Tuesday, April 27th

::The Brak Blog::


Yes. 2 Blogs in one week.
Good for me, Bad for you.

Psycho Sid the Drywall Guy was over a few days ago. Doesn't he sound like some kind of comic book hero? Psycho Sid, the Crazy Dry-Waller of the West! His weapon would be drywall and that little blunt-knife thing they use to smooth the stuff, and he'd fight against the evil forces of... holes in the wall... and water damage... and stuff.

Regardless of how bitchin' a title Psycho Sid the Drywall Guy has, because of his repair job my kitchen looks like some house that got bombed out in an air raid. It also smells like paint. I come home to something out of a WWII picture archive with the air of sawdust and glue all around. It's horrible and depressing. It also means that anything in the kitchen has been moved to one of three rooms, so making dinner is a bit of a feat.

Go out into the family room to get the napkins.
Into the kitchen to get the silverware.
Out to the dinning room to get the placemats.
Back to the living room the use the microwave.
At this point I've shredded through the plasticwrap that covered the doorways to keep out the dust.
They all have a perfectly shapped Tom-sized holes in them, for easy transit.

"My home life is unsatisfying."

Last week the administration decided we have a half day, for some odd reason. Whatever, it means less work for Tom so we all go with it. After school was out, we hit up Chubby's for lunch. Note: Chubby's is the new Winsteads, because their food is better, cheaper, comes in larger quantities, and they respect kids, unlike the assholes at Winsteads. *fuckers*

After a very excellent Bacon Cheeseburger (yes, as many animals as humanly possible died to feed me), we decided to head back to my place, but were then side tracked. We pull up next to Sean Bucklew [again, I know I didn't spell his name right, but screw it] and he notices/recognizes us, and flips us off. Paula, Emily, Katie, Lizz, and I all unanimously follow suit, to return the favor. Then he tries to lose us on the Plaza, but we chase his ass down. Racing down Warnall, racing down Main, it was like some scene out of a movie. At about 69th and Stateline we decided it wasn't worth dying/getting busted by cops, and Emily had to piss, so we pulled over into a church parking lot.

Next to this church this is Arno Park. A really random-ass park, but nonetheless cool. It started raining, and there was mass-frolicing. Followed by Lizz and I collapsing, because we don't get any sort of regular physical excercise and are subsequently wimps. Back to The Radiksulls house where we retrieve fire-making equipment, and the dead foosball man.

This foosball man, call him Frank, died in the line of duty under the command of Katie Fritts. He was a good man, all he did was kinda smack that little plastic ball with his only lower appendage [and I mean only], but that was all he really had to do. He died doing what he loved, and that's what was important. Initially we had planned for a viking funneral, but all large bodies of water had people around them, and would have made fire a bad idea. We didn't just want to throw him into the water, so we went the fire-without-water route, rather than water-without-fire, and burned the crap out of him.

At 69th and Warnall there's an old bridge they blocked off to cars, but you can still walk under it. It wasn't wet yet, so this made it ideal for fire. We put Frank on the ground, and I sprayed him down with that condensed air stuff, only I turned it upside down so it came out like a liquid.

A highly flameable liquid.

With a click of the lighter, *foosh* up he goes. The burst of flame was cool; the smoke inhalation was not, and it didn't actually burn the guy. So we tie this little rag around him, soak that in the accellerant, and then light it. Burst of flame, followed by slow incineration. Smelled like ass, and there was lots of smoke, but it left a most-bitchin' singe mark, and we melted Frank down pretty good.

Back at my house we looked at all my old Star Wars action figures for some reason [no clue why], and proceeded to watch a really crappy movie I don't feel inclined to mention. Then Lizz and I went out and rented BladeRunner. Wow. That is one jacked movie. Very well made, but the story was undescribably odd.

Quality: 4/5
Group Fun: 3/5
Single Fun: 2/5
Overall-Awesomeness: 3/5

This movie was very well made, like outrageously. I lent it to Sean, lying to him that it was awesome and great and amazing, and he watched it. His comment was that a lot of later sci-fi borrowed from it, which is a credit to the film, but not quite redeeming enough. The story is overtly complicated for such a simple plot. What's the differeance? Story: Harrison Ford takes 2 hours tracking little clues and doing detectivy work and chasing people. Plot: Harrison Ford kills robots. End of story. So it just seemed like for all the story work there should have been some kind of underlying deally, but there wasn't.

In groups, this movie is fun because of some of the outrageous instances of violence/nudity are good for making fun of, but by yourself these only serve to confuse you more... However, the movie is pretty good in the end. Harrison Ford kicking the shit out of robots is awesome any way you turn it.

The next morning I hung out with Sean.
For once in my life I'm going to censor the entry, because it might get Sean in more trouble than he already is, and having SV banned from the 'net for some other ungodly long period of time isn't worth one brief instance of blogness, so I'll just tell that story later.

After that though, Lizz and I decided to go find out what they do at Harte Hanks. Harte Hanks is the giant industrialized looking blob that 79th ends at. It's really weird, and we go past it all the time, so we decided to go in and see what their deal is. Turns out the front door is locked. All the time. You need a swipey-key-card thing to get in. Defeated, we leave, and proceed onto 'Mission Electronic'.

This place looks like a distribution center for something awesome like bazookas disguised as duffle bags or whatever. Or maybe cellphones that double as hand grenades. It just screams "something awesome and illigal comes from here" so we looked into it. Also locked. 0/2, we were angered at the amount of lockage these buildings posessed.

After doing a donut in Harte Hanks' parking lot, some lady came out for a smoke break. We got out and asked her what they do in there. Her answer was not what we expected, but in hindsight it makes sense. They do advertising stuff. They print adds, put them in envelopes, and have them distributed for other companies. They make Real-Mail-Spam. Neato.

As we were driving away, the lady turned to her friend that had just come outside, points in our direction and laughs. What dumbfucks we must be for wondering about Harte Hanks. Oh well. A movie marathon followed this, and then I got a S'mores Maker. Lizz's parents were either very generous or very drunk while they were at the auction, and I got a S'mores Maker out of the deal.

I made fun of it all the way home. Seriously: I already have a S'mores Maker. It's called a microwave! Geez. Upon closer inspection though, this mysterious appliance is nothing more then a scam.

Tip-Off #1 was that it doesn't even come with food. What's up with that?! I bought an appliance, where's the demo-food?!

#2 was that the people on the box looked too happy. Nobody get's that excited over a s'more. Nobody.

#3 Reason Not To Buy This Thing is that it doesn't even come with fire, which is kinda the point. The flame-cooker-thing isn't included, so all it really is is a spinny plate, some bowls for s'more-making-material, and a metal pot with a grate on top for the flame thing.

All of which are completely useless, because it comes equiped with neither food nor fire, the two key components in s'more making. The sad thing being... some day I'm gonna bite the bullet and go purchase both. I have this weird complex about free stuff. If it's free food, I have to eat it, because the day I don't will be the day I'm hungry later and have to pay for food. If it's free S'mores-Makers, then the day I give it away [to some other dumb bastard] is the day I'm going to have to throw a s'mores party for a friend that just got their colon removed or something weird like that.

How I get myself into these situations, I have no clue.

On sunday, we had to go hang signs around school for Becca's campaign for treasurer. Upon getting there, I realize that this will be no simple task. There are some prime spots of real-estate that would make excellent places for signs, and I was determined to get them first. It was like a scene from that one crappy Ron Howard movie, Far and Away, staring Tom Cruise and Nichole Kiddman. The movie was about the great rush for land during the 1900's or whatever, and during this one scene there were a bunch of guys on horses all John Wayne like.

Someone shot off a gun, and they all ran, and when they found the chunk of land they wanted, they stuck a flag in it, and it was theirs for free. If you dropped your flag, you didn't get land. "No flag, no country." Anyway, that's what it felt like going and slapping posters up all over the school. I knew I'd gotten too into it though when I realized I'd finished hanging all my signs in half the time it took everyone else.

All because I watched that stupid Ron Howard movie. DAMN YOU RICHIE CUNNINGHAM!

Now, we'll wrap this all up with a witty anecdote. A friend of mine, Josh Tyson, who is totally awesome and everyone should go to St. Louis to meet, reminded me of this, and I decided to share.

In the 4th grade I think it was, we ate lunch together like the 4th Grade Trash we were. During conversation I would frequently express my sense or feeling of awe by using the word "Neato!" And this isn't the sarcastic 'neato...' I use to express disinterest, this was a whole-hearted NEAT-FUCKING-O!. Sans fucking, because we were in the 4th grade, and I wouldn't hear that word for a whole nother year.

Anyhow, Josh took to telling me to shut up everytime I said this, because it annoyed him. It got to be a running joke though, so I'd ham up my 'Neato' allowing Josh to shout from across the table "Shut up Tom!" And so conlcudes the one interesting story I have from gradeschool.

In 2005, vote
Psycho Tom: The Cowboy Guy
He's Neato!
*Shut up, Tom!*

As was prophesized by Tom at 09:34 PM CST
[Unique Link]

Thursday, April 22nd

::The Brak Blog::

Who's There

Hello again, Radiskull here.
I'm writing this entry against my better judgement, being that I don't think I presently have enough material to come up with a blog of the standard level of quality [or lack thereof], but I'm going to anyway because it's been a week. There had better damn well be something noteworthy that happened in the past week or so.

First things first, .brak//SIGN has recieved a rather important additon. Since mid-way through freshman year there have been a few of us playing this incredibly awesome game called [Eat Poop You Cat], and I finally got around to scanning a few of these games and putting them online. That link in the last sentance will take you to the page with links to our scans, the rules and history of the game, and a mailing link to send us your own EPYCs. Also: Lizz supposedly has a ton of the old ones sitting around, so I'll try and nab those and get 'em scanned and online.

I realized that I'm turning into my father. This revelation was brough on me the other day on account of the fact that, with my father being gone 4/7 days of the week [avrg.], I've taken to using all of his witty little sayings myself. If the metamorphisis ever becomes complete, I'm asking you all, as my friends, to bash my head in with a shovel, because I can not become my dad. He's a cool guy for the most part, but if I were ever that uptight about everything, I'm sure I'd want to be killed.

The Miege One-Acts were good. I've decided that if theater were that entertaining all the time, I'd go see it more often. I'm still more of a film person, but funny is funny, and you can't argue with that. On that note: Ethan needs to wear capes more often; and he's quite dashing in red. [Whereas Red=FLAMING(ly Gay)... *cough*]

Now we need a little time devoted to parks, because I spend to much time there, as a result of their awesomeness. The first story is better than the second, but I'm a bitch to cronology, so just go with it. A while back Lizz and I were at Loose Park at some ungodly hour of the night, which isn't anything usual, but this particular outing was surreal. The second we get out of the car, there's an explosion in the distance.

[No, it wasn't someone getting shot at the 7-11 at 63rd and Oak...]

There were fireworks. It musta been April 17th, not a national holiday or anything, and someone was having this hugeass fireworks show at like 10:45 at night. If anyone can shed light on this, the community as a whole [mostly me, maybe Lizz] will be forever thankful. So we just stood there, watching the fireworks as the kept... exploding and stuff. For some reason it felt wrong to walk away while they were still going, so we watched the whole thing. About then a security guy pulled up and we quickly walked away, not wanting to get busted for some non-existant curfew law.

This was to be a severe mistake. We meandered around to the other end of the park, trying to wait out the rentacop. Eventually he came over to where we were, but only to make sure there were no bums sleeping in the tennis courts. Dodged a bullet on that one, or so it would seem. Thinking we were in the clear in terms of getting busted, we just sat a while longer, until another car pulled up.

I jokingly turn to Lizz and say "I bet he's here for a drug deal." Seconds later another vehicle pulls up, 2 people exit their respective automobiles, and we got up to leave quickly, because I was probably righter than I thought. En route back to the car, I noticed one of the gates to the parking lot by the pavillion was chained shut. 'Curious,' I thought to myself. We get to the car, and I tell Lizz to go out the other exit.

Which is also chained shut. Note the use of the word 'other', implying that there were only 2 exits. Both chained shut. At 11:30 at night. Earlier, the security gaurd must have been locking them as we scurried away. I spring into action like a poorly formulated Marvel Super Hero though. Humming the theme to Flash Gordon I quickly surveyed both exits, looking for a route to bypass the chained gates. Finding one, I told Lizz to back up the car, and straighten that sucker out, because jumping curbs in Missiouri is not one of your ordinary holiday games.

Warnall was finally clear, I gave her the signal, and holy shit was it glorious. The car went across the grassy part, sailing over the curb, making a satisfying scrape noise as it made contact with the poorly-kept city street. I chased her over onto a side street, hopped in the passenger's seat, and away! So concludes the law-breaking, curb-jumping portion of the blog.

The second story is similar, except it's Lizz and I wandering around Shawnee Mission Park during the day, finding out that that place is uncannily filled with people, even during the middle of the day, on a Monday no less.

Later on, during this week, my mom's cell phone was sitting on the table, turned on in case Erin needed to call from play practice or whatever. It rings, so I pick it up, and I answer with one of my typical answers I have saved up, just for Erin.

"Perv's Porn Pallace. Hot Azns 49 on sale for just 9.99. How may I help you?"

"WHAT?!" [Yelled in a drunken voice]

"Stop calling me! You can't have the baby!"

Some day she's going to go crazy and kill a bunch of people, and it's going to be my fault. But the funny thing being, this time it wasn't Erin on the phone. This is highly weird because no one else has that number except my dad... who was in CT, so it couldn't have been him. It turned out to be some guy who wanted to know if he'd reached (number). I told him I didn't know, because it was the cell phone and he had the wrong number. He asked again, so I hung up. Fucker.

Phone rings again. Freaky. I turn the thing off.

This is reminiscent of the other weird phone calls I've gotten in the past. Once, a long time ago, I picked it up and some little girl was on the line. I said "Hello?" and she replies: "Ho ho, bitch bitch." *click* I just stood there, dumbfounded. That was almost as good as the time Danny Morris prank called me and said some lame pokemon joke [I was a fan, so sue me], and I Star-69-ed him, and yelled at his dad about how he shouldn't let strange and retarded children use his phone.

But nothing tops the calls I get from the Missouri State Penitentiary. Those are the keepers. They come collect too, so it's like:

RobotVoice: "You have a collect call from *loud grunting sound, recorded by the sender* at the Missouri State Penitentiary. Please hold to take the call." At the time I was like... 7, and had no idea what a collect call was, so I stayed on. When the call got put through I heard the most incoherent string of curses I'd ever heard at the ripe old age of 7, and was totally freaked out.

Looking back on that now, it's immensely entertaining, but when I go psycho and kill a bunch of people, they'll trace it back to that, and everyone will be all "Oooooh. That explains it. Tom Hogan... what a fucker."

Today/Yesterday Katie F. [whose last name I refuse to spell, because it'll get spelled wrong no matter how hard I try] went about repairing Claudia. The Claudia that Lizz killed. Now she has a plastic cover in her frame, so when Lizz tries to kill her again in a fit of jealous rage, we can avoid any more bloodshed.

She also came up with a campaign slogan I'm determined to use:

Tom Hogan- Putting the 'F-U' in 'fun'! [Expect a fun graphic of that to show up eventually, just in time for me to run for StuCo president in 2005]

Wow. That entry turned out longer than I'd expected. And I also realized there's no real point to these little outros. [Like as in the opposite of Intro, Outro, just fucking go with it.] You know then entry's over when you see the cowboy thing... so... I guess I should just start ending right with the cowboy thing.

Girlfriends are for Emo Kids.
Outros are for losers.
Calls from the Penitentiary are reserved for Cowboys.

As was prophesized by Tom at 10:27 PM CST
[Unique Link]

Thursday, April 15th

::The Brak Blog::

Red Oyster Cult

Wow. We have some 40-odd days left in the school year and I am officially burned out.

I've lost all willpower to do the constant onslaught of equasions in chemistry.
Religion class has boiled down to one giant argument.
German just bores me to tears.
Edmonds is starting to grow on me... Something is wrong.
Wars. People dying. History. DON'T CARE!
Comprehension of Algebra. HA! That's a joke...
No more Forensics Touraments. What's the point?

Fucking hell.
I curse to much.
Fucking hell anyway.

I'm screwed if I can't pull through this last month of school.
Case in point: I'm screwed.

On a lighter note... random shit has happened to me as always, and I'll recount these events for you now. To kick things off, .brak//SIGN has been moved to the local directory here on the domain. I got rid of the crap I thought was stupid and added an FAQ section, among other things. If you've never browsed the stuff in there, I recomend you take a look. Even if you have, there are still a few new things. [Promise]

This past weekend at both forensics touraments I attended [2 separate ones!] I drew the most fucked up question ever. On friday it read: "Will the Earth miss a narrow collision with an undetected asteroid?" I was tempted to use it, but alas, I did not. Besides... how much do you think we have in the crates about asteroid-collisions?

Saturday... for some absurd reason I break to finals. I draw 3 questions. One about the Maritime Protection Act... which I know nothing about. One about Arnold and his plan for economic recovery in California, which I also knew nothing about, so I was really counting on this last question. The last question asked:

"How did the Earth miss a narrow collision with an asteroid?"

So it was Asteroid or Arnold. I had to pick Arnold. And go and get 3rd in DX. Fscking DX!! Whatever. All this talk of asteroids made me wonder though... perhaps there really is a threat.

Bullshit. Doesn't anyone remember Deep Impact or Armageddon?! They made those movies to freak people out when we thought we were going to get smashed into a million little tiny pieces and nothing ever happened. NOTHING. I was pumped for the Apocolypse, and I got jack. If my opinion isn't enough for you, which it should be, I found an [Article About Asteroids Hitting Earth].

In english last week we were over-analyzing poetry as usual, and the victum of the day was Emily Dickinson. Initially one would be inclined to sympathize with Emily, having her work figuratively torn apart by angsty teens that know vitrutally nothing, but then we must also recall that she's a gimp, so I think it all evens out in the end.

Anyways, Edmonds is telling us what's what, and she describes Emily Dickinson as someone who "Was very seculded from the world. She sat in her room, because being a rich snob she didn't have to work, and observed the people, because she's a weirdo-creepy, and how they acted, and wrote sappy, bitchy, whiney poetry about it."

Sound familiar? One word kids. Two actually.
Fucking EMO!
Emily Dickinson was totally the first [Emo Kid] ever.

So, hanging out in german class at the start of this week, and we notice that our Claudia Shiffer [schwing! She's a babe!] picture that we gave to Mr. Provencher had somehow lost its stand. The previous week we'd attempted to hold her up by supporting the frame on a coffee mug. Wade bumped the table and knocked it over, so we thought Claudia had better just lay flat, as opposed to facing a rather unpleasant fall down towards, and the abrupt meeting with, the floor.

Lizz though, thought otherwise. She stood Claudia back up, even though I told her that we tried that and it didn't work. SHE WOULDN'T LISTEN TO MY CONSERVATIVE VOICE OF REASON!

30 seconds into class, we here this sickening scrape noice... followed by a slam. We all slowly crane our knecks towards the front of the classroom, and there is poor Claudia. Her babe-dom all but shattered, quite literally. In such a precarious position, she had slipped and fallen, and broken her frame. Thanks for NOTHING Lizz. Right now Claudia is just sitting on the table, with a pile of broken glass on top of her. We're narrowed down the options now to re-framing her, or giving her a viking funneral...

On a german-side-note, someone wrote a poem about Mr. Provencher that I found particularly comical:

Mr. P is very weird
He likes to cut off his 'ihr'
He has no girlfriend.

That afternoon I decided I needed some new music, and being that SamGoody was put out of business by the cheap, under-cutting, quality-lacking music section at Target, I had to trek to the price-gouging Barnes&Noble. I got my Guster CD and was satisfied. On the way out there was this lady on the street playing the sax. She wasn't particularly excellent or totally awesome, but I gave her points for trying.

I saw her little box, opened up with pamphlets and stuff, and I can never tell if they want money or not. Like maybe some of them are all touchy and artsy and are just there to play and would get offended if you threw some money in their box. I checked and the lady had money in her box, so I gave her a dollar.

Then I remembered how I didn't give any money to the homeless dudes in front of the store a few blocks back. Why... do you ask? First off the homeless dudes are scary. They just freak me out and I dunno why. But then I also realized that sax lady fucking deserved it. She wasn't awesome, but she was trying her best. What were the homeless guys doing? Shaking styrafoam cups at me, and yelling words I couldn't understand.

Homeless dudes, if you want your dollar, you'd better fucking earn it. I don't care what you do, sing, dance, read from the bible, I don't care, but there's no such thing as a free lunch, and while you may or may not be down on your luck, that doesn't concern me. You earn your keep like the sax lady.

Yesterday was an especially good day. For some odd reason, Sean's mom forgot to come get me and Sean, so we had to bum a ride off of Lizz [...it's like the start to some weird horror movie]. On the way back, I felt like ice cream, so I demanded we go and retrieve the magic substance of deliciousness. Sean didn't want any, so me and Lizz sat on a bench and ate ours while Sean went to look at rockets or something in Toy & Science.

While we were sitting there, Ben Reddler comes by and after a friendly greeting, makes a grab for my ice cream! I kinda freak out and pull it back, but he gets a hold of it and starts to pull it away from me. I, being extremely protective of my sugary treat, pull back to keep him from getting it. The result is a shattered ice cream cone in my hand, and a sadistic smile on Ben's face.

I had to practically eat the thing whole to keep it from soaking through the little paper cone-cover that was all that was standing between me and a hand full of half-melted ice cream. After that we dropped Sean off, and then it was onward to the park. The park today was full of not Narcs, but regular people. Outside, playing, enjoying the nice weather. Needless to say, Lizz and I were pissed.

Where were these people at 10:40 at night, when it was 45 degrees out, and the Narcs were having Narc Fest '04? They were at home, inside, while we were out enjoying the park. We are hardcore fans of Loose Park. Rain or shine, hot or cold, school or NO school, NARCS OR NO FUCKING NARCS, we are there. And on the one day when our patience has been rewarded, and there is nice weather, enter the Stupid park-posers... they've got no right to be there.

Which leads us to today. Movie, or Porn?
At lunch today, we were talking about 'Deep Throat', which was both a feature film, and an adult film. So someone would shift gears to talking about one or the other, and we'd have to repeat the question: "The Moive or the Porn?" Upon doing this for quite a few times, we realized that this can be applied to so many other things.

Examples have, at present, left me, but try asking it randomly at the end of conversations. It's bound to be interesting.

For some ungodly strange reason, Cameron decides today is the day he wants to make friends. After being repeatedly annoying, rude, vulgar, and disgusting, he "Wants to join our clique." Shyeah! Right! And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt! I don't mean to be all self-righteous and judgemental, but after him being the worlds biggest Sphincter-Boy for the past year and 7 months, I don't think we should be obligated to be the worlds most inviting crowd of people.

He asks me to check out a book for him. I ask why he can't check them our himself. Mumbling. Why can't you check them our yourself? "They won't let me... *mumble*" Well lets stop and think for one fucking minute.


Thought about it? Good job! I came to the same conclusion. Maybe there's a reason why you're no longer allowed to check out pointless and absurdly lame WWII books. I mean, I could be wrong on this one, but there might just be logical explination for that: Perhpas its because you never return them, or never pay your fees, resulting in your ban from your use of the service; This is actually quite a common practice, even in real libraries, which you've also apparently not heard of.

When he asked the question why people are so put off by him, I told him I didn't know, but that there was probably a reason for that too. I also like how myself and all of my friends were sterotyped by him to be "The edgy teenager crowd with our leftist views and punk music." He offered to be our 'Conservative Voice of Reason'. Like hell. *Takes Conservative Voice of Reason's NRA-issued firearm and KILLS the Conservative Voice of Bullshit*

Honestly, I don't mean for this to be a Cameron bash-fest [which it's manifested into regardless, but whatever], because picking on people just for the sake of being a dick is mondo-lame, but he brought this upon himself...

Today in history Sean asked Mrs. Sullivan if Joe McCarthy was a republican. She answered yes, followed by Cameons mumbling voice from the background: "Don't even start..." Which then inspired me to make a list of all the things that probably annoy Cameron:

1. The fact that Joe McCarthy was a republican.
2. The fact that conservativism in general sucks donkey.
3. The fact that he has to explain his own jokes... that aren't funny
4. The fact that he is shunned because of...

If you are Cameron and were offened by this, go blow yourself, I don't care. If you are a conservative [of the non-asshole variety] and were offended, I'm sorry, but what can I say... I'm a Pinko.

You know what rocks hard?
     ...wait, the Movie or the Porn?

As was prophesized by Tom at 09:35 PM CST
[Unique Link]

Sunday, April 4th

::The Brak Blog::

Moonage Daydream

Once again I'm here to deliver you random thoughts soaked in curse words with a side of sarcasm.

So a few things happened in religion class... again. Of all the places for interesting this to happen, this is where they occur most frequently. How interesting. In any case, on tuesday Rachel returned my 2-Disk Set of Queen's Greatest Hits [From Hollywood Records... I highly recomend]. This also happens to be the day Mr. Hashman decideds to give us typed notes, instead of making us write them, and subsequently we basically got a free period.

Realizing this, I went to my locker to retrieve the myriad of homework assignments that I'd neglected to do the previous night. But while in the locker, I couldn't help but notice the glint of the golden cover of the Queen-Goodness. I grabbed it absent-mindedly, and returned to class.

After a brief exchange of words between Lydia and myself, we decided to con Hashman into letting us listen to Queen. Turned out it didn't take much conning, and he was surpisingly receptive. So we listened to the CD. Appropriatly, the first track is Bohemian Rhapsody. Unless you're name is Ethan, you probably love this song.

Eventually, we 3/4 of the class singing, about half of us were rocking out hard, and there were a select four of us that probably hurt ourselves with the massive amount of headbanging that took place. Soooooo Good! Mr. Hashman let us listen to it the entire hour, and fairly loud too, so I figure maybe I'll give him a second chance [before you become misled, please read the entire blog for clarification].

I drag it with me to Provencher's class, where he makes us listen to 'Under Pressure', but we didn't finish it so he said we could listen to the rest the next day. I make note to be a horse's ass about this until he makes good on this promise. Similarly, we get through the first 45 seconds of Bohemian Rhapsody in Edmonds's class of all places, and I get the same promise, to which I attach the same mental note.

The next day, Provencher made good, but he wanted to listen to Under Pressure over and over, so I put my foot down. We rocked. Off to Edmonds, who also makes good on her promise. I realized that a chance such as this was never going to come along ever again, so 4:08 minutes into the song, [for those without a recording, it's when they kick it ultra-hard] I stood up at the front of the class, and jumped.

I came down out of the air [seconds later, I'm told] while striking a Mighty Air Guitar Chord of Justice. Followed by rocking. When I stopped spazing for a second, I realized everyone was staring at me. It was totally awesome.

So, the perfect end to a perfect day: Reconciliation. I go to catholic school and do not believe in catholicism: Insert generic bitching. Today sucked especially though because Hashman had something mean crammed up his ass and was taking it out on everyone else. It was here that I remembered I was giving him a second chance. Seconds later a little 'Fuck No' popped into my head. ...And the fact that I seriously considered giving him a second chance made me feel better about... not... giving him a second chance.

In chemistry the other day we were introduced to a giant glass bowl with a lid. Let's call it Thing A. Inside of Thing A you place Thing B, which sucks all the moisture out of the air and keeps it dry or whatever. One is called the Dessicant, the other the Desicator. I still do not know which is which...

In any case, doesn't The Desicator totally sound like a pro wrestler's name?!


Then I realized that that was going nowhere, so I stopped. Every time I hear/type/read that word though, I can't help but thing of folding chairs, exacto-knives, and SCRIPTED SPORTS...

Every year, the state of Kansas feels compelled to asess it's students. Even those in the private schools that it can't do anything about. Realizing that they can't do shit about the private scores though, they decided to start printing scores in the paper, to like... embaress/motivate us or whatever.

screw that

I'm from Missouri, bitches... So the Kansas Assesment Text became my creative playground. Every page had random and mildly profane song lyrics on it, and even more had senseless quotes taken out of context entirely. I had fun. Just the other day they made us do this more localized one that would be graded in school. I have a feeling I'm going to be getting a letter home for this one... (Questions were whats on the test, Answers are what I actually wrote on the paper)

Question 1: The meat at the grocery store costs blah money. It's sold at 25% off initial price for a sale. Manager tells Deli Man to raise the price 25%. Deli Man just sells it for the inital price. Was he correct in doing so?

Answer 1:
Obviously not. [actual reason why] ...and that's why you do not employ illigial aliens.

Question 2: Some crap about boats and radar...

Answer 2:
[Answer] And by the way... It's like that one scene from "The Hunt for the Red October", you know?

Question 3: Stupid classroom children are collecting stupid cans. We have made a stupid chart about it. Please answer the following stupid questions.

Answer 3: I answered all the damn questions but one. It wanted a 'box and wisker' graph. Shyeah, right. Under that one I wrote: "I have no idea what the hell a 'Box and Whisker' graph is, so instead I'm going to compensate by drawing a cat and a cardboard box. Please enjoy."

I hope I get the paper back, because it was a good drawing. After that I calculated how much they could cash the cans in for in the state of Maine [came out to like 500 bucks] and wrote a little letter to some stupid girl from another question about why she was such a moron for thinking she could win the soda pop contest with only 240 bottles, when there were 1000's entered into the contest.

I can't wait for the trouble this will cause...

Perhaps you remember the previous rant about why Michael York kicks ass. If not, just know that he does. The other day Hashman let us watch the trailer for 'Jesus of Nazereth' where they list all the big names that were in the movie. My ears perk up when I hear 'Michael York' of course, but then 'Peter Ustinov'. PETER USTINOV! OLD MAN! [Logan's run... see it you bastards!] I just thought it was totally weird that both Logan and Old Man were in the Jesus movie together before they were known as Logan and Old Man.

Plus with Logan: I'm reading up on the guy, turns out he was in Romeo & Juliet as Tybalt! The same movie we watched during freshman english! This really excited me for some reason, like maybe Miege has some weird thing for Michael York, which would be totally cool. He has a movie coming out this summer too. Everyone better go see it, Logan's gotta eat, you know?

As you may or may not have noticed, I once more have random refresh banners on the site again. If you miss any of the old ones, or have any requests, it's not as if I've got anything better to do, so lemme know. On the note of site maintinance, I'm going to move .brak//SIGN over here possibly some time this week[end], just depending on when I have the time. Following this will be a definite revamp of that part of the site, which means a meager amount of new material that you perhaps will enjoy.

On a final site-note: If any of you are cruising the archives, which I doubt you are, and you find a broken link, please let me know. This sort of always goes for the entire site, as I'd just like it to have all its links working, but I know for a fact that there are some in the archives, and I'd like to find them. Plus for every busted link you find on the site... I'll give you a piece of chocolate. ReadySetGo!

So after the friday instalment of the Bishop Miege Tournament, [WHICH WE DIDN'T WIN BECAUSE WE DON'T COMPETE AT IT], Lizz and I decided to finally look into 'Flash Gordon' the movie. Before I really get into all of this, it should be noted that Flash Gordon does not equal The Flash. They are totally different. I didn't really catch this until halfway through the movie. Oh well, whatever.

The premise of the movie is that Emporer Ming thinks he owns the universe. He goes around and messes with planets. If the people resist at all, he blows up the planet... which he was going to do anyway so its kinda pointless. Anyway, he's jacking with Earth, and some crazy scientist captures Flash Gordon and his Latest Squeeze and before you know it they're in space captured by Ming.

The best part of the whole movie is the fact that Flash enters the movie wearing a T-Shirt with his name on it. I find this awesome in the context that it's the lamest thing I've ever seen. Anyways, the movie goes on with what fragments of a plot it had left. Flash gets an amazing amount in this moive...
Why I do not know. The Queen-Authored soundtrack really helps, but past that, this movie has very little going for it.

Which is why you must all see it. While it lacks the quote-ability of Logan's Run, it's equally as cheesy, so I highly recomend it for any sort of group-environment-activity, as hilarity will ensue. From now on I'm going to start rating movies on my own special criteria, and this is what I'd say for Flash [Whose middle name better be Allen. Flash Allen Gordon. He'd have the best monogramed shit ever].

Quality [Was it well made]: 2/5
Group Fun [Can large amounts of people watch it and still carry with the story]: 4/5
Single Fun [Is it any good when you're by yourself]: 1/5
Overall-Awesomeness [Would I watch this movie again/ on a regular basis]: 4/5

And so as to put this into perspective, this is how I'd rate the forever-excellent Logan's Run:

Quality: 3/5
Group Fun: 4/5
Single Fun: 3/5
Overall-Awesomeness: 5/5

Thinking of it now... I should start reviewing all the movies I like to watch and put them on .brak//SIGN... 'Best [Type of Movie] Ever' lists would ensue... it would be cool. Look for that when I have some time on my hands.

It should be noted though, that before Lizz and I when back to my house to watch Flash Gordon, we stopped by our favorite night-time-place. Loose Park of course. If you're read of our ventures there, you probably know of the theory we have that it's a Narc Hangout. Before we were kidding. Now we're not. After retrieving the movie, we accidentally walked in on Narc-Fest-2004, I shit you not.

Just as we're pulling up, a huge flame [4-5 feet high] flies up from the grill. Followed by another, and another, and so on. Closer inspection reveals a guy with a can of lighter fluid having himself a good time... Near by their are people playing football... drunken-ly. Loud shitty music can be heard as well. We walk in the opposite direction.

After wandering around in the dark and climing trees and random bantering, we decide to return to the car. Our path takes us dangerously close to the Narcs. We make it to the car alright, but in the 10 seconds that Lizz closed her door and started unlocking mine from inside, the Narc crowd begins to make threatening demands for oral pleasure.

I still don't know if they were asking for it from Lizz... or from me. It was both awkward and mildly frightening, which leads me to my idea: We should totally crusade against the Narcs. If we gather a big enough crowd, we could totally oust them from the park once and for all. West-Side-Story style. Nobody demands anything from the Radiskull... especially not oral pleasure. I'll have my revenge on the Narcs... it's only a matter of time, and effort, and motivation. All of which are a problem for me but whatever!

Insert watching Flash Gordon, then skip forward to the next day at the end of the Miege Tourament on saturday. We were turning off all the lights in the school, when Sean Bucklew [sorry for phonetically spelling your last name...] yells at us to come look at the downstairs math hall in the dark. Wondering about this, Lizz and I creep towards him cautiously, and peek down the hallway.

It was amazing. It was pitch black, except for the exit signs, which cast an eerie red glow on the walls/floor every 30 feet or so. I would liken it to looking at some kind of... Hallway To Hell. Anyway, we go to the end, and remember there's a staircase. Upon further inspection we find the staircase to be dark. As in you can't see your hand in front of your face dark. Lizz and I go in, up the stairs, and realize it's locked.

Running back the way we came, we relay this message to an interested Alisson Kinsky [again, sorry for the last name thing, and probably the first name thing too] and a rather apprehensive April Bauman [think I got that one right]. So what do we do... we drag them along. Down the hell hallway, and into the dark staircase. Note to self: Never go anywhere dark with girls ever. They scream at the slightest provocation. I swear to god I was deaf by the time we got out of that damn place.

I told Ethan that story and he kept claiming we had an orgy.

He's just jealous he wasn't invited.

To the Not-Orgy I mean...

Later on that night we met up with noneother than Ethan himself, and Hank. And it was Hellboy to which we were going. And lo... Hellboy kicked an awesome amount of ass. It was possibly the best comic-book-to-movie port I've seen ever, in the respect that no cheesy moral crap was forced upon me, it didn't rely entirely on action, and it actually stayed true to the inital story line without completely SUCKING. So rock for Hellboy. When it comes out on video, I'll definatly review it.

Fearing another Narc-Encounter, Lizz and I avoided Loose, and rounded out the day at Suicide Hill. The Safe Park. We're meandering around as usual, and we notice these two people. These two very weird people. In matching jumpsuits. They go around the entire park, and then into the middle of it. They looked like they were doing some sort of weird martial-art-umpa-loompa training shit.

And now I don't know what/who to be more scared off, the Narcs, or the Jumpsuit-Twins. But instead of worrying about that, let's argue endlessly about who would win if there was a fight twixt the two. [Please make a note in your comment who you think the victor would be].

There are three great powers in the gallaxy;
The Narcs, the Jumpsuits, and the Cowboys.
    The differance lies in what motivates them...

[Narcotics, Fucked-Up-Ness, and Fun, respectively.]

As was prophesized by Tom at 09:58 PM CST
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