What to do with a warped mind like mine?

What to do with a warped mind like mine? Lets put it on the internet!

Sunday, January 30, 2011

What is Value?

Hi world. Anyone out there? Didn't think so.
First I'd like to ask a simple question, if one pays thousands of dollars to a school, you'd think they'd keep their severs running, correct? Well my lovely institution doesn't seem to think so, and when this means no access to the email account that keeps you in contact with the school you might be getting athletic scholarships? Not cool. Seriously. Mega Freekout.
Anyways, just a random thought for the world, what exactly is the point of trying to be 'the good guy'? I've tried this approach for my whole life, and lately Ive discovered its turned me not into a gentlemen in the eyes of those i love, and desire, but a doormat. I've gone through hell for people, and gotten nothing but the cold shoulder. It makes a guy feel wonderful. So here's the question of the day, in order to make myself more appealing to others, do i shed the skin of the nice guy, and release my inner douche bag? Because the whole, you ll find someone jazz isn't working so well.
Also, for the record, girls. Be careful how you use the phrase, "you're like a brother to me". It can hurt. Alot.


Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Blast From The Past

Hi world, Ive been cleaning out my flashdrives, and i discovered some of my old creative writing work, so i figured id post it for your reading pleasure.

Do Not Follow

Don’t follow that girl, don’t give her your heart,
Ignore the dark brown hair, the brilliant green eyes,
Be cause if you don’t, shell rip you apart

You’ll play your cards, shrug the warnings saying it isn’t smart,
But soon you will find, love, like all things, dies,
Don’t follow that girl, don’t give her your heart

Shell look into your eyes, into your soul and beg for your heart,
But fight, fight, fight those damned eyes!
Because if you don’t shell rip you apart

Her body is perfect, like a statue, or a piece of art,
Your thoughts will race, your heart will soar, fly!
Don’t follow that girl, don’t give her your heart

Your parents know evil when they see it, your mother begs “oh sweetheart!’
Your friends will resist, but you just turn your back and say “goodbye”
Because now that you have, shell rip out your heart

The damage is done, your falling apart,
Those who warned you before, can do naught but sigh,
‘Don’t follow that girl, don’t give her your heart,
Because if you do, shell rip you apart.


An Assassination

The freezing blast of wind seemed to come out of nowhere. The fat man took one last puff of his cigar, and flicked it over the balcony. He took a last glimpse of the shining lights of Manhattan, and made his way back inside. He waddled his way over to his favorite lounging spot, a sturdy looking arm chair next to a well crafted fireplace, which was currently roaring, spilling a warm heat into the room. As he plopped down, he took a deep breath and sighed, maybe now he could relax. The death threats he had been receiving the past few days have been giving his staff a higher than usual paranoia level, and it was getting on his nerves. After all, anytime a big business man like him decided to build a new property, they would have a group of tree hugging maniacs that would be an endless pain in the side. But no, this group wasn’t happy with his new plans for a new shopping center that would require the lives of a couple hundred trees, oh well. Once they went shopping at the new area maybe they will appreciate it. He never got to relax, because at that moment Wallace, his short, but ever loyal assistant cane bashing thorough the doors.
“Mr. Green! Mr. Green!’
Green gave out a grunt of discontent, knowing his breif moment of peace was over.
“What do you want Wallace?” he croaked
“He’s dead sir! Henry is dead!” He squealed
“Henry? The Gardener?” He asked in surprise
“Yes sir, I was on my way to a car, and I came upon his body, he was shot! Sir we need to get out of here, I fear someone is here after you!”
Mr. Green grunted, knowing his assistant had his best interests in mind.
“Wallace, I’m sure it was just a freak accident, a robbery or something, this building is safe, I don’t pay all this money for a home that isn’t well protected. Just take a few deep breaths can call the police”
Wallace was not at all pleased with the lax stance he had towards the murder that had just taken place, an event like this would have bothered him on a normal basis, but with the threats that had been made in the last few weeks, and they were extra concerning. But there was no point in fighting with him. He walked back into the living room to retrieve his phone from his coat.
Green, let out a sigh, and lowered himself once again into his chair. He stretched his arms in the air, and his back made a loud crack. A few seconds later, he heard another. But this time it wasn’t his back. He jumped up, and threw the door open, Wallace was lying motionless on the ground in a growing patch of red. Over him was a tall figure in all black, carrying a handgun. His heart stopped, then immediately kicked back into action, with surprising agility for a man his size he whirled back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut. He was expecting for the crack of more gunshots, but none came.
He scanned the room for something to defend himself with, of course there was nothing. He had never seen the point of owning a weapon figuring in his overconfidence that no one would ever get close enough to him for him to even consider using it. Oh how he regretted that now. He grabbed a desk lamp he had sitting on a table, bringing it up to his shoulder like a baseball bat. He had never been any good at the game as a child, but he was confident he could buy himself some time with a good swing or two. Before he could get good footing, the door smashed open, going into a blind panic, he closed his eyes and swung hard as he could towards the door, and to his surprise he made contact with something, followed by a muffled crunch and a grunt of pain. He opened his eyes in shock to see the figure holding its arm. Now was his chance, if he was going to have one, he grabbed the figure and threw him aside, and ran for his life. Unfortunately for him, years and years of sitting behind a desk didn’t keep him in tip top shape, so over the years his run had become a distinct waddle. He fled for his life down the stars, into the long hallway that led to the exit of the building, to possible salvation. He made it about fifteen feet, when he was knocked clear off his feet onto his face. He was rolled over, and he saw the figure had him pinned to the ground, a shining silver knife in his hand.
“Please! Don’t! Ill do whatever you want, just don’t kill me! I don’t want it to end like this!” He cried, but his cries soon turned into unrecognizable oaths.

The figure raised the knife, and plunged it into his chest. Mr. Green gasped as a heavy force slammed into his chest; he sat up with a gasp. What he had just seen and experienced had been a dream. But what he saw before him was not. Crimson blood flowed from his chest, and sticking from the center of it was a long dagger. He reached a shaking hand towards the knife, in a vein attempt to remove the weapon and save himself. But it was to much, his hand dropped to the bed. He raised his eyes to look at the one who had ended his life. His heart broke upon seeing the man he considered to be his closest and loyal companion.
“Why?” he croaked
“Sorry Green, the eco-geeks pay more than you ever would, and I did warn you not to move on with the project, but no, you didn’t listen to me, just like usual. But don’t worry, this will be over in a second, I promise.”
He told the truth, with a few final gasps, oaths and curses, Mr. Green was no more.

Thanks for reading.

Blue and Orange


Politics for me?

Hello my faithful 2 followers, im back.
Today’s topic? Well, the other day i saw on the TV the other day that Snooki, the chick from Jersey Shore has released some bestselling book. Question. WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TOO? I feel like today’s society is becoming more and more like the people from Idiocracy, the cheesy ass time travel movie. Never heard of it? Look it up.
ANYWAYS if this dumb bimbo can write a BEST SELLING book, shit, i should be a politician. Why not? I already say loads of shit that i never wind up doing, might as well get paid for it eh? Besides, if good ol George W. can do it, why can’t i?
Or maybe i could be a rock star. Or a rocket scientist! The sky is the limit, apparently

Blue and Orange