So, here I am sitting in front of my computer screen, and I’m not going to lie, it feels a little weird. No, not because I really don’t use one anymore… Because I’m actually using my Windows 7 HP laptop for something other than using it as a DVR. And to me, well, the keyboard is a little weird, the buttons are a little too spread out, but I guess I will get used to it in writing this, but the old not-so-trusty-anymore Macbook is so easy to navigate and type on. As it turns out, not only is the hard drive set to perpetual level 1 on a toaster, but now the battery has taken its last dump, and the laptop only works if it’s plugged in. Awesome! Funny story, I haven’t used this laptop in so long, the battery has died and am using this one currently plugged in, because I didn’t want to use my macbook plugged in… Makes sense, I guess, for in about 5 hours, when this thing fully charges, yes, 5 hours, stupid thing only trickle charges… Whoever invented that should be shot in the penis. Not to completely demolish all fabric and knowledge of it ever existing, but using a BB gun, and while having an erection, shot directly down the pee-hole from point-blank range. I don’t want massive amounts of blood or anything, maybe pain, maybe, more so just that somehow, magically preferably, they cannot hold urine, and as it is produced, will continuously leak drip by drip onto their pants. Forcing them to wear diapers and not be able to get blowjobs, unless the girl is into golden showers n drinkin pee, I guess. But I guess what is actually weird about this writing sesh is that, well, usually I think of something awesome, amazing, hilarious, life-altering, plain-old-silly, or something to those extents happens, and I feel the need to write a little bit about them, and ramble on for the other 96%. After being held captive by Kim Jong Il, between the dates of March 5 and June 17, I am back on my writing grind, and am willing and hopefully able to flex my literary muscles yet again. Well, while held captive, I was propaganda master of his “regime,” so I guess you could say I was writing, but that was all fiction bull-hockey, not the real-life situations that are my daily grind, that matter oh-so-much to everyone on Earth and are of utmost importance for both National Security and the fate of the free-world. Speaking of which, can anybody teach me how to properly eat an ice pop and type something on the computer at the same time. Apparently I no longer HOLY FUCKING BEETLE JUST JUMPED ON ME! have the ability to do that anymore. I seem to just be dripping lemon-flavored Dora the Explora (cuz she so gansta, yo) DIE FUCKING BEETLE! ice pop all over my white T. No, not the Dem Franchize Boys variant of “White Tee.” but rather a T-shirt that just-so-happens to be white, like the color of my skin. No, no, not the blinding “holy shit put on a shirt” white of my stomach, but rather… Yea, probably that one on second thought… Funny story, was outside MDW wearing no shirt, to “get my base tan on for the beach (because I go oh so frequently…lol)” and I got beater burn. Yes, that is how deep white trash is ingrained in my particular variant of DNA. Thanks mom n dad. Hearts! That and the fact that (what little of) my facial hair (if it can even be considered that) No, never mind, that’s all Mexican, haha, my little Sanchez goin on. It’s all good though, one day, I might be able to grow facial hair and get all the ladies, or I can still pretend I’m not yet 18 and get some underage girls… I like the second idea better, just hope nobody catches on and I def don’t wanna pull an LT on dem hoez. Speaking of which, I guess it now makes sense as to why I’m a pedo: My idol as a child is also a pedo. It all makes sense now! Lean wit it, Rock wit it! Sorry, was talkin about DFB before, and put them on shuffle on my iTunes. Damn snap music and its awesomeness… er, uh, I don’t know that words can describe exactly how it goes, but I can try: Have you ever seen a 900 lb man with a Chihuahua deep-throating his erect penis, a Doberman stuck in his asshole via its tail, running naked across 7 lanes of a highway to get to a broken-down ice cream truck? Neither have I, but I’m sure that I would be unable to look the other way. It’s so bad, yet, well, you just have to watch, and video record it too, of course, just in case he gets hit by a semi haulin 80,000 pounds of freight. Instant Kajillionaire! Yea, so it’s like that, except this has to do more so with the ears, and less so with the eyes. Because, if you could see music, well, it would be weird to say the least, and I would hope it wouldn’t be like one of those gay visualizer/equalizers that windows media player has (does anybody use that anymore(Does that exist anymore?(Should I close these three sets of parenthesis?)Meh, I guess I could.) Did I close them all out yet?) How about now?) I think by now, I’ve close too many.) I’m not gonna worry about it though.) All these sentence fragments are fun!) So, yea, “snap music,” very terrible, slightly entertaining, not sure why. Maybe someone will research this and get back to me, maybe.
What’s been going on in my life… Hmmm… Well, I had Lyme disease, that was awesome! Sleeping + arthritis = my idea of a good time! The other cool part about it, well, there are actually at least two, was the fact that I just had to walk out into the sunlight to get a sunburn, stupid Doxycycline. Was that what it was called? Sounds like it’s a drug, so it’s good enough for me… That’s probably some boner medication, and I just ruined my reputation by saying I took boner medication for 3 weeks straight. Nah, never mind, falso alarmo, I don’t have a positive reputation to be harmed. Haha, fail. Oh, right, an excellent question, what was the other God DAMNIT! Just switched pages and I completely blanked on what I was talkin about, hold up… Oh, right, …cool part about having Lyme and being on meds for three weeks was the fact that I couldn’t really drink much. And in being that I couldn’t really drink much, I couldn’t drink at all. Now, I wouldn’t go out and saying that I’m an alcoholic or anything like that, in fact I might even say I ain’t not none a dem dere alky-mc-holics not never no way. I don’t drink often, but when I do drink, it’s a lot. And let me tell you, I drank a lot the past week(ish), and somehow my tolerance wasn’t really affected at all. Guess it’s like riding a bike, you never forget it, just gotta remember how to do it. That doesn’t actually make sense, but I’m going to let it slide, because that’s how it seems to be, and it is the only logical explanation that I have for it. Is it bad that I’m too lazy to get up, and walk 7 (approximated) feet to the nearest ash tray and properly put out my cigarette, so I just placed it on the ground next to me? I know what you’re thinking, and it’s absolutely correct. I’m in the garage, in a camping chair, and the floor is concrete. (Did I mention that white-trash is deeply rooted in my DNA.?) I mean, think about it. I hadn’t drank for over a month, probably, I now weigh 180-185 pounds, which is a mere fragment of my former self (as high as 240 soph-junior year of college, whenever that was, during my prime.) and something else. Because everything should be in threes. Not sure why, but that’s the way it is. There were three wise men, but I really feel that they were not so wise. You ask why? Let me explain to you: Dudes traveled far far away (St. Matthews 2:11 says “young child” and not “new-born” so they must have come a from far, far away. Eat that shit and like it David Hasselhoff!) and gave the dude Gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Now, I can’t knock ‘em too much, because without them, apparently, we wouldn’t be getting all sorts of awesome presents on Christmas, so that’s a +1 in my book, but come on, a kid, gold, frankincense, myrrh…? What the fuck are the last two things anyway…?!?! I mean, yea, gold kinda makes sense, it’s shiny and if the kid keeps it, he will have some money at some point, kinda like a trust fund in ancient baby jebus times. What the fuck is a little baby jesus gonna be doin with dried tree sap? Come on. If you’re so wise, why wouldn’t you realize that a fucking child does not want anything to do with dried tree sap?! Fucking idiots! Maybe get the Jew a dradle or something. Too soon? So yea, maybe it was just a “lucky week,” but I really feel that my drinking ability was outstanding, to say the least, and it culminated properly in a so-called “Beer Olympics.” I mean, Wednesday night, it took me 14 beers to get to buzzed status, that’s a little ridiculous. And at the “Beer Olympics,” I was drinking sometime around 11:30a-2a ish, walked to a bar, took a shot, drank 3 beers, and did a car bomb. No, not the drink, I Macguyvered the shit out of a car and turned it into a bomb, Hazzah! Maybe I just dreamed the Macguyver part, but it was still pretty sweet. Or maybe I was just so drunk that I couldn’t even realize that I was drunk, but I’d like to think that not the case. That is all for now, little update, little golden verbiage forever glorified into the anals of the interwebs. Enjoy.
Peace!
S(cott) dot M(iller)eezy
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
You fucked it, Bob!
So, I haven’t written in a while, and I’m sure my presence has been greatly missed. And if it hasn’t, fuck off, nah, I also forgot I existed for quite some time myself. For you see, this is not actually me, but rather a “reaching-out”, if you will, of my subconscious. For, as most of you know, that “know” me, I wouldn’t actually say any of these things in person, for I am quite reserved and rarely speak up, especially if it goes against someone. But, well, the “silicone courage” comes out and I say things that my brain tells me repeatedly that I shouldn’t say out loud. I like that phrase, silicone courage, does it exist? Only one way to find out, time out whilest I check out wikipedia and urban dictionary.
(Insert elevator music… if only, that would be so friggin awesome! Well, pretend it’s real… NOW!)
Nope, doesn’t exist, I should probably get on copyrighting that and making millions from it. Here goes:
Silicone Courage: Having a computer screen to hide behind and feeling out-of-the-ordinarily courageous, giving you the ability to talk to that person you normally wouldn’t among other things. Copyright S dot Meezy. Or would it be a registered trademark? I should probably get a lawyer on board for this one… Haha. Yea, you’re right… I won’t, at all. I can pretend though ☺
Anyway, use it, I’ll sue. Or, maybe, use it, and keep spreading it around, and then one day I’ll sue everyone for using it a be a kajillionaire. Yes, that’s a real word. Don’t believe me? It exists on Wikipedia (the real encyclopedia of the world.) And according to the Urban Dictionary, it is equal to 1000 bajillion (dollars in this instance). And once I have my kajillion dollars, my 1000 bajillion, well, I’m not quite sure what I will do with all that money, but I’ll do something like buy a taco bell franchise and put it in my house. Mmmmmm taco bell. Cheesy gordita crunch for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and 4th meal. Would they all be considered fourth meal? Eh, who cares about semantics, it would be sweeter than a lollipop dipped in an 18-year-old virgin’s pussy.
Anywho, so this weekend in speaking with Some Random Giraffe, we decided something, which I have made my actual facebook status, S Dot Meezy (which I’ve since gone back to my real name, to avoid confusion, on my own behalf, of myself), not my S. Me Z status. Something to the fact of responsibility and the fact that people do not accept it, at all. (Going through this again, instead of doing the actual work I’m supposed to do, of course, I realize that I don’t even remember this happening, lol. But I should probably get on that train myself, so as to not make myself one a dem dere hippy-crits. Long story short: How do you tell a man that you done did $4,000 worth of damage to his pride-and-joy, his livelihood, his bread maker? You can’t, without expecting to get punched the fuck out… And how do you tell that man that you did this when he is the one that puts the roof over your head? Any suggestions, I’m all ears, well, eyes, I guess, unless you want to call me. Reach me @ 382-5968. Yes, that is not my real number, it actually spells out “Fuck You” or “Fuc Kyou”, with the hyphen in its proper place… Important? No.) So, back to our regularly scheduled programming, after looking at this again, even though I don’t remember where I was originally going with this, I have found a direction to travel, and fuck, let’s see where it brings us! (The last time I played this game, I almost lost my car to the mud-covered hill due to a lack of LSD. No, not the drug, a limited slip differential… Watch my cousin vinny, or I can just copy and paste the quote, because at the current moment, I’m bored, and trying to get my mind off of my upcoming phone that isn’t out yet, nor is there a specific release date other than summer… GAY!… The last one I got was September, it’s been way too long!
Mona Lisa Vito: It's a limited slip differential which distributes power equally to both the right and left tires. The ‘05 tC had a regular differential, which, anyone who's been stuck in the mud in Alabama knows, you step on the gas, one tire spins, the other tire does nothing.
Obviously, changed the 64 skylark with the 05 tC, but I don’t own a 64 Skylark, do i?! Didn’t think so… What if I do, and am not aware of it? That would be weird…
Hokay, so… Fuck the parenthesis I forgot to add in, I’m not actually going to close this one, and hopefully, now that I’ve pointed it out, you will get uber pissed (where is the umlaut on Microsoft word? Too many efforts to insert a symbol, so you get nothing there as well. Another unclosed parenthesis. Ha!
Funny story, true story, but funny. So my one friend may or may not have a drinking/drug problem, and since I haven’t hung out with him (for reasons due to the upcoming story, if, knowing me it might not, it ever comes, you will understand, possibly, why) since this story took place, I have maybe drank, twice, in over a month, possibly pushing two months now. Time flies any more, even though it also goes by slow as shit… Can you believe this week is already over (almost.)? Can you believe it’s already (insert the current month here…) ?! So we were all hangin’ out, having a little chill sesh at mah buddy’s cribbage, drinking quite heavily. I was killing everyone in any game known to man (aka listening to Aziz Ansari and beer pong, probably most likely due to my partner (no, not in a gay way, you homophobe) “carrying me on his shoulders”) and getting all the fly honeys, cuz that’s how I do. HAHA. Yea, this is my world, I can make it up as I see fit. At least I point out when I lie, well, when it’s a blatant lie… maybe… So, we’re all drinking, having a good time, and I was NOT pacing myself at all. Not very surprising, I never do, if I’m gonna do something, you bet your ass I’m gonna put 110% into it. So 1:30 comes around, and I’m all, “Fuck this, I’m going to sleep.” Translation: I’m old as shit, and also super lame, plus waking up at 7 am M-F sucks a fat three (because it’s three times worse than sucking a fat one, in my mind at least…) So I probably find the couch and pass out mid fall into the soft, comfortability of the lovely furnishing which I have claimed my own for the night, without urinating on it, because I am not a dog or a cat or whatever else does that… Wake up the next morning, feeling AWESOME! Everyone else starts rolling out of bed all OH MY GOD I FEEL LIKE SHIT. Well, apparently they were all chugging Jack until 4 in the morning and decided waking up at 830 am was a good idea. So, come to find out my one friend, whose name will not be revealed, and something about innocent until proven guilty in a court of law (my dad seriously needs to stop watching cops, that is the dumbest show on earth, filled with the dumbest people on earth. Nothing against cops, but, wait, everything against cops. They are completely unnecessary in most parts of the world. Well, not completely, but whatever, stop distracting me. Come to find out this other kid, the one with the problem, which is kind of fueled by some people “concerned about his well-being” aka attention grabbing whores (in dudely form) drank way too much, fell down a flight of stairs, complete with a 90 degree turn after 6 steps, which in itself deserves some sort of medal, and was lying (laying? Idk.) at the bottom of the stairs, face down, laughing at himself. We go down to the basement to wake up problem-having child, clean up a little bit, and notice that the TV command center, which consists of a TV (no shit?!) an xbox, an xbox 360(yes, both… Why, who knows and or cares… They were seriously both there, and the original xbox is slightly redundant… not my chair, not my problem…), a VCR (probably the last known one in existence, no longer can I loop the princess bride in a VRC :’( and probably something else stuffs too was covered in some sort of clearish liquid. Well, as it “turns out” it was pee, the problem-having-kid was the only one downstairs alone, woke up w/ his pants unbuttoned, and all signs kinda pointed to him peeing all over this shit. Which makes sense, kinda. But well, it was never brought to court, and he was never formally charged, or had a chance to defend himself in front of his peers, so, we’ll call it a tie. How? IDK, shit! So guy whose house it was all gave him the chance to fess up, playing stupid like hey somebody spilled something on the VCR thing, or something, idk. At the time it was way more dramatic n sich, but looking back, it’s kinda wtvr, prob cause it wasn’t my shit that got pissed on.
Fuck, I had some serious gold, but I completely forgot all about it, I need to start carrying around a voice recorder or texting myself notes on what stupid shit I think about. God damnit sweaty, hairy monkey nutsack-filled plastic testicles!
Who do you portray yourself as? Do you want people to think you’re better than they are, better than you are, better than anything? Do you show people you don’t care so they think that’s why you do so poorly, do not achieve anything in life? Have you had so much potential and done nothing with it? Why do you feel that you need to portray yourself as someone other than what you actually are? Do you even know who you are? All of these questions might scare you, shit, they’re scaring me, partially because I don’t know who’s asking them, and partially because, well, they’re scary to think about!
No idea where I was going with that one either. If I remember, good for you, if not, it’ll just be something else that makes no sense. Surprise! No, it’s not your birthday, ?, we’re about to play a fun game. (yes, I just used a question mark in a appositive… technically not an appositive, but you can go lick Ron Jeremy’s decrepit, protracted, STI carrying schlong-a-dong for all I care with you getting all technical on me like that!) This game hasn’t even started, and I’m already calling time mother-lovin’ out!
So, I finally remembered I exist, again, months later, and do not remember the game we were going to play. Quite upsetting, actually, because with that intro to the game, reading over this again, I was like Shit yea I wanna play this game! But now it will never be invented and the world will not be a better place for its existence. :’( On a more positive note, I’m ending it here before I make it any worse than it already is. Seriously though, think about that question in the last “para-graph.” I sometimes have gems of wisdom, sometimes, maybe…?
Peace out nyuckas!
S(dot)cott M(eezy)iller
(Insert elevator music… if only, that would be so friggin awesome! Well, pretend it’s real… NOW!)
Nope, doesn’t exist, I should probably get on copyrighting that and making millions from it. Here goes:
Silicone Courage: Having a computer screen to hide behind and feeling out-of-the-ordinarily courageous, giving you the ability to talk to that person you normally wouldn’t among other things. Copyright S dot Meezy. Or would it be a registered trademark? I should probably get a lawyer on board for this one… Haha. Yea, you’re right… I won’t, at all. I can pretend though ☺
Anyway, use it, I’ll sue. Or, maybe, use it, and keep spreading it around, and then one day I’ll sue everyone for using it a be a kajillionaire. Yes, that’s a real word. Don’t believe me? It exists on Wikipedia (the real encyclopedia of the world.) And according to the Urban Dictionary, it is equal to 1000 bajillion (dollars in this instance). And once I have my kajillion dollars, my 1000 bajillion, well, I’m not quite sure what I will do with all that money, but I’ll do something like buy a taco bell franchise and put it in my house. Mmmmmm taco bell. Cheesy gordita crunch for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and 4th meal. Would they all be considered fourth meal? Eh, who cares about semantics, it would be sweeter than a lollipop dipped in an 18-year-old virgin’s pussy.
Anywho, so this weekend in speaking with Some Random Giraffe, we decided something, which I have made my actual facebook status, S Dot Meezy (which I’ve since gone back to my real name, to avoid confusion, on my own behalf, of myself), not my S. Me Z status. Something to the fact of responsibility and the fact that people do not accept it, at all. (Going through this again, instead of doing the actual work I’m supposed to do, of course, I realize that I don’t even remember this happening, lol. But I should probably get on that train myself, so as to not make myself one a dem dere hippy-crits. Long story short: How do you tell a man that you done did $4,000 worth of damage to his pride-and-joy, his livelihood, his bread maker? You can’t, without expecting to get punched the fuck out… And how do you tell that man that you did this when he is the one that puts the roof over your head? Any suggestions, I’m all ears, well, eyes, I guess, unless you want to call me. Reach me @ 382-5968. Yes, that is not my real number, it actually spells out “Fuck You” or “Fuc Kyou”, with the hyphen in its proper place… Important? No.) So, back to our regularly scheduled programming, after looking at this again, even though I don’t remember where I was originally going with this, I have found a direction to travel, and fuck, let’s see where it brings us! (The last time I played this game, I almost lost my car to the mud-covered hill due to a lack of LSD. No, not the drug, a limited slip differential… Watch my cousin vinny, or I can just copy and paste the quote, because at the current moment, I’m bored, and trying to get my mind off of my upcoming phone that isn’t out yet, nor is there a specific release date other than summer… GAY!… The last one I got was September, it’s been way too long!
Mona Lisa Vito: It's a limited slip differential which distributes power equally to both the right and left tires. The ‘05 tC had a regular differential, which, anyone who's been stuck in the mud in Alabama knows, you step on the gas, one tire spins, the other tire does nothing.
Obviously, changed the 64 skylark with the 05 tC, but I don’t own a 64 Skylark, do i?! Didn’t think so… What if I do, and am not aware of it? That would be weird…
Hokay, so… Fuck the parenthesis I forgot to add in, I’m not actually going to close this one, and hopefully, now that I’ve pointed it out, you will get uber pissed (where is the umlaut on Microsoft word? Too many efforts to insert a symbol, so you get nothing there as well. Another unclosed parenthesis. Ha!
Funny story, true story, but funny. So my one friend may or may not have a drinking/drug problem, and since I haven’t hung out with him (for reasons due to the upcoming story, if, knowing me it might not, it ever comes, you will understand, possibly, why) since this story took place, I have maybe drank, twice, in over a month, possibly pushing two months now. Time flies any more, even though it also goes by slow as shit… Can you believe this week is already over (almost.)? Can you believe it’s already (insert the current month here…) ?! So we were all hangin’ out, having a little chill sesh at mah buddy’s cribbage, drinking quite heavily. I was killing everyone in any game known to man (aka listening to Aziz Ansari and beer pong, probably most likely due to my partner (no, not in a gay way, you homophobe) “carrying me on his shoulders”) and getting all the fly honeys, cuz that’s how I do. HAHA. Yea, this is my world, I can make it up as I see fit. At least I point out when I lie, well, when it’s a blatant lie… maybe… So, we’re all drinking, having a good time, and I was NOT pacing myself at all. Not very surprising, I never do, if I’m gonna do something, you bet your ass I’m gonna put 110% into it. So 1:30 comes around, and I’m all, “Fuck this, I’m going to sleep.” Translation: I’m old as shit, and also super lame, plus waking up at 7 am M-F sucks a fat three (because it’s three times worse than sucking a fat one, in my mind at least…) So I probably find the couch and pass out mid fall into the soft, comfortability of the lovely furnishing which I have claimed my own for the night, without urinating on it, because I am not a dog or a cat or whatever else does that… Wake up the next morning, feeling AWESOME! Everyone else starts rolling out of bed all OH MY GOD I FEEL LIKE SHIT. Well, apparently they were all chugging Jack until 4 in the morning and decided waking up at 830 am was a good idea. So, come to find out my one friend, whose name will not be revealed, and something about innocent until proven guilty in a court of law (my dad seriously needs to stop watching cops, that is the dumbest show on earth, filled with the dumbest people on earth. Nothing against cops, but, wait, everything against cops. They are completely unnecessary in most parts of the world. Well, not completely, but whatever, stop distracting me. Come to find out this other kid, the one with the problem, which is kind of fueled by some people “concerned about his well-being” aka attention grabbing whores (in dudely form) drank way too much, fell down a flight of stairs, complete with a 90 degree turn after 6 steps, which in itself deserves some sort of medal, and was lying (laying? Idk.) at the bottom of the stairs, face down, laughing at himself. We go down to the basement to wake up problem-having child, clean up a little bit, and notice that the TV command center, which consists of a TV (no shit?!) an xbox, an xbox 360(yes, both… Why, who knows and or cares… They were seriously both there, and the original xbox is slightly redundant… not my chair, not my problem…), a VCR (probably the last known one in existence, no longer can I loop the princess bride in a VRC :’( and probably something else stuffs too was covered in some sort of clearish liquid. Well, as it “turns out” it was pee, the problem-having-kid was the only one downstairs alone, woke up w/ his pants unbuttoned, and all signs kinda pointed to him peeing all over this shit. Which makes sense, kinda. But well, it was never brought to court, and he was never formally charged, or had a chance to defend himself in front of his peers, so, we’ll call it a tie. How? IDK, shit! So guy whose house it was all gave him the chance to fess up, playing stupid like hey somebody spilled something on the VCR thing, or something, idk. At the time it was way more dramatic n sich, but looking back, it’s kinda wtvr, prob cause it wasn’t my shit that got pissed on.
Fuck, I had some serious gold, but I completely forgot all about it, I need to start carrying around a voice recorder or texting myself notes on what stupid shit I think about. God damnit sweaty, hairy monkey nutsack-filled plastic testicles!
Who do you portray yourself as? Do you want people to think you’re better than they are, better than you are, better than anything? Do you show people you don’t care so they think that’s why you do so poorly, do not achieve anything in life? Have you had so much potential and done nothing with it? Why do you feel that you need to portray yourself as someone other than what you actually are? Do you even know who you are? All of these questions might scare you, shit, they’re scaring me, partially because I don’t know who’s asking them, and partially because, well, they’re scary to think about!
No idea where I was going with that one either. If I remember, good for you, if not, it’ll just be something else that makes no sense. Surprise! No, it’s not your birthday, ?, we’re about to play a fun game. (yes, I just used a question mark in a appositive… technically not an appositive, but you can go lick Ron Jeremy’s decrepit, protracted, STI carrying schlong-a-dong for all I care with you getting all technical on me like that!) This game hasn’t even started, and I’m already calling time mother-lovin’ out!
So, I finally remembered I exist, again, months later, and do not remember the game we were going to play. Quite upsetting, actually, because with that intro to the game, reading over this again, I was like Shit yea I wanna play this game! But now it will never be invented and the world will not be a better place for its existence. :’( On a more positive note, I’m ending it here before I make it any worse than it already is. Seriously though, think about that question in the last “para-graph.” I sometimes have gems of wisdom, sometimes, maybe…?
Peace out nyuckas!
S(dot)cott M(eezy)iller
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)