I can hear you in there! The lights are off, but I can hear you! Stop laughing and open up, dammit!

So I started surfing Picrave again. It's amazing how much people are freakin' attention whores. I admit, I have my profile on there. I only did it so I could sign other people's profiles and that sorta thing. Of course, there are those whose entire life revolves around their current standings in Picrave (or FaceTheJury). One girl I know who shall remain nameless is so obsessed with these damn sites that she gets depressed when people stop voting for her or when the entire server is reset. She even goes so far as to edit her pictures in photo shop before posting them. I can't find the really good example right now, so you'll just have to trust me. She's a nice girl, but not too bright.

It sorta makes you think, though. The next picture of ahotty you see, try looking around her tits and her hips... look closely at the background surrounding them and see if they are warped at all. That's a surefire way of telling if the picture has been edited.

Oh boy, the lengths we go these days.

I mean, why can't they just use trick lighting, like me?

A prime example:



Tata.

Andrew

'Tis better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven... or something.

So I'm sitting here... at highschool... doing literature... of which I did last year....

So kiddies, can you circle what's wrong in that sentence? Did you circle every goddamned thing? No? Idiot!

So I'm taking Lit 12 again, because, well, I failed last year and I don't want to have a big freakin' 'F' sitting next to one of my best subjects. 'So,' I say to myself, 'I think I'll go back to school. There's a good idea and a half.' So my naive self drags my fat ass back to school to torture myself voluntarily.

So, I started another sentence with so. How many's that now?

Stupid school. Stupid computers. Stupid T1 line that is shared with five freaking schools. Stupid using 'freak' as a substitute for 'fuck'. Atleast I have cool hair. That or obscenely stupid looking hair. Either way, some kid wanted to film it for his stupid media project.

Whatever.

I felt like screaming, "No! Do not make me part of your silly highschool project, peon! I am a year older than you and therefore higher on the social ladder! Begone with ye!"

And then I remembered that the only thing worse than a highschool kid is a voluntary one.

For shame Andrew, for shame.

Andrew.

So, I walk into a bar, and the bartender says, 'Hey kid, let's see some ID!' Get it? I did!

Okay, this has nothing to do with the title (when does it really ever have anything to do with anything, I wonder?)

There's the magic word, hidden at the end of that unscrupulous sentence with the parenthesis tucked away within yet another sentence. I. Wonder.

Sometimes I wonder the following:

1) Why up is up and not down or left or right or south.

2) Why I'm the only one who seems to notice that everyone but me is a complete and utter moron.

3) Why I claim to think I am smarter than all of you. Who the fuck am I kidding? (YOU, ya dumb bastards! HAHA!)

4) Why people who write other blogs can't seem to find the shift key in order to capitalize their sentences.

5) Why people seem to think that blasting away a smaller country who wants to be heard will solve all their problems.

6) Why I haven't dropped dead from alcohol poisoning or chronic cynisism (I hear it's quite a way to go).

7) Why my internet doesn't work when I'm bored, and does when I'm not.

8) Why patriotism is somehow different from nationalism.

9) Why I refuse handouts when I could really really use them.

10) Why lists always seem to end at the number 10.

11) And why people don't seem to care what comes after.

Waiting for the answers.
Andrew

I Work with social deviants! To think I thought I wouldn't have fun!

Wow, I like my work.

My favorite part? Drunk stories and food fights in the kitchen. Not to mention one of the grillboys is a dealer.

I think he smokes too much of his product, though, because he thinks Aphex Twin wrote "What's My Age Again" and Nickelback is really called "Silver-side Up". He's cool otherwise.

I can't wait until I get to deal with a drunk or a wacked out crack whore. Apparently it happens alot.

Cracking my knuckles,
Andrew

Hi, Remember Me?

Well, I did it. I finally got my mother off my back and got back on the horse.

The work horse, that is.

This time, however, I've gone from 'Sales Zealot' to 'Burger Warrior'. Ah yes, the grunt of the Common Commercialist Army. The disposable, the greasy: the fastfood grillboy. In fact, I was so perfect for the job, they phoned back the same day as the interview (today). I am to report to work tomorrow, fresh and early at 9 AM. The order of the day, learn the classic "bump and curl". If you don't know what that is, I'm not going to tell you. It's a major hint as to what fast food joint I'm working at, and if you can guess, I'll airmail you one of their burgers.

As for everything else in my life, well, meh. I got my christmas shopping done today (and under my 30 dollar budget-- 40 if it had not been for a Classic Double from Wendy's). I come to loathe this bastardized commercialist holiday representing a conjured up fictional event more and more every year. Pretty soon, the legend will go that only the good little boys and girls who spent atleast 100 dollars at their favorite department store will get visited by santa-- and if they're especially good, they'll get extra Club-Z points.

As for New Years, I look apon this year's festivities with anticipation. Any christmas proceeds will go directly to the "Get Andrew Good and Hammered Fund", where Andrew will go to the Cambie in Nanaimo with his friends, buy pitcher after pitcher of those most vile, alcoholic stuff he can afford, and get shit faced while listening to some hardcore thrashing punk music. And then there will be much rejoicing.

No doubt my new job will require me to work on New Years Day... you know it's gonna happen. Well, I'll go to work, but I'll make sure I'm good and hung over first. You know... to teach myself a lesson. Yeah. That'll work.

Anyway, off to bed... off to bed. Commercial Assimilation awaits.
Andrew.

Mid-Appocolyptic Report: The Engine Has Been Dropped, I repeat...

We dropped the new engine in to the car yesterday. Yesterday, that is, after dropping it in a day before and realizing that some shit was on it wrong and we'd have to take it out and rip that stuff off. Ah well. I've been slowing down, as my gung-ho spirit tends to fade as things become more regular (it's the same reason why I don't post as often as I used to here, too). I also blame my slow-ness on the radio. I've been listening to the MOJO (The New AM 730, Talk Radio for Guys). They have the funniest shit on there. I now am confident I can pick up chicks too. Well, okay, I was confident I could do that before, but that's beside the point.

The point is, Tom Leykis is my god.

He says that in order to get chicks, men should be liars, assholes, and should base relationships mostly on sex. I'm already on the same wavelength as this dude. Women are, for the most part, ditzes that demand monogamy from their male partners but don't mind having a few of those male partners. He talks about how women are crazy, CRAZY birds and how men shouldn't trust them, give them bank account numbers, PIN numbers, or anything else that is valuable to them.

How true is that? 100%, that's how true.

I've been tempted to phone in to one of his shows sometime. If I do, I'll record it and save it on wave format for you people. This guy is just fucking awesome, you have NO idea. He's a 45 year-old guy, he's been married four times, and he listens to Blink-182 on a regular basis. Chicks flash their tits for him and everything. I want to be this man.

Happy Halloween.

The ghouls are coming out, the vampires emerging from their lairs, the werewolves from their dens, and the mummies from their crypts. Don't forget Barbie, Mario and Pikachu who are emerging from Walmart. Also, don't forget the countless amounts of french maids, catholic school girls and oddly promiscuous nuns from "Adult" stores. Yup, we certainly know what halloween is all about.

Anyway, I'm not really in the mood for any kind of bashing of halloween (it's my favorite holiday and I still see things wrong with it) because my jacket smells like cigars and I need to clean the grease off of me. See ya later.

Andrew