New Logo Images!!

That Image is going to change a lot once I learn how to not fail. >_X

Hipster.

Pat and Rich Talk About Life: Richard vs. the Spider Pig.

Pat Moore (5:14:55 PM): How bout we do a segment right now

Pat Moore (5:15:04 PM): Richard vs. the spider pid

Pat Moore (5:15:07 PM): *pig

Pat Moore (5:15:29 PM): Pat and rich talk about life: rich vs. the spider pig

Pat Moore (5:15:36 PM): Let's do it.


Richard Smith (5:15:53 PM): Ok.

Richard Smith (5:16:14 PM): Right now?

Pat Moore (5:16:50 PM): Yes, starting like ten lines ago. lmao

Pat Moore (5:17:11 PM): So, Richard.

Pat Moore (5:17:15 PM): Explain to me again,

Pat Moore (5:17:24 PM): how that spider pig got onto your face.

Richard Smith (5:17:45 PM): Well you see,

Richard Smith (5:18:00 PM): I was just walking done the hallway at Scruffolk,

Pat Moore (5:18:21 PM): mhhmm.

Richard Smith (5:18:22 PM): With my orange hazard armor and my crowbar,

Pat Moore (5:18:35 PM): a necessity.

Richard Smith (5:18:59 PM): Suddenly this thing comes out of nowhere and I'm all the like: "ZOMG WTF IS THIS THING"

Pat Moore (5:19:09 PM): What valor!!!

Richard Smith (5:19:27 PM): And then he's all like "IMMA GONNA EAT YOUR BRAINZ"

Richard Smith (5:19:39 PM): (brb)

Pat Moore (5:19:44 PM): That is terrifying.

Pat Moore (5:19:59 PM): (ok. p.s. anything not in character should be in parenthesis)

Richard Smith went idle at 5:30:24 PM

Richard Smith came back from idle at 5:48:38 PM

Richard Smith went idle at 5:58:39 PM

Richard Smith came back from idle at 6:09:55 PM

Richard Smith (6:15:07 PM): (back)

Richard Smith (6:15:22 PM): Sorry I took so long

Richard Smith (6:15:25 PM): ()*

Richard Smith (6:24:09 PM): (Give me a call if you want to continue: NOT RICHARD'S PHONE NUMBER)

Pat Moore (6:35:49 PM): (hi)

Richard Smith (6:36:49 PM): (ok now where were we)

Richard Smith (6:37:29 PM): So I lift up my crowbar and I'm all like "Oh, no you don't".

Richard Smith begin (6:38:22 PM): And that's when I realize that I left my crowbar in my car and that I instead have a twig.

Pat Moore (6:38:35 PM): (wait a sec I'm looking for a vet for Shawn)

Richard Smith (6:39:03 PM): So then the fucker proceeds to latch onto my face and start to nom on my face.

Richard Smith (6:39:06 PM): (ok)

Richard Smith (6:39:24 PM): (What's up with Shawn?)

Pat Moore (6:41:32 PM): (he has to get a checkup)

Richard Smith (6:42:07 PM): (ok)

Pat Moore (6:44:28 PM): (because he's so fat)

Richard Smith (6:46:30 PM): (:3)

Pat Moore (7:13:37 PM): I can see, after all this time that spider pig still has one hell of a grip..

Richard Smith (7:15:46 PM): What does that even mean?

Richard Smith (7:15:48 PM): Anyway,

Richard Smith (7:16:03 PM): So I'm trying to punch him off my face.

Pat Moore (7:16:18 PM): I just meant that since it's still there...

Pat Moore (7:16:26 PM): But continue.

Richard Smith (7:16:36 PM): SHUP PAT IT'S STORY TIME.

Pat Moore (7:16:46 PM): .....Shup...

Richard Smith (7:16:47 PM): (Shut up)

Pat Moore (7:16:56 PM): (LMFAO I know)

Richard Smith (7:17:19 PM): YOU DO NOT SPEAK DURING STORY TIME.

Pat Moore (7:17:27 PM): -says nothing-

Richard Smith (7:17:49 PM): Anyway where was I...

Richard Smith (7:17:55 PM): Oh yeah

Pat Moore (7:17:59 PM): You had a twig.

Richard Smith (7:18:11 PM): So I'm beating the crap out of him.

Richard Smith (7:18:35 PM): And he's still nomming on my face.

Pat Moore (7:18:43 PM): mhmm..

Richard Smith (7:18:54 PM): So I take the twig and stab him with it

Pat Moore (7:19:01 PM): !!!!!

Richard Smith (7:19:17 PM): Only it goes right through him and I stab myself in the eye

Pat Moore (7:19:26 PM): Wait...

Pat Moore (7:19:40 PM): How is it that your twig can phase through solid matter?

Pat Moore (7:19:56 PM): Then manage to stab you?

Richard Smith (7:20:11 PM): Who's telling the story here?

Richard Smith highlighting (7:20:26 PM): That's beside the point

Richard Smith (7:20:37 PM): So.

Richard Smith (7:20:49 PM): My eye is bleeding like hell

Richard Smith (7:21:26 PM): And S.P. is flipping a shit about being impaled by a twig

Pat Moore (7:21:33 PM): Wait,

Richard Smith (7:21:37 PM): SO he's off my face.

Pat Moore (7:21:48 PM): -sighs-

Richard Smith (7:22:47 PM): So then after 2 hours of agony I say:

Richard Smith (7:23:11 PM): "Wait...why the fuck are we fighting each other again?"

Richard Smith (7:23:39 PM): To which he replies: "I honestly don't know good sir."

Pat Moore (7:23:44 PM): WAIT.

Richard Smith (7:23:54 PM): So then we agreed to bury the hatchet

Pat Moore (7:24:00 PM): Spider pigs DO NOT speak English.

Richard Smith (7:24:03 PM): Let bygones be bygones.

Richard Smith (7:24:06 PM): PAT.

Richard Smith (7:24:12 PM): SHUT UP.

Richard Smith (7:24:18 PM): STORY TIME.

Pat Moore (7:24:19 PM): EVERYONE knows they speak Icelandic!

Richard Smith (7:24:34 PM): I know Icelandic.

Pat Moore (7:24:41 PM): .....Uhm...

Richard Smith (7:24:51 PM):Don't ask questions.

Pat Moore (7:25:05 PM): I'm starting to doubt this ever happened..

Pat Moore (7:25:24 PM): If it wasn't for the fact that the pig is on your face..

Pat Moore (7:25:32 PM): Still.

Richard Smith (7:25:46 PM): So anyway we both shook hands and we both had a nice cup of tea and some crumpets and we both discussed modern political systems.

Pat Moore (7:26:04 PM): Ok I don't think this is legit.

Richard Smith (7:26:18 PM): He actually had some pretty good arguments for a socialist economic system.

Richard Smith (7:26:35 PM): So yeah.

Pat Moore (7:26:38 PM): He's a pig..

Richard Smith (7:26:46 PM): A spider pig.

Richard Smith (7:26:58 PM): Yes.

Pat Moore (7:27:01 PM): Alright yes, a spider pig.

Richard Smith (7:27:05 PM): Indeed.

Pat Moore (7:27:11 PM): Does he have a name, then?

Richard Smith (7:27:41 PM): Gregor von Bismark

Pat Moore (7:27:52 PM): Is that the English translation?

Richard Smith (7:28:01 PM): It's German

Pat Moore (7:28:13 PM): I thought he was Icelandic?

Richard Smith (7:28:26 PM): He was born in Germany

Pat Moore (7:28:32 PM): Ah...

Richard Smith (7:28:33 PM): But that's not the point

Richard Smith (7:29:40 PM): Last I heard he was on some kind of expedition in to Mt. Kilemonjaro

Pat Moore (7:30:05 PM): But...i can see him!

Pat Moore (7:30:11 PM): he's still on your face!

Richard Smith (7:30:44 PM): That's his cousin Jeffery

Richard Smith (7:30:52 PM): GOD PAT

Pat Moore (7:30:57 PM): Where is he from??

Richard Smith (7:31:10 PM): You think all spider pigs look alike.

Pat Moore (7:31:20 PM): I do, it's a bad habit.

Richard Smith highlighting (7:31:33 PM): That's specie-ism.

Richard Smith (7:31:39 PM): !!!

Pat Moore (7:31:47 PM): AHH!!

Richard Smith (7:32:04 PM): BAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Pat Moore (7:32:50 PM): (I'm getting juice)

Pat Moore (7:32:56 PM): (And probably coffee)

Richard Smith (7:33:05 PM): (Ahahaha)

Richard Smith (7:33:23 PM): (Can I get a slice of cheesecake and a bottle of water?)

Richard Smith (7:34:46 PM): (Brb)

Richard Smith (7:42:30 PM): (Back)

Pat Moore (7:42:52 PM): (Princess Protection Program is on next and I'm a dorky Demi fan)

Richard Smith (7:43:02 PM): (ordering a pizza)

Richard Smith (7:43:07 PM): (lolwut?)

Pat Moore (7:43:19 PM): (pizzaaa)

Richard Smith (7:46:33 PM): (I already ordered a pizza)

Richard Smith (7:46:45 PM): (Ahahaha, you think about everything)

Woops.

Foreword

Hello again readers of this oddly named blog. Since I still have not exactly decided where I am going with my whole segment quite yet; I figured I would continue the theme from my last entry over to this one, for some illusion of consistency. Overall what I have gathered from my last and only post is that I pretty much am a total asshole. This is actually believe it or not a new revelation to me, and I am sure there are a few individuals out there reading this whispering to their computer screens “It’s about fucking time.”

I intended to write a piece which detailed my “amusing” exploitation of an aim chat room website. But this has been proving a difficult task, for I hadn’t quite realized the magnitude of my asshole-ish-ness; the chat room antics that I have saved consist of about two and a half Ayn Rand novels worth of text.

Ayn Rand on her latest objectivist novel, "800 Pages Entailing Why You Should be Selfish and Not Care About Orphans."

You can read all about that next week though when I finally decide that I care more about entertaining who ever the hell even reads this, then about updating my facebook statuses with cryptic music lyrics vaguely relating to some women I am attempting to woo. And in case you were wondering how that’s going, it’s not at all.

I apologize for the vast amount of delays thus far that have plagued the development of this particular post (why am I talking about this as if it were some movie or higher work of literature?) It shall be finished tonight, I am currently simply editing and googling extra allusions I can throw in to make me look even more clever. Just know this my readers, that instead of writing the post you've all been waiting for, I was probably jerking off or something.

So now that you’ve got that nice visual in your head, here’s my official apology and something I’ll now start doing regularly.

Both are sort of experimental, funky electronic ordeals. Discovery is the solo project of the keyboardist from Vampire Weekend, and his LP is incredibly catchy and seriously infectious. Caribou on the other hand was formerly a mathematician who decided math was lame and became a musician. Definitely give both a spin. Highlights include "Odessa," "Leave House" and "Lalibela" for Swim; "Osaka Loop Line," "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend" and "I Want You Back" for Discovery. Seriously don’t be discouraged by the seemingly pop vibe Discovery seems to instill at first. Trust me it takes that and distorts it into something pretty freakin' awesome. And yes I Want You Back is totally a Michael Jackson cover.

Know, my spectacular and beautiful readers, that I will finish writing within the next two hours or so. And also know that if for whatever reason not up sunday it is entirely Pat’s fault (totally scapegoating the blame here.) Until then, see you space cowboy(s)…

~Thom Oliver James Boody

Instant YEAH !!

Instant YEAH !!

My Journey with Slender Man.

Some of you may have heard of Slender Man. If you haven't, rejoice because if you have heard of him you know that this shit will fuck you up.

Anyway..

It all started when I had a small group of blog teamers over for Christmas so we could celebrate (although it was near comical that the party was hosted by myself, a Jew.), and they, nearing the end of the gathering, decided that it would be a good idea to tell me about the series of youtube videos made by Marble Hornets. Mind you, these videos have achieved about 300k views each. It is hard to watch them one at a time, except for the fact that I believe new ones are still being made. We watched 30 back to back videos of the horror that is Slender Man. It took maybe an hour and change, but during this time I had (I want to say) five all out meltdowns, I broke a glass by knocking it off the table flailing and I screamed enough times that I'm honestly shocked that none of the neighbors called some kind of service thinking that I was being abused or something. In truth, I was. But by a tall thin man who wears a suit and has no face....and kills people.

I still sleep with the light on.

Then, in an effort to try to make me laugh about the whole thing they showed me a video that pokes fun at dear ol' Slendy. Take a look for yourself:



It failed miserably.

The next few things were just annoying. While waiting on line outside a club near to us we decided it would be a good idea to take pictures, because it would be funny. We took mostly normal ones, and then, HORROR.

FOUND YOU. FOREVER.

THENNNN I'm sure you all have seen the image that we used for our logo that I had drawn and I think posted in the past:

The moment I realized I had done this I realized I would never EVER be safe again.

Do you see those little circles that say C60 in them? they were going to be molecules when the image was remade on the computer. Instead, since we decided it would be cooled if it were one watermarked image behind it, I crossed out the first two. They now make circles with X's in them. If you have see the more recent Marble Hornets videos you know that this is a reoccurring theme.

It scared the crap out of me.

The last few days have been oddly normal, in the sense that my friends have calmed down about the joking, and I have had no more sightings to prevent me from sleeping. I would hope that if anyone has anything to add about this unfortunate chain of events that they would please comment. For all we know (since he poofs in and out of dimensions at will) no one is safe. We depend on each other for the knowledge that may one day stop this killer in his tall, thin, faceless tracks, and for that I applaud you, readers.

Be safe.

Saved

Hipster.

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