photos/collections/gallery/3140/the-best-and-worst-movie-posters-of-2010#photo20. This is a funny ass collection of posters, and the comments are really great. If anyone has anything to add, the blog team and I are going to start to highlight the best parts of 2010, over the course of the time between today and New Year's. Enjoy, all!

Hipster.

What the hell have I been doing for the past few days??

Oh that's right, I've been slowly being sick to death. This is Amy's about me. P.S.- She thinks she's the most serious...if you've read 'the NASCAR post'...you'll agree she is not.

This is where I tell everyone about myself, ya? Okay, so I’m Amy and I’ll be your hipster this evening. I know, I know. The first rule of hipsters is you don’t call yourself a hipster. The thing is, I know there's indisputable proof for being one and hipsters just don't want to be hipsters because "hipster" gets a bad rep. I dress like a thrift store threw up on me, I have one of those bitchin’ fur hats with the ear flaps, I like obscure photos of strange things, I’d save my record collection before myself in a fire, you take one look at me and go “I bet that chick would call my favorite band ‘mainstream’ and say it sucks”. That assumption isn’t too far off, actually. For a while I didn’t listen to a band because I deemed them ‘mainstream’. But, you see reader, I’m also part dude. I LOVE football, paintball, skateboarding, video games such as Halo and CoD, and my favorite movies are Fight Club and V for Vendetta. All real action-y shit. I also have a lot more than just a girl crush on Katy Perry. But, wait, there’s more! I like to sing, dance, act, and play guitar/piano and I am obsessed with Marine Biology. I mean obsessed. Yeah, that’s about it. And so, I guess we’ve come to the point where I tell you what I’ll be contributing. I’m going to be criticizing pop-culture (with concentrations in music and fashion). But, I mean REALLY criticizing, like a critic. I’m going to take things and dissect them, not always in a bad way. If I think an album is good or I like a designer’s new line, I’ll tell you. My guess is I’ll be the most serious one here, but I’ll try to inject some humor into my dull seriousness.

Stay classy, readers, because I sure as hell am not.

Just a word of advice.

If you're going to say anything aloud to an empty room, please make sure the room is actually empty before you say it.

My friends left me alone in a room for about 10 minutes, which was fine until I started getting lonely. I thought they were all upstairs so I said aloud "Everybody betray me! I fed up with this world!" From the doorway, I hear "I'm right here, you know..." and one friend is standing right ouside the door. I still have no idea how to explain the fact that I was talking to myself (I showed him The Room clip, but I feel like it didn't justify talking to myself.
Anyway, just make sure you're really alone before you say things to yourself.

Stay classy.

Evan's NASCAR piece. God help us all

NASCAR’S 2010 Season Comes To a Close

            So it was an interesting, yet disappointing season once again. Jimmie Johnson won his fifth straight championship, and I have lost all respect for him because I am getting sick of him winning and Jeff Gordon having another winless season. Jeff and Jimmie are part of the same team, in the same shop, and Jeff’s car was never like Jimmies car, and when it came to the end of the season, the pit crews got switched, which didn’t help Jeff’s team any, but helped Jimmie win another championship. With 3 races left in the season, Jeff Gordon got wrecked by Jeff Burton at Texas Motor Speedway. After the intentional wreck, punches were thrown and Jeff Gordon shoved Burton into the inside wall. After the wreck, Jimmie Johnson’s crew chief Chad Knaus knew that Jeff Gordon was no longer in contention for the championship, and decided that his pit crew was not as good as Jeff Gordon’s pit crew. A few minutes later, the teams would swap pit crews, and 3 races later, Jimmie would go on to win another championship. THANKS JEFF BURTON! I HATE YOU! If you hadn’t wrecked Jeff Gordon, the pit crew swap wouldn’t have happened, and Jimmie would not have won the championship.

            After the end of the season, Team Hendrick racing owner Rick Hendrick decided  changes needed to be made. Instead of Jimmie and Jeff being in the same garage, Jeff will now be in the same garage as Mark Martins team, and Dale Earnhardt Jr. will be in the same garage as Jimmie Johnson, which should help improve Junior’s team overall, after a very disappointing season. In addition to garage swaps, crew chiefs were swapped too. Jeff Gordon’s crew chief for the past 6 years, Steve Letarte, will now be Mark Martin’s crew chief. Mark Martins crew chief Alan Gustafson will now be Jeff Gordon’s crew chief, and Dale Junior’s new crew chief will be Lance McGrew, who was a temporary crew chief for Jeff Gordon in the past, replacing Letarte during a temporary suspension back in 2008. Hopefully this will result in a better season in 2011.

Hipster. 

The fun will begin later today. I promise. Unfortunately this is being posted late because of a whaling museum mishap. Someone ask Richard about it, his response will be amazing, I promise.

oh hai guys pt 1

This is me, Amy, trying to figure out how this damn site works because I'm too hipster to use it regularly. I trust my thoughts to "tumblr", which you've probably never heard of (don't make one, guys. it gives your computer a virus, such a bad addiction).
Pat should be posting my "about me" soon...hopefully. And when that happens, everything should be explained...

Stay classy.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.

Think Geek.com is at it again, and we have just seen the be all end all toaster of the universe. IT MAKES TOAST WITH DARTH VADER'S FACE ON IT. Don't believe me??? Look for yourself. http://www.thinkgeek.com/gadgets/electronic/e72b/

Hipster.

Weekend regrouping is almost over, y'all.

Alright guys, get ready for a Great Monday. I'm sure I just made your Sunday better by bringing you that joke....there is really no such thing as a Great Monday. Maybe great....but not Great. Here is a lineup for Monday and Tuesday. On Monday Evan will write an informative piece about the end of the Nascar season, that will reflect his descriptive writing ability, as already shown in his intro post http://americasfavoriteallotrope.blogspot.com/2010/12/about-me.html . On Tuesday, the rest of us will get together and write about Nascar, in a way that thoroughly undermines the purpose of the sport, and we will do it because we can. Note that as a trend, we do a lot of things around here simply because we can. It's called college.

Don't look now, but on Wednesday we'll be posting some cool random Flapjack videos.

No, seriously, don't look now. Today is Sunday, genius.

Hipster and stay un-rhymed.

An Attempt at Cleverness

-----Prelude-----

It is said that first impressions are base of every social relationship you may or may not have because of it. Right now, you are silently judging every word I so painstakingly conjure up, looking for any reason to dismiss my credibility as an even remotely like-able human being (unless you already know me, in which case you either love me, think I'm okay, or hate me with a passion that can only be described through some form of low groan since I now have a blog.)

So to take some of the pressure of having you, my beloved reader, attempt to gaze into the depths of my immortal soul, looking for any single one character flaw to tear out and expose to the Internet world as a reason why I should be burned at the stake and then repeatedly shot at, as to make my mutilated, burning carcass look like something that even Kafka would have a hard time describing, here's pretty much the reason why I am trying so damn hard right now to impress you all. I hope that I placate you with my attempt at cleverness.

"SOMEBODY LOVE ME PLEASE."

-----The Story-----


This story begins like many others, I once met a "girl" (who for the sake of preserving her unfortunate identity I will refer to as Sasquatch. ((also, (((Is what I'm doing right here even grammatically correct?))) I put "girl" in little quoties because she is, to put it quite nicely, just a general monstrosity)) ) at a party. At this event, both Sasquatch and I had something very much in common. We both knew not a single person there (as evidence I had gathered lead me to the conclusion that my friends who brought me went off to have sex in the seat which I later had the privilege of sitting in.)

Throughout this party, both Sasquatch and I separately made the rounds, attempting to appease the unforgiving social gods, until our destinies had become intertwined.

Overall I must say Sasquatch didn't leave me with much to form a true first impression. She was rather... Sasquatch-ish is all I can really say honestly, my attempts at describing would be moot, for that single word defines this person so perfectly.

So I suppose that first impressions sometimes aren't the most important thing in the world, and I would have to spend much time to get to know this person, learn all her quirks, qualms, flaws, and know what makes her tick. I'd likely spend months, perhaps years knowing what it is to be Sasquatch, and there-by gaining a knew level of understanding of her. And then after that, who knows. Perhaps I would be able to see beyond her Sasquatch-ness, and see the true beauty of her essence behind that rather harsh exterior, and learn to love the awkward beast for what she really was; some sort of elegant, beautiful aquatic bird-thing. Then we'd get married and experience not a perfect marriage, but a true and real one, filled with struggles, conflict and hardship, that we'd always some how find someway to make it through, which would make it all the more beautiful.

Wrong.

Because as Sasquatch turned to leave me to congregate with the other party-goers, What I saw, no experienced hit me like a Mormon beating the fear and love of God into his son. It was a scene of unfathomable inhumanity; as if it were the very face of evil itself, which had reared its ugly head to look up only at me. What I saw still to this day, is seared into the darkest, damned corner of my unconscious, keeps me up at nights, and makes me question the universe for allowing such a terrible, truly sickening atrocity to ever exist, even momentarily.

Sasquatch shit her pants.

And when I say, shit her pants, I mean that this was no ordinary shitting of the pants, for that would be practically unnoticeable. No. It was as if her asshole was Mount Vesuvius, continuously (yes, continuously) spewing out its volcanic doom while we, the people of Pompeii, would be helplessly petrified in the wake of unimaginable horror of the excrement creeping out from the depths of her surprisingly short jean shorts, (I'm still not quite sure how a Sasquatch gets off wearing those,) and scraping down the sides of her inner thighs much like Tim Curry in Ferngully. And in case you don't know what I'm referring to:




Now I think I can safely say that this is the absolute pinnacle of the worst possible things that could happen to you in any given situation. And I'd also imagine the second that such a thing took place, and it hit you that it was actually happening and not some terrible comedy movie plot device, you would flee the scene of the crime, clear the area so not even CSI could find any evidence that you completely messed yourself, and pray to every single god, deity and person ever in existence that nobody noticed.

Well apparently we are not like Sasquatch. Oh no. She basked in it. For hours. It didn't even effect or hinder her in the slightest, it was actually as if she was at home in a growing pool of her own not so solid, mostly liquidous feces. Sasquatch was clearly some sort of swamp creature, and the bog of deification that she wallowed in was just her natural habitat. A single tear would drip down the unwashed face of Diogenes, for not even he, could reach that level of hygienic apathy.

"I'd still tap that."

I turned my intentions completely from trying to convince every single person at the party that I was the shit, and instead to observing the fact that she had (and do excuse the terrible pun) literally had become just that in the most twisted, un-holy sense of the word.

There was no excuse I could find for her, no matter how hard I tried, and I really did. I wanted to give her any benefit of the doubt I could find. She was not inebriated even slightly; she hadn't touched a single beer. Her pants weren't baggy; they clung to her buttocks forming a denim, cellulite and diarrhea sandwich. She didn't even try to hide it; she was wearing her brown matter matter proudly, something I would respect if it wasn't so fucking disgusting.

Now in this situation, someone like I, who doesn't drink, is a gentlemen and a scholar, you assume would speak to a close friend of hers, tell her as delicately as possible that her friend had cleansed her colon, but soiled her undergarments, pants and dignity in the process. And then that good friend of hers would take her aside, give her a few hundred dollars in un-marked bills and tell her it would probably be in her best interest if she jumped the border and plead for political asylum.

Of course if you assumed this, you are completely wrong, because me being like any other attention seeking crack-whore, who can only thrive when the acceptance and praise of my peers are coursing through my veins, simply approached a very drunk party-goer, and said:
"Dude, I think that girl shit her pants."

-----Afterword-----

For the rest of the night, I was treated as if I were a king from a foreign land. I am now a subject of legend and mythology in the town of Islip, and my popularity amongst the Islip Clan is almost unprecedented, all because I was the first to point out the glaringly obvious (or perhaps just the only person dick enough to do such a thing.)

Sasquatch had also become the stuff of legend, and in fact a legend greater than I could ever hope to become. But not the kind of legend any sane person would want to become. The tale of Sasquatch is known by every single one of my friends, every single person in Islip, and the story is only spreading. I kid you not when I say you can mention this girl's name to anyone in that town and they will say verbatim, "Isn't that the girl that shit her pants?" Even the people who own the Eye Care and Jesus store.

Hipster Jesus didn't need glasses, but then he heard all the cool kids weren't doing it.

This will never leave Sasquatch, it will always linger, just like the stench of her poop trove that even to this day, if you go to patio where that infamous party was held, you would swear you caught a whiff of that glorious moment. The one that made me popular. The one that completely ruined Sasquatch's life. But more importantly the one that made me popular. At Islip Highschool's class of 2010 graduation, when the principal called up Sasquatch, someone shouted a single word. "Doodie." When she eventually skips town, to escape the ridicule and judging eyes of every single person she knows, someone who remembers the tale will eventually pass through, and will tell the story to all. When she pulls a Ralph "Where's Waldo?" Emerson, and holes herself up in some unknown forest, the shrill and laughter of every single animal and being in the forest (which read about the story on this blog) will haunt her daily and nightly.

Hi, my name is Thom Oliver James Boody, and at the expensive of another human being, I hope you think that I am clever.

Time Magazine's Asshole of the Year

Pat being effing pissed that she is locked out.

Yeah guys, I am locked out. Soon to be rescued by my dad. Don't be an ass hat and jump me, my dog will eat you. He can phase through solid materials.

Hipster.

My phone has stopped orking. More details on why this is a miracle later.

Pictures that make us go 'Only in America!'

So some friends and I (coincidentally all blog team members) were driving when we passed this Church. NOT just any Church, one with such stunningly bad puns it felt the need to expose us all to their horrible-ness. The result? "Forecast- God Reigns Forever!" possible the worst pun that has ever been said, although I'm sure that will change once we start to google puns about Barack Obama.
I say this because of an article I read about comics made based around him that are all either terrible, alarming, disturbing or just plain senseless. As much as I would like to share the link here I will not, because then I would have to bludgeon myself with a large heavy blunt object until I finally came to the conclusion that I can now be blamed for the fall of his political career.

I take back everything I said up there about the Church having the worst pun. They can take the worst biblical pun award instead. I don't really even know where to place this one.

Happy Birthday Taylor and Ian! <3

Introductions are in order

I am the lone vigilante of the night. I am the one who strikes fear in the hearts of the unjust. I am the rogue who doesn't play by the rules. They call me...Rich a.k.a. White Rice. So. Basically I am going to post things on this particular blog about gaming and whatever else I feel like posting. I enjoy video games, movies, storytelling, writing, filming, cheesecake, The Room, long walks on the beach, murder, being random, going on adventures, repeating things, Mao, top hats, repeating things and plotting to take over the world. So as you can tell from this and previous posts I am in reality a very strange, random and ironic person. Unless this isn't reality and just a dream. BRRRRRRRRM...... BRRRRRRRRRRRRM........ BRRRRRRRRRRRMMM.......... BRRRRRRRRRM.......... BRRRRRRRRRRRMMM............................................ BRRRRRRRRM

Hipster.

Richard "White Rice" Smith

about me

Hi, I'm Evan. I like to play video games and hang out with my friends, I have a passion for sports, and my favorite sport is racing. I watch the NASCAR races 36 weeks of the year, and I have been to 2 races; Pocono in 2006 and Daytona in 2007. I am a college student in my third year at a community college on Long Island, and I love Florida. I am very friendly and very social. If anyone thinks I am anti social, then you obviously don't know me. I hope that's a good enough explanation of myself, LOL! I can sometimes be silly, and make weird faces, and I love to make people laugh. I am really a geek, no joke, just ask my friends. What is that? I am a loser? Thanks =) There's nothing you can do to change that =) And yes, I am also a Gleek....if u don't know what a Gleek is, you fail at life, and are missing out on the best TV show on earth. Don't mess with the Gleek, especially while i'm getting my Glee on! I will haunt your dreams if u do =) If u don't like who I am, then might as well rage quit, cuz u don't deserve a friend like me. That sounds so mean lol, but it really isn't. Hope you enjoy my posts =) Kthnxbye

Too Much Viagra

A sexually frustrated wife got some Viagra for her husband. Her doctor told her to give him one pill a night, and that he would call to check in with her after a week to see if their sex life had improved.

That night, the wife popped one viagra pill in her husband's food and got a good rogering.

The next night she gave him two viagra pills. The sex was even greater than the night before.

The following night she decided to give him the whole bottle of viagra. The sex was unimaginable.

A week later, the doctor called to check on the patient.

The couple's son answered the phone and sounded shaky.

The doctor asked to speak to his mother.

The son replied that his mother was in the hospital, the maid was pregnant, his butt was hurting, and his dad was standing naked in the front yard, yelling, “Here kitty, kitty….”


With all due respect,
Jonathan Mitchell

This is actually from Skyler, but since I messed up the permissions I'm posting it for him. Ignore the fancy signature, it's not really my post.

"Fuck Christmas"

Fuck Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.
Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind to scrap the whole works!

I've busted my ass for damn near a year
Instead of "Thanks Santa"--what do I hear?
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--The reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those assholes from the IRS sent me a letter,
They say I owe taxes--if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Claus any money?

I gave them the flipster to that old god dam hipster

To be continued….



With all due respect,
Jonathan Mitchell

Richard Gets Howled at by a Random Girl.

The funniest shit always happens to us. He was walking back to Starbucks when a random girl opened up her window and went 'OOOWWW!!!!!', the way you yell when you're at an -insert male artist-'s concert and they go to take off their shirt. Richard gave them the most stern look he could come up with, and they sort of lowered their head awkwardly. Story of our lives.

Hipster.

So when I walked into the bathroom in Starbucks...

I was almost hit in the face by the thin part of the door. The part that swings and almost kills people. So, while I was in the bathroom I had a long chat with the door in which I explained that although being in the bathroom all the time sucks, hitting people is not how we make friends. I received a heartfelt apology from the door, and we are now pen-pals.

Did anyone also notice that the excel hand dryers are basically small jet turbines? Who the hell had that idea? I say this only because it blows cold air at high velocities in the winter. I'm allergic to the cold so this is like an instant hive trip. Anyone else have any strange stories like this (not that my story is strange at all.)?

Hipster.

Richard is Part Bird.

Hipster.
♥! -Pat

It's Like a Condom for Your Nose! (Pat and Richard Write About Life)

R- Ok. Ahahaha. So about that health care system.

P- Actually let me type this up on the computer. I'm just writing down what you say.

R- I don't know I prefer writing it down on paper.

P- Richard, there are entire songs about not getting what you want. I prefer to learn my life lessons from people who are complete strangers from sources such as the radio.

R- What does that even mean?? We are in Starbucks anyway it makes sense to just write it on a laptop. Be like edgy screenplay writers.

Random person- Blah blah blah, etc.

P- -sips coffee-

R- -sits there, looking ironic-

P- Richard, together we Make irony.

R- -silence-

P- -sips coffee-

R- I want to say something, should I just say it? Why did we name our son Irony? It's so hipster.

P- What the fuck? I don't remember carrying or birthing a child, I think we're talking about different Pat's.

R- Ahahaha. Ahahahahaha. Ahahahaha. Alright Pat, what the fuck that's too many ahahahaha's.

P- I calls 'em as I sees 'em.

R- Well whatever. Speaking of Irony, where is he? Actually I think he's just a projection.

P- That makes my baby-having-parts feel relieved, I was nervous I missed out on something sort of important.

R- Quick Pat, we need to go back to the previous dream stage! Give him the kick! Imagine if I actually just fell back in the chair in the middle of Starbucks.

P- This is supposed to be like an interview except nobody's interviewing us.

R- We're just bullshitting. Billshitting? Pat? Pat? Pat? -Boop-

P- -punches Richard-

R- -Richard falls out of chair- Right now I have cancer. Thanks, Pat. You must be keeding raaight?

P- -coughs-

R- -pats Pat on the back- Ahahaha.

Skyler- How much was that tall drink?

R- Like four something.

P- No it wasn't!

R- Oh, then how much was it?

P- Like three something.

R- Oh, ok. Yeah, three something.

Skyler- It's really three something?

R- You could always get my top hat and go outside and pretend to be a hobo and beg for money.

Skyler- That only works in the city, unless I get robbed by the gay French hipster.

P- The word hipster has to be in every single one of your posts. Like, if it doesn't fit into the context of your post then at the end you sign off as whoever you are and just write the word hipster.

R- Speaking of the gay French hipster, me and Boody, Boody and I, have so many theories about who this guy is.

Skyler- -laughs-

R- Uhm I just came up with the theory that he was the Devil and this was like one of those classic bible tales of like someone encountering the devil and he was like tempting us with irony and obscurity.

Skyler- He was just lookin' for some booty.

R- He was looking to do something to Boody.

P- Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, and hide yo Boody's and booties.

Skyler- I'd rather be taken by the Boogie man than the gay French hipster. Ima go get some chocolate.

P- Jesus Christ.

R- Actually I think the Boogie Man and the gay French hipster are one and the same. Ahaha. That's another one of my theories. He's definitely some kind of strange paranormal force.

P- What the hell?

R- You can say that again.

S- What the fuck.

R- meanwhile back in San Francisco..ahaha.

Skyler- f-u-c-k-e-r-y. she's writing everything that we're saying? is she serious? what the fuck? -rage quits-

P- What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you say what the fuck so many fucking times? Kids probably read this mother fucking God dammned blog, we don't need fuckers like you saying fucking fuck all the fucking time. It's fucking
disrespectful.

R- For all I care you can all go drop off the face of the Earth. That's a promise.

Skyler- This is magically delicious.

R- -boop....boop...boop..- I boop you in the nose. Ahahaha.






R- Hey Pat, you did a really good job on this blog. You should go PAT yourself on the back!

Everyone- -laughs-

P- Fuck you.

Structure! Ah!

I feel like it's been forever since the last chain of posts. We have a new structure over here, including everything from a fully fledged team to random bursts of Alanis Morissette. The site will also go under maintenance but this won't interfere with the ability to view it. Go coding! This is going to be awesome. Stay un-rhymed, ♥! -Pat

EMERGENCY

Did anyone else cry when they read that Miley Cyrus smokes salvia like a champ?

Well now that you think I have emotions, let me just say, I don't. Not with this topic at least. What the hell, Miley??? Your fans are smaller than the plant you're trippin' on!! I'm surprised that her dad seems to think he has no control over her. He should downright know that by now. I'm also not surprised that Disney has said not a peep on this whole thing. It seems that when they are in support of a star in trouble they know everything to say, but when their stars are falling out of the sky, they do nothing but distance themselves from the star until they fizzle out. Miley, they're ending your show, and your songs are marketed to Europe. Disney hates you.

This is just another cool way I plan on expanding this blog.

What the hell, this is so freaking cool. I can publish from Word! I have to tell the team-to-bees about this!

I thought it would be cool to have a leaf that makes little leaf babies...

So I just saw this thing that literally is a leaf that has little leaf babies over time. Thought it would be cool to share. Off to eat food, check back often for these insignificant but (in my mind) awesome posts. http://www.gardeningoncloud9.com/200906/miracle-leaf-kalanchoe-pinnata/

Ok so this is just a test post to make sure all of my settings work. You all can ignore this.

So this was shown to me by the same friend in my last post.

this is the funniest thing ever. and creepiest.
By the way, I don't feel like getting sued so lemme just say I don't own Flapjack, just love it. Yadda yadda yadda I have no rights to it yadda yadda........OK enjoy!

Elizabeth Edwards and Mark Madoff had something unfortunate in common.

I'm sure many believe that they deserved better than the wrongdoings that were done to them, and the untruths told to them. They're in a better place and my thoughts are with their families. I'm sorry for the losses and I hope that the untimely deaths of both of these individuals will inspire more to do the right thing in their lives, lest such tragedies happen in vain.

My close friend just asked me to write about Cataclysm, so here it goes. Worgen rock, Alliance still sucks, don't think this makes us like you more. I'll bet with the fourth expansion the Alliance will have messed something up and the Worgen will trade factions. I called it.

So I was laughing at Ann Coulter like I normally do, WHEN...

I realized, holy mother of fallopian tubes, someone has rendered her speechless!!! If only someone could do that repeatedly so that she could never utter a single idiotic phrase, I'm sure many would be better off to acquire their 'news' in peace. And probably from Glenn Beck.
Oh well, at least it's not Bill O'Reilly.

In other news, I intend on conducting this blog with a constant sense of urgency, which is why I have empoyed several digital fish to ensure none of you die from brain overload.

So most of that was a lie, I do not have the authority to employ digital fish. I think the only person who does is Al Gore. He technically invented them after all.

What I mean by a sense of urgency is simply that when I write about current issues I like to think that their severity is enough to motivate action to lead to a better solution. That is not always the case, which is why I'm sure Obama still wears mom jeans with he thinks no one is looking. Not because they're comfortable, but because it's hard to have time to shop when your large amount of massive-scale action is covering the asses of most of America.

Gilbert Gottfried at the Roast of David Hasselhoff comes into head, where he masterfully links Seth McFarlane's rear end to the Simpsons. Of course that's the clean version, but it was too funny to type, as one of those things that easily loses in translation, as if his voice alone was not one of those things.

My point here is simply to further explain my motivations for this blog. It is intended for all who can read and understand at the same time, and for those who can't there is always Weenie Hut Jr.

This is going to suck.

Wow, I bet you all think I was talking about this post, huh? Swallow your pride, America, I was talking about World of Warcraft. And in part the fact that about ten people have asked me why I chose a chemistry theme for a blog that clearly is not about chemistry. First hint? What was I talking about up there in sentence one? World of Warcraft. This is the obligatory first post that ultimately makes no sense and is possibly the worst reflection for the blog as a whole. I made it to simply publish my thoughts in a way that makes them visible and inevitably useless to all, if not most. But hey, it's fun. Maybe I'll get a follower.