05/31/2004: "Found Out About You"
Hot damn children.
School is over, for now. I now have a precious 3 months to do all that random stuff I said I'd get around to doing over the summer. Like that's really going to happen.
Things I hope to accomplish in terms of site this summer:
The Music Review Section
The Movie Review Section
A Sickening amount of promoting.
Hogan For President (Still In The Works)
The first 2 are kind of self-explanitory, but the third one merits some divulgance.
I'll be the first to admit, I'm unsatisfied with the type of traffic I've been getting. I look at my site, which isn't that great, but it is on a domain (.Com), and the entries do actually feature some real content, as opposed to little 3 or 4 sentance rants.
That being said, I only get about half the traffic some of these fuckers on the damn Xanga get. This shouldn't irk me, because Xanga is the suck, but it finally got to me, so I'm fighting back. I'm waging an all-out ad war against the Xangas of the world. A couple fridays from now, I'm going to be down at the Plaza, handing out flyers. As soon as I get the materials, I'm going to start making stickers that are water resistant.
All in the name of telling Xanga to Go Suck a Fuck.
On my other magical list of stuff to tell you all about, first up is the Meteors. By now I'm sure I've probably at least told you all about this band, or if you're one of the unlucky ones, I've most likely forced you to listen to them. Initially, they were with some different people and called 'The Quintessential Pine Tree Brothers', and they actually made original music. After the Pine Trees broke up though, they briefly reformed to play a couple hilarious cover songs as 'The Meteors'.
[Download Their Music] I promise you it is most awesome.
The other day I was sitting in Algebra II class, contemplating how I no longer give a damn about sinusoidal functions and all that major crapola they dumped on us at the end of the year. I decided instead of taking an uncomfortable, unrefreshing nap on my desk, as I had usually done, that I'd write a little story. I drew inspiration from Ethan and Lizz as we were leaving World History, and I set to work as Mr. Kennedy began his daily banter.
The story that follows is the transcipt of that story. As always, I can't spell worth shit, but the story is somewhat entertaining, so here we go:
And thus begins the saga of Lloyd the space fish...
"Quantum thrusters are cleared for burn," Lloyd said aloud to no one. It'd been rather quiet on the Starship Micron since his parter, Cap'n Tuna, had taken a laser shot to the gill.
All Lloyd could think of was what he was going to do to the bastard who fired that shot when he found him. Punching in the star coordinates of Jupiter, Lloyd grimaced. His moment of pensive vengance was suddenly ended as his ship excellerated rapidly to HSLS, or High-Sub-Light-Speed. This quick pickup made the ship rattle, but Lloyd wasn't scared.
Nothing scared Lloyd. For god's sake... he was a space-goldfish...
A red light started flashing, this was bad. One of the two remaining subspace engines had burned out during the start-up sequence. Typically, were he traveling at any other speed, this would not be an issue; but he had been anxious to get to Jupiter and was traveling at Light Speed. Normal procedure for stopping the ship was to go from Light Speed to Subspace, then finally back to Standard Velocity.
This was rather difficult with only one Subspace Engine, being that the ship was designed to use eight normally.
"Fuck it," Lloyd thought, and he cut all engines. An explosion followed. Begrudgingly, Lloyd climbed into the escape pod and began to the decent to Jupiter's volcanic moon, Io, as the Micron broke up unto bits behind him.
And it was only 9:45... "What a day this is going to be," he thought.
That's my little story anyway. Last weekend Lizz and I finally decided to take a trip and pay hommage to the the Toynbee Tile of Kansas City. (For more information... [Toynbee.Net] has the most exstensive collection) Anyway, there's one of these curious little buggers at the corner of 13th and Grand Ave. in downtown KC. We took a fairly roundabout method of getting there, and it took forever to find a place to park, but it was worth it.
Initially, I didn't think we were going to find it. A little 5 inch by 1 foot tile was what we were looking for, and I wasn't even sure how accurate our location was going to be. After a little inspection though, we found it to be dead on. I didn't have my camera with me, so I can't show you pictures, but we've planned another trip, bringing Joe Heschmeyer in tow, and I can assure you I'll take some good ones.
Also last weekend, Sarah Stites had an acoustic show at her house. I brought friends so we could make fun of Ethan, and it was a really good time all around. I dropped fire on myself, which was good, and Conner/or/r [no idea how he spells it] and Mike Judge played the Whalefish Song. Three cheers for one of the most bitchin' live songs ever.
I mentioned something the other day that recieved an uncannilly receptive reaction. What I had said was that I can create a plethora of email addresses '@BrakBlog.com', and a few people kinda acted like they'd go along with some sort of activity that would get them one of those accounts. In the senseless hope that someone might actually want an email account @BrakBlog.com, I've set up a page where you can [request one].
I noticed that Alison commented on a previous entry of mine, and though I appreciate her visiting this site and leaving feedback, I'm now going to make an example by yelling at her:
"I actually kind of like the raging hormones, but then again, I'm not Catholic so I'm a little more accepting of things.
Also - Johnson County kids are not always that bad. I'm sure some of them say the same things about Missouri kids. -Alison"
1) I really wish I had a better excuse for hating the Raging Hormones other than religion... oh wait, I do. THEY SUCK. Besides, I'm not catholic either, so bite me.
2) Johnson County kids are that bad. I know a lot of my friends are from there, but I'd hope they have the common sense to realize what I say has some degree of truth. Johnson County is the 7th richest county in the nation, as of a week ago. You people have more money than you know what to do with, and it makes you come off as snobby. End of story.
I don't want to get into a big Missouri vs. Kansas thing, because that always ends badly. I'm not saying Missouri is all that great, or that Kansas is really all that bad, but A) Johnson Country is not an accurate representation of Kansas, so don't claim KS-Pride if you're a JoCo fucker and B) don't shit on Missouri because we don't have the money for new cars and houses and expensive TVs and so on and so forth.
3) This should be up with point #1, but boy does it piss me off when people bring religion up as an attacking or defending mechanism.
So the last day of school was this past thursday... and what a glorious day it was. I specifically recal walking out of Mrs. McCoy's room for the last time, and seeing Mr. Steinberg there, just waving good-bye to kids as we left. I saw him, and he saw me. I looked him dead in the eye, threw up my arms, and screamed "wooooo!" and ran off as fast as I could. 20 feet and 1 flight of stairs later, I see Rachel The Kleminator walking down the math hall alone. Typically, I'd wait for her, and we'd highfive.
Today was special though.
I threw down my books and took off running straight at her. She did likewise, and we had the best colision/hug I think ever was or will be. I somehow got home, and Ethan gave me back the bowl, which'll stay here for a portion of the summer. Which reminds me, I need to take a picture of the bowl, so you can all see it and bask in it's majesty.
Now I'm going to do something I'm not in the habit of doing with the blog. For a brief moment I'm going to be somewhat serious. I had a sort of wake-up-call thing the other day and I realized for the past week/month I've been kind of a, well, let's try a complete asshole. If you fall into that aforementioned category of people who I've jacked with, allow me to apologize. I don't like being a fucker, and I promise not to make a habbit of it.
On a lighter note, I figured with sophmore year behind me, a retrospect is in order. This year I began things interestingly enough. The first school-written entry was [Love Missle F1-11]. What I'm going to do now is make commentary on my own writings, so for any of this to make sense, read the above entry first. Do it now. I mean it.
Hour 1: Chemistry
This was my last final, and to be perfectly honest, I was a little sad. Mrs. McCoy, while weird as hell, was actually not that bad. Her little quirks [random 'meow' noises... I'll be she was a cat in a past life] grew on me as the year progressed, and while I'm relieved I won't have to deal with her trying teaching methods, I'm going to miss the fun strangeness of it all [I swear, you'd never seen so many empty cans of quaker oatmeal in your life].
Hour 2: Scripture
I hate religion classes in general, because 1) I never get anything out of them and 2) even if I tried, there'd be nothing to get. First semester, Mr. Sailler made up for this. Second sem. though, Hashman did not. I went up to ask him a question during the final, and all I could do was stare at his hideous soulpatch and skimpy-ass sideburns. *shudder* I think the final verdict on Hashman was that he'd be an OK guy... were he not such a fucker.
Hour 3: German
Provencher started out cool, and then kinda turned evil. Then there was this whole big mess about him getting fired for sexual harassment blah blah blah. I figured whatever, I didn't really care for the guy that much anyway. But on the last day of school, I couldn't help thinking of poor Mr. Provencher. He doesn't seem like the kinda guy that goes out and parties on the weekends... his job's like all he has. So I flagged down my counseler and started telling her that he was really a good guy and doesn't deserve to be fired and stuff... she just kinda smiled at me and said he was coming back next year. I felt better about stuff, and went on my way...
Mark my words: you just know that one's going to come back and bite me in the ass. Hard.
Hour 4: English
This class made me realize I loathe the correct form the written word, hence why the Brak Blog comes complete with gramatical and spelling errors; two flavors for maximum displeasure. Edmonds did turn out to be kinda fun though, like McCoy. She's the kinda lady that if I lived down the street from, I'd go harass and demand lemonade from all the time.
Hour 5: World History
Not really any change here... I still get a kick out of knowing random factoids and having people stare at me with strange looks on their faces. I also get a kick out of Sullivan being a huge pinko.
Hour 6: Algebra II
I really just gave up and turned into a complete slob in this class... though it's not as if I had far to go. Math is only good for science. And science is only good for computers. And computers are only good for bringing me a constant source of porn.
Hour 7: Forensics
I bet I could be really good at this if I tried. Then again, I was never terribly good at the effort gig.
The music scene is still a mess, but I've developed a keener eye for finding what is good nowadays, as well as expanded my collection of what was totally kickin' way back when.
I actually had that radio idea again, independantly, forgetting that I'd written it down already. Sex ed is still lame. Funny story: "My parents think I'm planning on, or actually having, sex." Yeah... good one Tom, tell it again. I didn't go to the 70's mixer last year either...
Because the 80's were so much fucking better.
So passes yet another academic year.
One in which I've accomplished nothing but pissing more people off.
Same thing next year, cowboy.
I'll see you there.