Friday

So I get done with school, and right when I get home, mom's like "HAIRCUT LOL", so without any notice, I'm hauled to the local barber's, who I haven't seen in six months. "Hello, may I help you?" the clerk asks us. "No.", I bluntly reply. "Ignore him," my mother said, "He needs a haircut, badly." "ORLY?" said the clerk. "Follow us to the back."  The moment arrives; my beautiful (At least I think so. ._.) hair is about to be sliced from my scalp, and there's nothing I can do about it. Then, a glimmer of hope revealed itself to me. "How would you like it cut?" The woman asked. Now was my chance; I could tell her what my mother would want me to, or I could pull a fast one. 

"1/4 inch off." I said. "OKAY LOL", said the lady. She got to work on my head ( >____> ), and before the guy next to me finished his mohawk (No, really), we were done. Mom comes over, only to display her dissatisfaction. Fully expecting I only bought time, it was to my surprise she let me get away with it. So I managed to leave almost exactly as I entered; long, shaggy hair. For once, I'm happy; and for once, I don't have to hide in my room for two weeks, waiting for my hair to grow back.

I then get home, shower, and dry my hair. Instead of plopping dead on the couch like any normal teenager would, I'm dragged to a gardening store, which I soon found out was the gathering place for every senior citizen in the state. The elderly could tell I was overjoyed to be there. "You look as enthralled as my husband!" one reanimated corpse stated (her husband right behind her, who looked as if he was contemplating suicide). I smiled and nodded, as the duo began their twenty minute voyage to the other side of the rack. Time passed, and I looked all over. No sign of a rope. I was dehydrated, and close to sunburnt. "Why?", I thought. "Why me?". To this day, I do not know. Finally, the moment of truth arrived.

As we were checking out, a strange man with a large smile crept up silently behind us. One look, and my pedo-alarm went off. If this man didn't have a penchant for pooper, I don't know who does. This guy made Michael Jackson look straight! I half-expected him to go to town right then and there! Amazingly, I escaped with my underwear intact, and made it safely home. One thing's for sure, I'm never going flower shopping again.

Oh, and I took some photos too. Comment please. :D

The Infamous UPS Sales Slogan

So there I was, beasting my schoolwork, working on what would be a guaranteed A+, when suddenly, a UPS commercial comes on. It was typical queer BS, about how they're the number one service ever, and you're gay if you use anything else. But their slogan caught my attention: "What can Brown do for you?". After giving it some serious thought, I came up with a small list of possibilities, of what brown is good for.

1. Peel your wallpaper.

2. Attract the opposite sex.

3. Stain your good shorts.

4. Cause you to miss a meeting.

5. Ruin your reputation.

6. Make your job as a janitor more frustrating.

7. Heat your home.

8. Clog your intestines.

9. Cause your packages to arrive late.

10. Hip-Hop.

11. An excellent prank.

12. Substitute catfood.

13. A Paperweight.

14. The environment.

15. Waterbomb.

16. Revenge against a landlord.

17. Two Girls, One Cup.

18. Chocolate Pudding.

19. Chocolate Rain.

20. Lincoln Logs.

21. Tonka Truck Debris. (Made in China)

22. Car Fuel.

23. Dessert.

24. This Blog.

25. One large mess.

I encourage you and your friends to try any or all of the methods listed, on the condition that if you do so, you'll send me photos worth publishing. Now get out there, and make some brown!

COPS - Local Edition

I had a freakin' episode of COPS right outside of my bedroom window last Saturday. It started out as a typical Saturday afternoon: rotting in front of the computer, when out of the blue, my mother frantically kicked down my door. At first, I thought she was just trying to catch me browsing porn CNN, but she quickly diverted my attention to my bedroom window. Instead of witnessing a gang rape, or an automobile accident (like I always do when I look out my window), I noticed a pulled over vehicle, and a single police car. I thought very little of it, until three additional police cars, and a canine unit arrived on scene. 

The dog promptly went to town on the vehicle, causing them to search the car. 'Lo and behold, Officer Dick Head tossed what I want to believe was a single bag of marijuana, on the roof of the car, and the Wild Snorlax was cuffed, and hauled off in a police car. All but two officers remained at the scene, who took ten whole minutes to wrap up their debate over the best donut shops. All in all, it was a pretty interesting afternoon, and I can only hope (and pretty much guarantee) that one day, I can turn on the TV, and see my house in the background, while police cuff and search a man.

Bleach Sucks

Bored out of my mind lately, I took a friend up on the suggestion of watching a cartoon known as Bleach. Despite the fact that it's a Japanese cartoon Anime, I went against my better judgement, and checked it out for myself. To this day, I still hate myself.

Bleach is focused around a troubled 15-year-old High School student named Ichigo, who ever since he was a child, has had heightened spiritual senses, and has been able to see spirits since as long as he can remember. Ichigo's family is attacked by a super huge ghost called a Hollow, because his "Sprit Power" is unnaturally high, and of course, Hollows like nothing more than Spirit-Rich human souls to devour.

His neck is saved at the last moment, thanks to a Death God named Rukia, who soon finds the Hollow to be too much for her, because she's a nagging, inexperienced whore who belongs in the kitchen making me dinner. Knowing this, she transfers her Death God powers to Ichigo, in order to save their worthless hides. After vanquishing the Hollow, Rukia is stuck in the human world, unable to go back to the Soul Society in which she came from. In order to survive in the living world, she dons the shortest skirt I've ever seen, and begins to attend school with Ichigo. 

Two months later, she's hunted down by fellow Death Gods, and snatched back to the Soul Society; awaiting execution for her crime of transferring her powers. Ichigo then takes it upon himself to train with a local shopkeeper who conveniently happens to be an ex-Death God, in order to prepare himself for his Journey to Soul Society to save Rukia. Lucky for Ichigo, half of his class, including a guy who likes to sew, have "heightened spiritual senses" too, and they all miraculously develop super powers overnight, to assist Ichigo on his journey to save a girl they knew for two months. (It's that short skirt, I knew it.)

On his Journey, Ichigo runs into several enemy Death Gods. Every Death God has a sword called a Soul Slayer. Soul Slayers are the show's equivalent of a penis. Throughout the series, Death Gods are constantly comparing their sword's sizes, and the bigger dick sword always wins. Just like my own dick, Soul Slayers have multiple forms and powers known as Bankai, which include tricks such as turning into a giant snake, or shattering into a trillion pieces; mutilating the opponent. Every Death God names their penis sword too. (I named mine Henry.) In order to use their weapon's special powers, your girlfriend the Death God must call out my penis' their sword's name, and add a cheesy verb beforehand, magically activating the power. For example, I like to yell "Blastoff, Henry!" before each one-on-one match, ensuring maximum results.

After a week's worth of training, Ichigo finds himself strong enough to defeat the Death God leaders, who are the strongest beings alive, including an elderly man, who likes to fight with no shirt on, and yell ancient Japanese parables to his enemies during each battle. Throughout the entire series, Ichigo goes from undefeatable, to barely able to stay alive, trains for literally one or two days, comes back, slaughters the enemy who almost killed him the night before, goes on to fight another squad leader, and repeats. This reminds me of the last time I went grocery shopping. In the produce isle, an old lady hit me with her cane, causing a bruise. Defeated, I walked home in shame. Well now, I'm going to train for two days, storm right back down to that produce isle, unsheathe Henry, and show that old windbag my Bankai. 

The story ends with Ichigo saving Rukia after all. Wanting to thank him, Rukia allows Ichigo to rape her face.

The End.

MySpace in five minutes.

That's exactly what your MySpace page says when you riddle it with glitter text, cheap animations, contrasting backgrounds, hard to read text, falling objects, custom cursors, and poor grammar. Take this steaming pile of crap for example. I found this on some profile-in-a-can website, called "pimp-my-profile.com", that specializes in delivering top quality crap to the masses. What kind of retard would use that as their profile? Another thing: chain letters. You know, the ones like this.

• Author: Cpt. Douchebag
  
• Subject: I broke my leg, guys, I can't make it tonight...
  
• Body: sinc u opend this lttr u hav 2 repost in 30 secundz or u wont gt layd for 10 yers!!111!

WHAT ELSE IS NEW? The majority of people who send this letter out should already know that they won't get laid for ten years, or at all for that matter. I suppose reposting this bulletin makes them think the boy/girl of their dreams will completely forget that they're an ugly douchebag, and do them in a moment of weakness under the moonlight in the backyard while the neighbors watch. News Flash: this isn't "Sixteen Candles", and reposting a useless bulletin won't change that: Especially if u spl lyke a retrd and have a glittery page that hurts to look at.

Yet another thing. I hate websites that are directing themselves at the stereotypical teenager, by using words such as "Pimp", "Palace", "Princess", and most of all sites like www.myspace-pimp-princess-palace.gov. Do they think that's "cool"? 

--------------------

AIM IM with Jeff Hopkins

David: dude lol chek this site out its called myspace-pimp-princess-palace

Jeff: lol awesome d00d lol im ttly goin 2 add glttr and crsors and sh*t 2 maii piag kthxbai.

David: lol i kno i cant b leve they have PIMP in t3h sight naim!! thats so PIPM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jeff: inorite?!

--------------------

Disagree with me? Screw off. I'm right, you're wrong. But just in case you have a hard time reading normal text...

I Hate Guitar Hero

Ever been to a Guitar Hero competition? You know, the public ones held in the ghetto part of town that has a weekly drive-by? That's where I went last night. Since we couldn't get ahold of drugs, a couple friends and I headed up to the local barber shop for a virtual jam session, minus the sex, drugs and rock and roll that real talent (or prescription medication, a roofie, and a Metallica disc) will get you. While chillaxin' before the big event, I turn around, and see the backside of a beautiful young Asian woman. I hummed "Rock you like a Hurricane" in my excitement, as she slowly turned around. One look at her teeth, and the tune changed "Welcome To The Jungle". They looked like crushed Oreos, mixed in with chicklets, and chewed Skittles. Although making out with that would be disturbingly delicious, I couldn't help but feel repulsed, as she smiled in our direction. After a few racial slurs, the typical "Guitar Hero" crowd started to arrive. Anyone who's been to the Wal-Mart Game Section lately should know what I'm talking about. But just in case you live under a rock, I'll make a list.

The Prep

-----

Bio: This bi-sexual person frequents stores such as Hollister, and Aeropostal, and is usually accompanied by six or more amazingly hot high school girls wherever he goes. He wears overly-tight clothing in order to showcase his toned bod, but nobody gives a crap, since his equally Mall-Obsessed, and uber hot girlfriend's rack is draped over his face.

Interests: The Mall, MTV, Reality Television, secretly guys.

Conclusion: If I were him, I'd be spending less time mastering my Guitar Hero skills, and more time trying to convince his girlfriend to participate in some multiplayer co-op action. His poor life decisions will only ensure his destiny: In five to ten years, he'll be bagging my groceries, eagerly awaiting a promotion that will never come.

The Wannabe

-----

Bio: A high school freshman eager to rise to popularity. His favorite band is Coheed and Cambria, but he also likes bands such as Good Charlotte, and Sum41. He's a quiet one, probably a future pedophile, and single-handedly defines the term "Douche". The only thing that blows more than his Guitar Hero skills, is my last date, who left me with a fake phone number, and a mysterious rash.

Interests: Stupid bands like Green Day, he and his dad's secret party's, Harry Potter.

Conclusion: Twenty bucks says he'll turn out better than me, pass school with flying colors, become a Harvard Graduate, Marry a Trophy wife, and become a huge success in the business world. But all that won't change the fact that he sucks at Guitar Hero.

The Follower

-----

Bio: This type of person is quick to jump onto the wagon of the next popular thing. His musical interests are often defined by television networks such as MTV and FUSE. Usually between the ages of 14 and 25, this type of person enjoys singing the songs as he plays, can't maintain a relationship for more than a month, and has a long-standing crush on the lead singer of Evanescence.

Interests: My Chemical Romance, Wii, Anime, "TXTing", Desperate Housewives, the latest craze.

Conclusion: I could take him.

And so the games begin.

First up, the stupid track "Mississippi Queen". This song sucks, I never play it, and anyone who likes it should be shot. Captain McDouchebag next to me is busy missing every other note, while trying to act like he knows what he's doing. Not only did I basically play with my eyes shut, but I could have beaten the kid with my toes. Next, it's me and a random noob, who promptly shoves his size 6 up my butt. The one track I never play. Who in the world knows CLIFFS OF DOVER? 

"Oh, I'm going to go home and play CL1FF5 0F D0V3R LOL!".

After swallowing a foot-long, the games continue without us, as the random noob takes on The Prep (who's slaughtered everyone he played.) The noob got kicked hard in the whammy bar, and suffered a poor third place. The prep and his six-girl crew accept the first prize: A new, used guitar, valued at $49.99. Odds are since he can't play it, he'll sell it on eBay. But I'm determined to get the last laugh: I'll win the auction, have him ship the item, and leave him bad feedback; tarnishing his perfect reputation, and causing him to slit his wrists and die. In conclusion: I win. :D

Rambo 4

So I just saw Rambo 4 last night, and let me tell you, it was the greatest hour and a half of my life I've put towards a movie in years. It all starts out, John Rambo's minding his own business playing with some dangerous snakes in a box, when this skimpy, cockmuffin missionary guy walks up to him with an attitude. "HAY RAMBO I HERD U LIEK 2 RETN BOATZ, CN I RNT URZ PLZKTHXBAI?". Rambo declines his offer as soon as he hears they're heading into Burma. Why? Because Burma is a freakin' war-zone. But that doesn't matter. Saint Douchebag the Third goes on a tangent, about how peace needs to overcome the darkness. Meanwhile, Johnny Rambo's getting his ripped bod checked out by none other than a hot missionary honey. Why is she important? Because who else is going to seduce Rambo into sailing into a war-zone, potentially risking his life, and hence setting the plot for a box-office hit? The only hot chick on the continent, of course! After flaunting her flat chest in his face (Rain scene and white top? *Cough*), Rambo agrees, and sets sail into Burma. At night, they come across a group of Burmese Pirates (ORLY?), who immediately spot the girl who Rambo's got the bulge for. A subtitled exchange in a foreign language begins:

Chink Leader: Look! A woman who doesn't smell like week old cheese! Bring her here! Bring her here!

Rambo: Take what you want, and leave her alone.

Chink Leader: STFU! Rape nao kthx

Rambo: Eat lead, douchebag!

Miraculously, Rambo manages to pick up his weapon, and blast the pirate, instead of the other way around. He saved his woman's life, but what's this? The arrogant missionary guy from before gets all in his face for killing the pirate. WTF! They were all going to die, the girl was going to be taken and raped, and all this guy could do is blubber on about crap like "saving lives" and calling him a "sinner". I guess Rambo's a better person than I am, because I'd have shot the guy, right there. (Little did Rambo know, that 50 minutes later, the same guy who ridiculed him for killing, finds himself smashing a rock into a soldier's head in fear for his worthless life.) Moving on, Rambo delivers the missionaries to their destination, and without so much of a thanks, they run off. Some friends they are. Rambo decides to wait for the girl's safe return, and spends his time fapping in his boat house.  We now visit the missionaries, who are peacefully providing medicine and treatment to injured natives. A peaceful scene; you can see by the missionary's faces that they feel so great, knowing they're helping people. The camera cuts over to a hut, where we listen in on a teacher, teaching a Bible Story of Jesus. Ten seconds later, the children's heads are flying all over the place, and the missionary gang is captured by this chinky ringleader. A day passes, and in the middle of the night, Rambo gets a visit from some random pastor guy informing him of his "friends'" capture. Five minutes later, Rambo forges his weapons, and gets ready to spill some blood. 

While traveling aimlessly, Rambo comes across a pair of Level-Two Chink Flunkies, who are busy playing an explosive game with their captured slaves. He promptly sends a bow into each of their heads, receiving 420 EXP, and moves on: Eventually meeting up with the missionary gang. While a huge battle undergoes, Rambo and the gang fight for survival. He quickly commandeers a turret, and literally evaporated all of the troops. Only one remains, the leader. Instead of blowing his brains out from afar, Rambo gets on foot and chases the guy down. Commander Chink is stabbed deeply in the stomach by Rambo, and the two stare each other down. After 15 seconds of making out, Rambo slices the guy's stomach open, and he bleeds profusely. The wound is so bad, the guy's intestines fall out onto the dusty floor. How epic is that? He's finished off by a boot to the face, and you watch his severed body twist all over the place in mid-air. The theater cheers, and the girl in the front row takes her top off, as Rambo meets up with the missionaries once again, and they make amends. With the war over, Johnny Rambo decides to head on back to his home state of Arizona, only to find out his only relative, his Father is dead. But that's nothing, this is the guy who watched 300+ people die in a day. Rambo, unfazed, walks off in the middle of a highway, and smiles as the credits roll. Even if the movie isn't as awesome as I made it sound, go see it anyway. It was one of the best films I've seen to date.