Thread:Gen. Grievous1138/@comment-25356210-20150930161533/@comment-104.237.91.124-20151004141113

om minerals they through in to make it TASTE like salt. There's salt, of course, and aluminum sulfate, and other compounds. But the point is, if I were, say, freakily allergic to a random mineral, I could read the ingredients and not eat the salt. That's what they need to do with the water. Or, at the very least, not label it as "pure". Okay. That's the rant of the week, month, year, whatever. I'll probably have another one soon, but that whole water thing has been buggin me for awhile. Well...seeya! Er...yeah...I'm back. It's been awhile, (at least two weeks) since I've written here. I've been obsessed with various webcomics, creating the stupidly long new Phobia Quiz and being maniacly hysterical about my site always being down due to bandwith issues. I'm goin' light on the advertising at the moment, which is why I'm free to write here. I WANT to write. But I can't think of anything to write about. Typical. I finnaly get some free time to rant and rave and all my topics just magically melted away. Let's see...what have I ranted about before, subliminal messages, vast breakfast cereal conspiracies, water, uh...reality tv? And that's just what I can list from memory. Oh, yeah! How could I forget the stupid Tootsie Roll Pop Commercials? TACO is still in my heart. *sighs*...now...let's see...what to rant about today... ... ... ... ... I can't think of anything!? Is this writer's block?! Or maybe I just wanna go to bed. Sleeping is fun. Well...let's see. Did you know that statistics prove that 45% of all statistics are completly made up by me (The Patron Saint of Paperclips)? Well...they are. Ha! I see you have no reaction to that, do you Hypothetical Reader? I have once again caused that explody sensation in your brain meats! You cannot DEFEAT me! I rule the...er...*random Loyal Minion whispers in ear* That's right! I rule the Internet! The Official FLaming-Chickens Handbook already confirms that fact! You CANNOT DENY it! It says that in black and...er lime green! It MUST be true! Because it is in those veyr colors that the  Matrix  is programmed! Ahhh...I see your confusion! You cannot follow the vast, mind-boggling logic that is ME! Wait...how...how can I BE logic? That doesn't make any sense...you can't BE something abstract...can you? Now MY brain meats feel explody. That's not fair! I see your EVIL plot now, Hypothetical Reader! You just let me rant on and on for you KNEW that eventually I would confuse myself with my vast puddle of knowledge. You are devious...I give you that. Unfortunantly...I must leave...before the confusion spreads and I do something stupid...like revealing my one weakness before you...THAT'S IT! Code 452 of the Flaming Chickens Handbook states that the Patron Saint of Paperclips (ME!!!) does not, has never, and will absolutly NOT admit to having any weakness...besides the aformention indivduals own skin, which isn't even a weakness anyway since no representative of the Dark, Fluffier Side can BE the Patron Saint of Paperclips (Guess, who...no...no...THAT'S IT!) and even if they could it wouldn't do them any good because it would scare them instead of the aformentioned individual. Boy...I really enjoy confusing myself!:) Seeya! I'm baaaaa-ack! Aren't you happy? Here, see if you can find the super-secret message!

'''While you wait for yesterday's tomorrow, lunge back and remember that day. You know the one. Yeah, this doesn't mean anything to you. Are you surprised? Obviously not. Answer me, you blobby looking freak! Or suffer my blindingly moronic nail messages.'''

Did you find it? Wasn't it super? And secret? I thought it was. But then, I'm me...and you're you. I think. I'm pretty sure you're not me...but you could be that other guy. Yeah...that...guy...you know who I'm talking about. No? Do not MOCK me! I know where you are right now! Spooky, huh? Ooooo...time for today's topic. My favorite stuff...JTHM...I have my libraries copy of JTHM...I shall quote Noodle Boy for you:) (Full copyright/credit to Jonhnen Vasquez for writin' the stuff, I'm just sharing the spleeny goodness with you). (it's edited, of course, to stay PG13...**** signifies a random naugty word:)) "HEY, DOG ENTITY! RISE UP AND BARE YOUR BISCUIT FILTY FANGS AT THE LEASH WIELDING DEMON!! **** MY NAVEL ITCHES!! MEOW!MEOW!MEOW! CAT CHOW!!! CEASE YOUR FLATULENT WINDS AND HEAR MY MIND NUMBING EXPULSIONS OF WICKED NOISE! GRRR!! CHEESE!!! I SENSE YOUR ENVY OF MY NECK!! AND I DONT BLAME YOU!! DROOOOOL OVER MY MAGICAL POWERS!! I HAVE POWERS PINTO BEANS CAN ONLY DREAM OF! WANNA SEE ME PULL A TAPEWORM OUTTA MY ****!! HUH?!...STARE DEEP INTO THE STINKING ABYSS OF MY INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED SLICES!!! HOLY WAX! CHECK OUT MY ARMPITS!!! HEEEEY! WAIDAMINIT!! WAIT JUST A POLYP PICKING MINUTE!! I SEE YOUR GAME! YOU WILL  NOT SINK MY CHEERIO!! I SEE WHAT IS TRANSPIRING HERE!!! YOU'RE ALL ZOMBIE THIGH-FAT PEOPLE BROUGHT INTO ANIMATION BY SOME EVIL FORCE OF FORCEFUL EVIL!!! **** THAT LIPSTICKS THE WRONG COLOR FOR YOU!! MOOOO! WOOF! OH, DON'T YOU SEE THE TOENAILS?!! OH, SO SPLENDID!! A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K...! UNDER SUCH EXTREME HEAT, WEAR AND DEGRADATION IS INEVITABLE!! PARTS BREAK AFTER OVERUSE!! AND  THAT IS WHY TOASTER PASTRIES WILL BURST INTO FLAMES IF YOU DON'T KEEP AN EYE ON THEM! Now, wasn't that entertainment. I added to the lenghth of the LTE without even thinking! That's talent. Lots of gooey talent. Unfortunatly, I once again am devoid of a topic. And any weirdness I could come up with would be normal compared to Noodle Boy, so...I bid thee farewell...seeya! I'm back. And I've realized that I am a complete idiot. For an ENTIRE MONTH I have possesed the arcane knowledge, but I forgot to share it with you, my loyal potentially imaginary reader. I know. You're shocked at my selfish, bad, memory. I apologize from the depths of my moosey soul. For, you see...my life long goal has been fufilled...*anticipatory silence*... THERE ACTUALLY IS GRAPE PIE!!!! I know...you are as shocked as I am. One day I was randomly looking up images via  Google...and 'lo and behold, there it was. Grape Pie. It was as if it had been just sitting there...waiting for me to discover it. Apparantly Grape Pie isn't mainstream, but it has existed for some time. In obscure cookbooks. Well...that just makes me filled with gooey happiness. Of course, there is also regret...after all, I could have made a  fortune if I'd been the first to think of it. Oh, well. There was something else I had to tell you loyal *cricket chirps, someone coughs* fans. I can't remember what. I guess I'll just rant and rave about that whole vicious downward spiral of my writing. I mean, I KNOW people are coming here...I have proof! *holds up a piece of paper, which, from a distance, appears to have writing on it* Yes, undenyable proof! But this proof degrades this mysterious, mystical and mystifying "quality" of my words. After all, how can I be self derisive, and full of low expectations for this site if I KNOW people are here...several thousand of them in fact, in just a few months. It's strange. I felt more fufilled when this site was a barren wastland of useless space. But, if it had remained that way, I would have had no impetus to continue my pointlessly insane ranting. Oh, speaking of insane, I STILL need those much needed supplies for the Official Flaming-Chickens Lunar Colony! No one has even bothered to e-mail them to me...*sniffle*. I needs the duct tape! How can I survive without the sticky goodness? HOW, I ask you!? It cannot be...hmmmm...maybe I should just use IMAGINARY duct tape...it's easier to come by ,but it's much more expensive...I'm not sure what to do. *enter Squirell* What's that, little Squirell? That's just silly. You KNOW I ran out of imaginary money last week when I bought that imaginary country. WHAT!? Just "imagine" I have more!? What a crazy idea. So crazy it just might work! *scrunches eyes and makes funny sounds* Nope. It didn't. I guess I'll just have to wait untill my imaginary clone hijacks that imaginary bank truck. Until then...I have absolutly no imaginary money. What ever shall I do? I won't be able to feed my various imaginary pets and friends their beloved imaginary food! Squirell? You gots extra money, don't you? *nods* I thought so. You give to me? No? I gives you imaginary IOU's...here...yours. Thank you Squirell. *Squirell wanders off in search of electrical sockets to sniff* What's that, Hypothetical Reader? You don't know who Squirell is? You haven't been paying attention have you? She's my little puppy...she fears grape flavored stuff, wind, rain, television, noise, silence, small children and pretty much everything. She likes sniffing potentially dangerous stuff, like electrical sockets. Surely you have heard of her? Still no? Oh, well. You know...I enjoy having these conversations with you. It really lets me get to know you. What's that? You say I'm really just talking to myself? What an eccentric idea! To think, YOU are trying to tell ME that YOU aren't here. How absurd. After all, I'm talking to you, aren't I? *nods* Well, yeah...I KNOW I'm actually typing instead of talking. Wait a minute...so you're saying that I'm talking and responding to you, but you won't be reading this until long after I have finished typing? Now who's the crazy one? For that theory to work, I'd have to be psychic...or in possesion of a freaky time-traveling computer. Because what you're saying is that I'm talking to people in the future. That my words somehow travel accross time (if only a few minutes) and are somehow picked up by future you, and that my responses are dictated by future you's reactions. What? You mean that I'm just randomly responding regardless of your reactions? Why, that would be insane, wouldn't it? That's the point you're trying to get across? *pauses* Oh. I see. You wanna play that way. Well...two can play by THOSE rules. You wanna try to convince me I'M crazy? Well, look at you? How do you know I even exist? For all you know you could be staring at that freaky 3-D maze screen saver with a blank look on your face while you THINK you're reading an inhumanly long text. For all you know, you could be halucinating my entire site! For that matter, how do you know that ANYTHING but you exists! You could be floating out in empty space, conjuring nice little fantasies to relieve the monotony of being the only living being! Every single person you know could just be figments of your imagination, you could even be in a crazy house! Not only that, but how do you know that YOU actually exist? You could be the figment of someone else's dream. What would happen when that dreamer woke? Are you happy? You got me started. I may NEVER shut up. I'll just go on and on about how crazy you COULD be. All because YOU tried to convince me that I was crazy. *blinks* And I STILL can't remember what else I was gonna say to you people. Strange, huh? Well, I better leave before I go on and on about more "reality" theories. Makes you wonder about "reality" television, huh? Seeya. I'm back. Grrrr...I had a nifty rant all planned out in my head. And then I was unable to get on the computer and I forgot most of it. Oh, but I did remember what else I wanted to say to you people. Remember that rant I did on how there could be a secret camera in the smoke detector? I few months ago I saw a movie about that. It was pretty good. Maybe I'd seen it before, and that's where I got the idea. I forgot it's name. Well...I DO have a special treat for you weirdos who apparantly like wasting time! Today, in my (Honors) English class, we did group work. My group...well...we either went hysterical or crazy, I can't decide which. We had to do an essay on a book. There was a sample essay online. It sucked. It tooked about envelooping (enveloping) cracked nuts and parables. So we were already off to a bad start. Here is the sum total of my group's work. (Note: I wrote virtually none of this, so I cannot be blamed, credited with any of this. "Lots of death, lots and lots of death in this section. Death is like life in that after you die some things start life again inside of you. 'Ah the power of cheese!' The author's vision was unique in that only he put biscuits and death in the same sentence. 'I found nothing else to do but to offer him on of my good Swede's ship's biscuits I had in my pocket'" And we're supposed to be GOOD in English! We KNEW how terrible it was, but we just didn't bother to change it. Especially the part about the biscuits and cheese. We just picked random words in the selection and wrote about them. It was sad. In any case, I hope you enjoyed our patheticness. Seeya! I'm back. Today I will be mercifully brief. I am here to bring AWARNESS to your moosey soul! Right now, while you are sitting in your "chair" and eating your "junk food", millions of almonds are commiting suicide. Yes...that's right...suicide. I was alerted to this growing problem in our world community by (Kat, the ruler of all that is almondy)...and it greatly concerns me. People just don't realize that their almonds and mixed nuts may be having depression and other problems. We need to act now! For more information, e-mail  [mailto:EnpuUnknown@msn.com EnpuUnknown@msn.com] Well...seeya! I'm so very, very tired. Today was Halloween. I worked for four hours at the "Library of Terror" sponsered by TAB. TAB members got pizza...lots of pizza...and candy. Ugh. It was fun, but exhausting. I was almost completly covered in (fake) blood...it was sticky toward the end. One guy was a "shock therepy" patient...he was a good actor. He acted like he was really being tortured and stuff. I'm tired. I bet you couldn't tell. Why am I writing? Because this is the first time I've been on a computer all day. You can't blame me. Don't worry, I'll go to bed soon. In the mean time, I'll just sit here and type with my eyes closed. It's hard to type because of the bandaid on my finger. I accidently cut it with scizzors. It hurt. The fake blood seeped into the open wound. Gee...I sure hope it wasn't poisonous. If so, I guess I won't be writing here for quite awhile...seeya. Okay, this next rant has nothing to do whatsoever with Halloween...which is to be expected because it's been several days since then. Anyway, today's rant is about one of my many and various pet peeves: fasion and...stuff. My definition of fasion includes clothes, shoes, jewelery and all things of that nature. Now, don't get me wrong. I can appreciate a spiffy black outfit as much as the next person, but everytime I consider actually buying clothes for aesthetic value, I think about how I could better spend my money. On video games. Sure, some of this "fasion" stuff is cool and all, but all it shows is that you had the three and three-quarters brain cells required to copy someone else's "look". And don't even get me started on earrings. My little, eviler sister got her ears pierced when she was relativly younger. My mom did it to her because it was free. OF FREAKIN' COURSE IT WAS FREE! Just like thos so called "diet supplements" that give you a "free" sample because they know that once you try it, you'll like it so much you'll spend oodles of cash on it. (There's probably drugs in it). Anyway, like the "diet supplement" people, the earring manufacturers KNOW that once they pierce you, you'll be hooked for life. *pauses* *groans* I'm sorry for that pun (pierced, hooked, getit?). AS soon as you're pierced, you have to buy "starter" earrings. Then you'll need an "extra" pair...for special occasions. Before you know it you'll realize that you need Christmas earrings, Halloween earrings, Valentine's Day earrings, St. Patrick's Day earrings, for crying out loud! You'll wear these "festive" earings for about a day and then abandon them in some dark cranny of your closet because you simply  can't  wear the same earrings two years in a row for heaven's sake! Then  you'll see these cute little "days-of-the-week" earrings at the mall, and you'll just  have <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> to get a few sets, just in case you lose some. By the time you're eighty, you'll have enough ear jewelry to open up your own jewelry shop. Of course, you won't want to do that becuase you  <u style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">still <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> need more earrings so people won't think you wear the same ones over and over again. When I think of how much money people WASTE on appearences, it makes me feel like projectile vomiting. If that's not a vast conspiracy, then nothing on this Earth is. Now, I'm not speaking from personal experience here. No one I know is that obsessed with earrings, it was just an example. (Although my mother does have a "earring tree".) Sure, certain members of my family  do<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> pay WAY to much attention to fasion, but that's just because of the expectations of society. I, being weird, am pretty much immune to such expectations. Except those specially formulated for weird-o's like me. If I were to suddenly convert this entrie site into a *shudders* Backstreet Boys fan site or something, you wouldn't be any more suprised than I would be if my brother woke up one day and suddenly realized that he's shallow. It's the same concept. (No, I don't like any of those creepy "pop" stars. I think that they should routinly die a slow, savage, agonizing death...I was just saying a random thing that I would never, ever do.) Well...any way...seeya! I'm back. And today's rant is a sort of philosophical one. It's about the (supposedly) infinite nature of the universe. Suprised? It's spiffy. You see, if the universe is indeed infinite, that means that literally EVERYTHING is possible, and in fact, is happening somewhere in the universe. Think about it. No matter how unlikely something is, if the universe is infinite, it's happening an infinite number of times. Think about that old saying about "If you gave an infinite number of monkeys an infinite number of typewriters, eventually they would reproduce the entire works of Shakespear". That makes complete and total sense! Anyone just randomly typing letters will eventually accidently write a word, right? Now think of 100 people typing randomly. You figure that one of those 100 people would actually have a coherent phrase. And one out of a million people would probably have a few sentences. So if you have an infinite number of people, some are going to have entire  <u style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">books <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> of coherent stuff. And, you have to remember that because infinity  <u style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">is <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> infinite, you can divide it an infinite number of times. Try it. If you have a decent graphing calculator, plug in the infinity symbol divided by anything, (even infinity). The answer is still infinity. Using my philosopy, that EVERYTHING exists because the universe is infinite...well...think about it. In some far off world, there are pokemon...there are an evil race of muffin like creatures, there is a world with ABSOLUTLY NO COMMERCIALS DURING TELEVISION! I know, unlikely, huh? But somewhere, it exists. Think about it. If the universe is infinite it would be crazy to think that we're alone. With an infinite universe, there are infinite possibilites. There ARE aliens. Not only that, but there are an infinite number of different kinds of intelligent life. Which means that there are an infinite number of worlds with humanoid life. (Think of the fake-looking Star Trek aliens). If there are an infinte number of worlds with human life, than there are an infinte number of worlds that have someone exactly like you, with only a few key differences. (Like alternate dimensions and stuff) So, there is a world where you are the creator of this Longest Text Ever. There is a world where you are a faerie. There is a world where you were never born. There is a world where you are a slave to your TOASTER OVEN. The possibilities are literally endless. Every fantasy the human mind has concieved exist at some place in the universe. There are an infinite number of worlds with Harry Potter. Think about it. I came up with this philosophy when I was in fifth grade. I'd tell it to my little brother as a bed time story. He always enjoyed it because it meant that somewhere, he was the Supreme Dictator of the Galaxy. That made him happy. He ignored the fact that he was also a 72 year old "sanitation engineer" somewhere. All the good possibilities effectivly cancel out the bad ones, leaving the sum total of you and your counterparts experiences as nothing. You don't have the best life of your counterparts, but you don't have the worst either. Because that would be impossible. There is  always<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> someone worse off and better off than you. Because there are an infinite number of people on either side of the spectrum. Confusing, huh? But that's the kind of thing I like. That also explains why normal stuff confuses me. I'm sure some so called "scientist" can prove all my theories wrong...but how? How do you PROVE something is not infinite? You'd have to find the end, of course. But how, may I ask, can you find the end of the FREAKIN' universe? What, is there a giant sign saying, "DEAD END"? The universe is EVERYTHING, how can it end? At the same time, how can you prove something IS infinite? You could travel in a straight line at the speed of light for a million years and all you'd prove is that the universe is really, really big. But you'd never prove it was infinite. How could you? Our mind's cannot conceive of the vastness of infinity. We'd probably go crazier. In any case, my theory means that playing video games is very cruel. Why, you ask? Because in some world, the video game is real. So when you kill, or whatever, in the game, you are actually ending life somewhere in the universe. Of course, you also end life by sneezing, eating, sleeping, and watching T.V. According to my theory that everything is real. Of course, if everything is real...then the Universe is pretty contradictory. The paradox of my system of beliefs leads me to believe that the universe, in fact, is not infinite. Because nature supposidly abhors a paradox. Although, as I said, there's no way to prove me wrong OR right. That's what I like about making abstract theories... Anyway, sorry for the lack of relative weirdness, conspiracy theories and doughnuts (my Moose ate them all). Well...now that I think about it...according to my theory, ALL conspiracies are real and mislabled "paranoid" people are really the only ones who see the truth. *blinks* Wow...so I'm NOT paranoid. Who'da thought it? Well...better go before one of my two and half sane readers falls asleep:) Seeya! I'm back! Boy, are you mythical, mystical readers in for a treat, today! I have a guest rant/fake commercial written by  "Meg"<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> (who is once again banned from accessing the almighty Internet). Are you ready? No? Too Bad!  ''The magic eight-ball glows with knowledge! With a shake, the future is revealed! The magic eight-ball is a plastic casing with an unknown, possibly toxic liquid inside. The future is determined by the triangles, in a startling blue color which spin around in a zany manner. Wheather you're saved or doomed, find out now! Is that old lady on the street corner really an ex-convict? Is fat-free food more delicious than food loaded with fat? Is your school playground a gateay to the underworld? All this information and more is yours for the low, low price of 5 payments of $29.99! And, if you call within the next ten minutes you get a free eight ball with the one you buy! But wait! There's more! Get the free Lil' Ball for your traveling needs! Warning: this product is illegal in most states)''<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> Wasn't that entertaining?  "Meg"<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> wrote it for a school assignment. We were supposed to write about a cherished child-hood toy, and attempt to turn our fond memories into a commercial. I wrote about furby, and how it was fun to watch it die. No, really. Somehow, I managed to make my furby die. It would sneeze, then start it's eight-hour-long death hum. It would hum, and hum, and hum...and then mercifully die. I don't exactly have a good track record with virtual pets. I once...*embarassed pause* had "Hey, You! Pikachu!"...a pokemon game. I'll only say that it was the first game you could "talk" to and was the first (and only) N64 virtual pet. Pikachu...well...he didn't like me. I gave him cupcakes, and presents, and did everything I could to befriend him! And what did he do to me? He snuck up on me one day in our room (in the game) with a sword! That's right, a sword! He tried to kill me! I heard something and turned around, and there he was! He even tried to hide the sword behind his back! When I tried to talk to him, he tossed it away nonchalantly and pretended he hadn't heard me. Then he preceeded to trash my room, scattering kleenex everywhere. I'm pretty sure that the "smelly yellow ball" that he started throwing was his own feces (poo). That dirty little rat. Awwww...isn't he cute? Hmmmm...I suppose I should clarify that the Pikachu game was 3-D and your character was in first person mode(you see through character's eyes). Otherwise you'd think I was delusional, or something. Everyone I know who has played that game is shocked when I tell them...oh, well. Speaking of virtual pets, I'm revamping the ones on this site. I've finnally figured out sorta, maybe, kinda, how to do stuff to make it more real. Anyway, seeya! OOooooo! I'm back, and I had yet another Asparagus War with some people. We made a guild, and I wrote out the transcripts of the first ever Asparagus War in narrative form (mock epic, very cheesey) Since it's very, very long, I'll post it here to meet my imaginary word quota for the day! Oh, and all those weird squiggly lines and symbols, those are supposed to be apostrophes, but neopet's code is weird, and I'm not gonna bother to edit it. Enjoy!

''And, on the 15th day of the Month of August, in the year of our Lord 2003, at approximately 7:52 p.m. a great and wondrous battle was fought in the waste lands of the General Chat Room. â€˜Lo, and eon337 did wield the mighty Swiss-Asparagus, and did attempt to vanquish her foe, the Evil and Fluffy preggypreggy. Preggypreggy had tamed the fearsome Asparagus Sword, and many a foe had she slain with her valor. But behold! For the Swiss-Asparagus did slice, and dice and was capable of turning itself into julienne fries! And so it seemed that the two mighty warriors were evenly matched and that their struggle would never come to and end. They didst charge at each other with a terrible noise and clamor, and the skies did shake and the earth did tremble at the ferocity of their mighty blows! The stereotypical Asparagus Sword didst fail to hit its mark and eon337 did mock the Sword for itâ€™s falling.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: On 8-15-03, 7:52 NST, eon337 and preggypreggy grabbed some Asparagus Themed weapons and fought. They made fun of each otherâ€™s weapons, and generally kept missing each other every time they swung.

''And eon337 did think long and ponderous and in so doing converted the puny Swiss-Asparagus into the mighty and powerful toothpick. And the masses did gleam the significance of this act and they were awed by the grace and cunning of the wooden speck. And preggypreggy was immune to the verbal slings and arrows of her foe, and refused to be disheartened by eon337â€™s dishonorable insults. Her claim being that function of a weapon is to be put before the ornate form. She endeavored to thwart eon337â€™s plans to defeat her with the great and wondrous toothpick. She didst again pummel the air with her sword, but in her enthusiasm her blows didst fall far from their mark. And the masses didst cheer for eon337 as she had impressed them greatly and they made the sounds of impressive wonder.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Eon337 turned a perfectly good Swiss-Asparagus into a toothpick to gain the approval of the studio audience. The audience oooed and awed. Preggypreggy continued to swing wildly around, missing each time. She ignored eon337â€™s insult and said that at least her sword worked.

''And then a new challenger didst arrive at the arena and scoobychick6900 didst fling bowls of asparagus at the fighting mortal enemies. Preggypreggy appealed to the masses, but to no avail, and was heartily surprised when the asparagus did hit her. And â€˜Lo! The masses didst condemn scoobychick6900 loudly and vehemently and there was much rejoicing in the land. Preggypreggy didst fancy that she had perhaps met scoobychick6900 previously, and so did attempt to recollect when. Eon337 did take advantage of the lull in action and did attack preggypreggy with her finger. Preggypreggy did retaliate with the awe-inspiring SuperPoke, and eon337 was laid low upon the ground in agony.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Scoobychick6900 showed up and threw bowls of asparagus. Eon337 poked preggypreggy, and preggypreggy poked back, harder. Eon337 was hurt.

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">And with victory in her mighty vision, preggypreggy didst decide to reveal her secret weapon, and with a fancy hand movement, revealed the extent of her traitorous ways. For all know that the bagels and the doughnuts didst disband in ancient times of old. Preggypreggy, through her treacherous methods, had obtained the Flying Doughnut of Doom and didst endeavor to use it. Eon337 was readily prepared for such an occurrence and didst arm herself with mighty ear-shields, armor that didst repel all projectiles of metal, a head covering, and an outer covering of strange, transparent material that didst snap whence it was squeezed. Aragorns_cutie then didst show up with the almighty nemesis broccoli and an unnecessary sneer upon her countenance. _Radical_girl_ did break the protocol and didst claim to rather fight with cucumbers, and so it was done. And the masses rejoiced. And eon337 didst not hear the newcomers because of her mighty ear-shields, and didst offer the fighters dressings for their wounds.

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Preggypreggy revealed that she had a secret weapon from Ancient Times, although eon337 was prepared for it, with earmuffs, bulletproof armor, and bubble wrap. Two new fighters showed up and did random things. Eon337 offered Band-Aids.

''And aragorns_cutie didst laugh in a manic way, and didst wave the broccoli to and fro in a threatening manner. And eon337 did finally recognize the newcomers, and ask, neigh, commanded they give preggypreggy healing strips. And _radical_girl_ didst howl furiously and implored the fighters to meet their DOOOOOOOOM. And so hiamplidude didst come to the battle and didst posses the almighty Asparagus Cannon, and did thinkest himself invincible. Following himaplidude camst nemmisis_dude, who didst offer the warriors ponderous messages such as: THIS TRULY WORKS! POST THIS IN 10 DIFFERENT BOARDS AND YOU WILL FIND A BABY PAINTBRUSH WHEN YOU GO TO CHAT PREFERENCE AND 10000000000NPS! THIS TRULY WORKS, TRUST ME. And the warriors didst consider nemmisis_dude a profit, who was devoted to speaking in tongues so as to convey a message from the gods. And â€˜Lo! Nemmisis_dude didst reveal his Bow and Asparagus and the masses rejoiced. And eon337 didst intimidate her foes by snapping her transparent covering and shrieking that she was invincible.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Random stuff happened, and more people showed up. Someone spammed the message board so people ignored it and eon337 went crazier

''And â€˜Lo! The writer of this cheesy epic didst realize that virtually every sentence begins with â€œandâ€, and the masses rejoiced. _radical_girl_ didsâ€™t chase random people with her broccolis, and didst miss in her mighty swings. Hiamplidude didst take out nemmisis_dude, and gloried in his honor and didst receive a spinach gun from the gods. . Preggypreggy was threatened by the randomness, and didst call her secret weapon, the Mighty Evil Flying Donut Of Doom! Eon337 realized preggypreggyâ€™s unprecedented treachery and didst cower in her impotence before one so Dark and Fluffy. And aragorns_cutie had ex-lax and _radical_girl_ didst covet invincibility and so did don a pool covering. Nemmisis_dude was revealed to be unharmed by hiamplidude, and didst fire at preggypreggy with an asparagus gun. But preggypreggy didst forget one thing: eon337 still possessed the support of the ignorant masses, which guaranteed her inevitable victory. And preggpreggy scoffed at eon337â€™s supposed advantage and didst claim that even the ravenous horde of the people didst not conceive of her one vulnerable point. And preggypreggy didst close her mind to the truth: the dark side is fluffy.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Preggypreggy called the Flying Donut of doom and eon337 called preggypreggy a traitor. The newcomers did random tings, and eon337 reminded everyone that she still had the support of the studio audience. Preggypreggy refused to see it as an advantage, and refused to believe that she was on the Dark, Fluffier Side.

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">And behold, for eon337 didst transform the Asparagus Toothpick into a Aspara-Launcher and didst call preggypreggy deceived in her way of thinking, for the Dark Side is always Fluffier. And preggypreggy didst call forth the creamed cheese from the bowels of the Evil Flying Donut of Doom and the masses did rejoice, and wallowed in the fattening substances that fell from the air like a gift of mana from the gods. And eon337 didst fire projectiles at preggypreggy and unexpectedly mimicked the holy Matrix in her cries of â€œDodge thisâ€. And neoshadow08 didst arrive and inquire as to whether rubber chickens were allowed, and the multitudes said yes. Preggypreggy, in her infinite wisdom, failed to see the connection between Darkness and Fluffiness, and was so forsaken by the masses. And greyratt didst claim to have invented a new, spookier type of asparagus that never caught on, and the multitudes rejoiced. Preggypreggy didst dodge the projectile, and gained honor amongst the masses. As the theological debate about the Dark, Fluffier Side raged on, the newcomers fought with the dung of dogs, the chickens of rubber and other such unorthodox weaponry as greyratt didst play with discarded asparagus.

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Some stuff happened here. No, really! Eon337â€™s toothpick became an Aspara-Launcher, and preggypreggy and eon337 argued about whether the Dark Side was Fluffy or not. Neoshadow08 and greyratt came, and did stuff. Preggypreggy released cream cheese from the Flying Donut of Doom.

''And eon337 didst revealth that she didst posses the Ultimate Asparagus Themed Weapon, too terrible to be named, oh, what the heckth, the name didst ring and was The Thermo-Asparagus-Nuclear-Weapon. And preggypreggy didst begin to crack under the strain of the Squeak of Death, and so in his infinite understanding, neoshadow08 didst remove the Squeak of Death and didst replace it with the Chic Attack. Aragorns_cutie didst protest the violence, and didst consume the flavorful tomato paste. And moonbeam998 didst come, a magical priestess full of arcane knowledge. Her mighty glance didst fall upon the warriors and she didst proclaim: THIS TRULY WORKS! POST THIS IN TEN DIFFERENT BOARDS AND YOU WILL FIND A BABY PAINTBRUSH WHEN YOU GO TO CHAT PREREFERENCE AND 10000000000NPS! THIS TRULY WORKS, TRUST ME! And the warriors were mystified by her meaning, but verily they didst decide that it meant for them to continue their holy battle, in the name of whatever great and mysterious god moonbeam998 didst represent. Scoobychick6900 didst return to pummel the warriors with bowels of asparagus, as in times of old.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Eon337 got out the Thermal-Asparagus-Nuclear-Weapon, and neoshadow08 stopped squeaking and started the Chick Attack. Yet another person spammed the message board, and was equally ignored. Scoobychick6900 returned.

''And neoshadow08â€™s baby chickens didst fall unto the warriors from the sky, and didst pummel the brave fighters unmercifully. And scoobychick6900 didst offer to the warriors magical rainbow colored pellets, which she didst hurl at them forcefully with a gun. The magic pellets were then revealed to be the chickenâ€™s only weakness. And the warriors were locked in a deadly struggle, each using their unique methods and weapons. And the masses didst rejoice yet again. And then â€˜Lo! For preggypreggy was forced to valiantly flee the battlefield, and acceded the victory to eon337. And the masses looked confused. Eon337 didst admit that preggypreggy didst fight a valiant battle. Skuld815 didst arrive and didst proclaim the battle strange and didst fling M & Mâ€™s at the warriors. And scoobychick6900 didst proclaim that Rice Krispies were much more powerful than other weapons, and didst think that she was the only warrior left. She did wail with despair as she didst discover that eon337 remained in the land of the living.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: Neoshadow08 caused chickens to fall from the sky, and scoobychick6900 fired skittles at people. Preggypreggy had to leave, and skuld815 showed up. Scoobychick6900 thought she was the last fighter left, but was not.

''And eon337 and scoobychick6900 were locked in a deadly struggle, candy versus vegetables. And neoshadow08 didst summon the Great Banana for advice, and the masses were stunned. Oh, the ground did shake, and the mountains trembled. The very stars became irregular in their rotations. And so the Great Banana was called, and it was good. And scoobychick6900 revealed that she had indeed blasphemed against the Great Banana and she didst quake in terror and attempted to corrupt eon337 into blaspheming as well. And shadow9441414 didst arrive with two prodigious asparagus swords. And spicychibie didst arrive and was proven to be crazier than all others, and the masses were impressed. Behold! Eon337 didst prostrate herself before the might of the Great Banana and didst beg for his aid in defeating scoobychick6900, and the Great Banana didst forgive eon337 and giveth her a banana. And spicychibie didst partake of the asparagus and didst faint. And the Great Banana didst advise eon337 to not rely on the strength of others, but to rely on the strength within. And scoobychick6900 didst appeal to the Great Banana and didst beg for forgiveness. And the Great Banana didst not make a reply, but instead didst close his eyes and did a perfect mimicry of sleep. And scoobychick6900 didst blasphemy again and didst explode bombs of rainbow color. And eon37, in the callow impatience of youth, didst detonate the Thermal-Asparagus-Nuclear-Weapon. And the masses were blown away. As the smoke, and rubble and debris were dissipated, behold! The Great Banana was vanquished! And eon337 didst lament this fate, for her weapon hadst been aimed at scoobychick6900. And scoobychick6900 didst revel in the defeat of the Great Banana, and didst stab at eon337 with its decapitated stem. And neoshadow08 was forced to choose sides, and â€˜Lo he choose eon337! And the warriors didst depart, if not friends, then less angry enemies. And so ends the first of: The Asparagus Wars Chronicles.''

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Translation: While eon337 and scoobychick6900 fought, neoshadow08 called the Great Banana. Scoobychick6900 claimed to have eaten the banana the previous night, and feared the bananaâ€™s wrath. The Great Banana was defeated, and everyone decided that the war was over.

<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Wasn't that entertaining? Seeya! I'm back! Woooooooooooo! Guess what? Yep! *happy wiggle dance* I gots the first shipment of the much needed (pictures of) supplies for the Official Flaming-Chickens Lunar Colony! Woooooo! I feels the happy! This has been a short announcment to document the happy wigglienss that is me. Seeya! I'm back. And vaguely depressed. For the longest time, random people have been coming to my site, and staying 0.00 seconds! How is this possible? Do they not even  look<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> at my site? How can they be so cruel, to click, but not look? Grrr.... I asked Santa why this was so...but he doesn't talk to me anymore, after that incident when I was a kid. You see...*start wavy flashback lines and dreamy music* When I was a kid...or whatever...I asked Santa for nuclear warheads, helicopters, tanks...and possibly legions of doom. No, seriously! (I was twelve and forced to communicate with Santa so that my younger siblings did not guess the truth...(what truth?)...there is no spoon. (badly done Matrix parody)) Anyway...Santa didn't come through. The creep! How was I supposed to conquer the world without those supplies? All I got was a Lion King video and other random stuff. How did this help me? I vowed revenge against Santa...after all, it would have benefited him to help me. Once I was the Undisputed Lord of the Universe, the world would have been a spooky place. And all the little children wouldn't have been "good" anymore, since they would be free of thier Authoritarian Parental Units and the definition of "good" (to a parent, at least) is to obey your parents and not embarrass them. Soooooo....Santa would have had it easier. No "good" children would have meant that Santa could have had a permanent vacation in the Bahahmas, not molested by my Legions of Doom because after all--he had delivered the world to me in a brightly wrapped gift box. The man would have been more trusted than my trusted Lieutenants! (funny word...had to use spell check to spell it ^^;;) But that jolly old IDIOT had to mess things up. So, to get back at him I not only continued to not believe in him, I attempted to convert all the miniony children at my disposal...(okay not really, the idea just occured to me)...so I ask you *cough* Loyal Reader, to immediatly cease believing in Santa. I figure that--like Tinkerbell--he will evenutally perish if he doesn't have enough people believing in him. What is this? You wish to rule the world, too? Well, you can't! It's mine! Blasphemy! You dare to challenge MY rule? You are a fool! Okay...yeah...my whole Santa plot IS kinda dumb...but that's just a front so that you never guess my REAL plot! That's right....cower before my power! *insert evil, insane cackle here* I shall defeat you, Anonymous (another tricky word) Reader! Gah! I'd better go before you trace my location thorugh the Internet and send your Governmental Spyders to me! Ooops...I gave you an idea, didn't I? Well, don't use it! It's mine, you are a copy cat! Seeya *appropriate evil glare* I'm back! And, seeying as you MUST be tired of MY ranting, I have a special treat for all you hypothetical two and a half readers out there! You get ranting from somebody else! I won't bother to introduce them, since they do a good job of it themselves...here we go:  ''Hiya. This is not PSOPC today. This is PSOCB (Patron Saint of Carbonated Beverages). We are the two original Head Saints, but for some reason, she gets all the attention. Guess I should get out of bed once in a while huh. Originally, I thought up the whole Patron Saints of the Order of the Flaming Chicken (when I should have been taking notes in Trig), but PSOPC is more creative and she elaborated on it more so. I was drawing "suppressed rage in bunny form" comics then and didn't care. I must say, she's gotten very good at thinking randomy thoughts, whereas, I'm just stoopid and something dumb pops out of my brain like floppy bacon from a toaster. I drank half a bottle of soy sauce today just to see if it gave me x-ray vision, but alas, I had nothing I wanted to look through (okay, I'm lying. I drank the whole thing on a dare.). By the way, soy sauce is gross. Who invented it? --"Why gee whiz, Bert! I think we should mix soy beans with water and have chinese for lunch!!"--"Why, indubitoubly Samson! Not only will it taste like crap, we'll get the runs!!!"-- If you don't know what the "runs" are, consult old people, like my dad. If you are in high school or college and have a job, this works great. When I call in sick (when I'm sick of working, not actually sick), I always have nosey bosses who want to know exactly what my symptoms are and how bad. I found a way to make them not WANT to know. I told my sister to try it once and it worked for her too. You just call up work, use a very retarded, slow, lisping voice when you say this: --"Weeelllllllll, I woked up this mornin' with a terrible headache so I took some aspirin with theraflu. By the way, those don't mix too good, now I have a tummy ache, my nose is runny and bleedin', my spleen feels like its gonna 'splode, I'm a tad gassy, and I got the RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!-- At this point, you'll want to use an annoying high-pitched growly voice (think drunk Barney from The Simpsons after sucking helium balloons), raspberry a few times with your toungue and hang up. I have much to do now, so thus ends this portion of my guest rant. I'll probably want to do this a few more times just because I can. Weeee Bye now! ''<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">I bet you, loyal *hmmm...I don't want a cricket...maybe a nice annoying gnat or something...okay...instead of the cricket...* readers can't wait for the next time I don't rant! Right? Weeeellll...I DO have a topic for today...a topic so wonderful that it will also be included in the next OFCEM! What is this magical topic, you ask? Why, opposite day, of course! You see...er...well...how should I begin? Opposite day is, of course a day in which everything you say means the exact opposite. It is practiced (informally) by many elementary schoolers. I honor this er...honored tradition. But, to my dismay, I discovered a fatal flaw with opposite day. By my reasoning...it COULD NOT EXIST! Yes...I know...blasphemy, right? But it could not be disputed. If you were to tell someone that it WAS opposite day they would have to take the opposite of what you just said which would mean that it WASN'T opposite day. And, of course, if you were to tell someone that it WASN'T opposite day there would be no reason for them to take the opposite of what you said and so it still WOULDN'T be opposite day! Confusing, huh? But I have now seen the light! The answer to this moral dilema has been so neatly resolved, by Jesse. He is er...well...I'm not sure how old...but he is in the third grade. He is either a genius...or really weird like me (Come on, be honest...how many of you random people have put any though into opposite day...or even know about it?) He said that to make it opposite day...*dramatic pause in which the PSOPC stares into space vacantly*...all you had to do was say that it would be opposite day in 5 seconds! PURE GENIUS! Since it is not yet opposite day, you don't have to take the opposite of the statement and so can take it at face value! Do you care, Loyal *gnat/cricket sound* Reader? *stunned* You don't!? Why ever not!? It is the most important discovery since...since...er...since...GRAVITY! (Although it is evil and squishying my spine...) How can you remain apathatic at a time like this!? The fate of mankind has been forever altered! Oh. Yeah...I guess you are right. I AM just rambling so that this Longest Text Ever gets even longer. But I DO care about this topic. There's not even a conspiracy! Well..fine! Be that way! Goodbye! I'm back *twitch* and seriously annoyed. Grrr...time to yet again complain about my *twitch* evil family. It is once again the time of year that makes entire families bond together...in the same sense that cats and dogs bond together when they have rabies. The time...is science fair time. My younger, eviler sister does a science project every single year. *twitch* The concept of science projects strikes fear in my mother's heart. She can not stand them. Naturally, this is why she takes over the project and does it for my little sister. Unfortunatly, this means that I am often called on for my "consultant" abilities. *twitch* In other words, I do the experiment, and think of all the results, and the wording of everything. I then interpret my work for my mother, who writes everything down because she has really, really obsessivly neat handwritting. Of course, my mother gets stressed merely handling paper that will potentionally be USED for a science project, so this is a very, very negative situation. Oh, and my mother refuses to even entertain the notion that my little sister might possibly be of help *twitch*. At this very moment my little sister is watching a Disney movie, while complaining of a headache. *twitch* My mother is getting more and more aggravated as I try to explain that my sister might fail if it looks like she didn't do the project. I am currently on strike. I refuse to assist this project in any further way untill my little sister does freakin' SOMETHING. Wow. Speak of the devil. My sister IS doing something. She is RE-WRITING everything my mother just wrote. Like mother like daughter. *twitch* I guess this is my mother's way to make sure the judges don't know that my sister didn't do the project. My mother makes my sister redo everything over and over again because it's not perfect enough for her. Now she is the one who's getting yelled at. I guess I can't help but feel sorry for my evil sister. *pauses* I guess I'll stop complaining, then. God...I have a headache...seeya. I'm back. *shakes head* And I have (yet again) a rant about the sheer weirdness of my family. Previously I have ranted about our fun-filled family outing to a bar, and about my non-gender specific siblings obsession with dead animals. Somehow, these two occurances have joined in an unholy union to create: The Roadkill Sightseeing Event of Doom! We actually went to a  normal<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> resteraunt for dinner, believe it or not. On the way back, my mother entertained us with the story of how she had seen roadkill that looked exactly like a dead bear. She had later compared notes with one of her wacko friends and they had decided that it was, in fact, a dead wild boar. We would be passing by it in a few minutes. Oh joy. My non-gender specific sibling (henceforth known as my sister) was naturally estatic about these events. She wanted to get out and see the boar. My mother agreed, and wanted my Dad to turn the car around so we could go to Wal-Mart to buy a flash-light. My father refused this. We ended up driving right past the supposed location of the boar, much to the dismay of my sister and mother...and dare I say it? Yes...I dare. My BROTHER was even interested. Faced with direct mutiny from all but me, my father wisely elected to turn the car around. We drove off the road and my dad aimed the car headlights at the boar. I must say, it wasn't that impressive. It was just a lump of black hair, and it was a lot smaller than any bear. My sister was impressed, and it was all I could do to keep her from jumping out of the car to it. My mother was disappointed, saying that the boar had seemed bigger in the daylight. My dad moved the car back and forth, so that we could see the boar on the side of the road more clearly. My mother became terrified and decided that we would flip and die. All to see a boar. After a few minutes, we drove away. My mother seemed upset that I had not been interested in her roadkill. I can't help but feel cheated. Normal families go to museums and theme parks for amusement. We view dead animals. There is something just SLIGHTLY wrong with this. It reminds me of the time a few weeks ago when my mother swore up and down that she saw a grave by the side of the road. This bothered her for some time untill one day she finally pulled over to the side of the road and exhumed the shallow grave and discovered that it was actually a deer. Luckily, I was not with her this day. However, she never leaves any member of our family in the dark concerning roadkill. It's just strange. Anyway, that's the rant for today, seeying as how there was actually a topic. Seeya! I'm back! Seeing how I will shortly no longer be (legally) a child, I have decided to rant about: adults. You cannot deny it. They are EVIL. Think about it! Come, on! Don't be shy! I'm serious. When you think of the evil, conniving, conspiratorial ways of adults, what's the first thing to come to mind? The nursery rhyme, 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', right? Huh? You mean it's NOT!? How...bizzare, it's obviously a mechanism for brain-washing. Anyway, here's MY reasoning for hating the song (and many, many others). Mary Had A Little Lamb makes children resigned to accepting punishment that they don't deserve! You still do not see!? Fine, I shall elaborate. This poor little girl's lamb (with fleece as white as snow--an obvious reference to  <u style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">seeming <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> purity) follows her to school one day (which was, oddly enough, against the rules). The kids at school, who were not used to seeing a lamb at school, started to "laugh and play" and basically act like wild animals. Now (this is all speculation) I am 90% sure that the final verse (which neither I, nor anyone I asked know) deals with the teacher reprimanding poor little Mary in some way. And for what!? The kid's pet followed her to school! How could she stop it, she probably never even thought to look behind her! Not only that, but poor little Mary would never, EVER do such a thing on purpose! Just listen to the SONG for cryin' out loud! The lamb followed HER! She didn't LEAD it! Now, sure, the teacher was probably on her last nerve. I mean, she's an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL TEACHER. She probably doesn't get paid much, or gain much respect from her pupils. So, when the children pretty much went wild over the lamb, and she couldn't calm them, she was looking for someone to blame. And poor little Mary was a ripe target by then. Now, can you honestly picture poor little Mary arguing with her teacher? I didn't think so! Little Mary took her punishment, and her PARENTS were probably so upset that they got rid of her white little lamb. And for what!? A teacher's misbegotten pride? Adult supremecy? I ask you, knowing what you know now, could you (in good faith) read this to a young child (implicitly teaching them that it's best not to argue, to simply lie down and let those older than you walk all over you--for "your own good")? And another thing! You know the lullaby, 'Rock A'Bye Baby', the one about the baby in the tree!? What kind of SICKO wrote it!? This poor baby is up in a tree (not the safest of places) in the middle of a freakin' HURICANE! At the end of the freakin' song, the freakin' BRANCH BREAKS and the baby falls, "cradel and all" (presumably to its death). What about Hanzel and Gretel? It's nothing more than a huge threat! "Now, be good or we'll send you out into the woods to be eaten by the witch." What kind of twisted person does that to children? Ring Around the Rosy? It's a song about the Black Plague, the deadliest plague in mankind's history! When you first got it, you'd get a red spot with a ring around it (Ring around the rosy). During this time, people (mistakenly) thought that stench spread sickeness, so they'd keep "pockets full of posies" to ward of the stench of death around them. "Ashes, Ashes" was originall "Achoo-Achoo", because the dying would be particularly susceptable to colds. "We all fall down"? That's an easy one. We fall down  dead<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">. So, it's obvious that adults don't exactly sugar-coat everything they teach to children. I'm sure I can find more horribly EVIL examples, but I simply don't have the time. Now, granted, there are SOME (but not many) children's stories that are beneficial. Like Snow White, or Cinderlla. Those stories teach children to think for themselves, and occasionally completly ignore the adults around them (as long as they are Evil Step-Parents). Well...I'd better go. *blinks* I wrote a lot today. I suppose I should write other stuff...but...well...I figure you need the break to recover your sanity...*snort* Like you could do THAT! Seeya! I'm back! As I am writing this, I am in the process of adding a navigation bar to the Longest Text Ever. It still is as chaotic as ever, but at least this way people can find certain stuff easier. Like the Official Flaming-Chickens Lunar Colony info. Anyway, that's about all I have to say right now. Seeya! Gah! Fellow Flaming-Chickens, you must see the sheer cool paranoid thinking I have found! Wal-Mart is EVIL!<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> A person (besides me) thinks this! Isn't that cool!? There is even a section on Wal-Mart Subliminal T.V. (tupperware, anyone?)! Anyway, this has been a short public service annoucement. As opposed to one of those long public service announcments that keep on going and going and going. I mean, they just never seem to stop, do they? Just when you think they are finally going to run out of steam, they just charge on and on. It's like torture, or something. Don't those kind of people realize that if they public REALLY cared about the topic, they'd do their own durn research, instead of listening to some self-important moron lecture them about how socially-irresponsible they are? Not that I'm trying to prove a point. Quite the contrary: I am merely extending the lenght of this Longest Text Ever to provide an ironic example of self-important morons who just won't stop talking. Isn't it entertaining? Don't you just want to here my entire life's story, starting from age 2? You don't? Well...perhaps I really SHOULD leave...what do you think? Er...well...seeya! Yep. I'm back. *traumatic pause* This weekend I went to go visit my future college. It was the most traumatizing experience of my life, to date. The day before I got there the college had won a basketball game and were going to the finals. This naturally caused parties to break out all over campus. According to one guy, a couch was "set on fire". *sigh* I was "hosted" (along with two other girls) by some bubbly, perky Greek (sorority (sp?)) girl. I hate her so much. She never shut up. She was so shallow. She wanted us to join a sorority, just like her. (all paraphrased) Ex. 1 "I would NEVER have passed my classes if I hadn't gone Greek". Ex. 2 "I just don't see HOW I would have, like, ya' know, managed ANYTHING without my sisters!" If I never see her again it will be too soon. Her idea of entertainment was to take us to the recreational center, sit us down in the gym and talk to her friends while watching the guys (badly, this IS an engineering school after all) attempt to play basketball. Apparantly all the decent players were at the final game thingy. Then she took us to the fraternity next to her house (we didn't even get to "experience" sleeping in an actual dorm). The fraternity was disgusting. There must have been 1000 flies, 100 beer bottles, 50 Bud Lite cans, and 5 creepy dudes who were attempting to practice music for some competition. After about three hours of this, I almost snapped. Me and another girl were supposed to be watching T.V., but due to the evil, out of tune, incredibly loud band, this proved to be impossible. My "host" and the girl who was enthusiastic about "going Greek" were swimming in a heated pool. The other girl (who also hated to swimn) and I started to talk. There was nothing else really to do. She hated our host and hated the fraternity/Greek thing too. We talked for awhile, and some dude joined us. He was cool. He was regional STAR student for another area. Somehow we got onto the topic of religion, and it turned out that the other girl I was with was Muslim, and was born in Egypt. It was cool. Anyway, it was just the two of us girls in the entire FREAKIN' fraternity (not counting the two swiming girls, downstairs. The floor was greasy, and oddly sticky--just like a movie theater. When our "host" finnally said we could go, it was close to 2 a.m. I barely got any sleep...grrr...not to mention the fact that we had walk to breakfast by 8:00 a.m. Oh. Silly me. I forgot to mention a key difficulty. We had to WALK EVERYWHERE! Uphill! (But not in the freezing snow, for 15 miles). You have not experinced Jenny's personal Hell untill you have carried your luggage (including a trash bag containing a sleeping back and the trash bags plastic handley-thingies are rapidly stretching out to become lethal weapons similar to piano wire) uphill, upstairs, across campus and up the four or five flights to the breakfast area, only to discover that, Oh! Gee, there was an ELEVATOR that the "host" conviently forgot to mention. Even more evil stuff happened, but suffice it to say that when I finally saw my dad at lunch, I begged him to just skip the final sessions because they were pointless (how to choose your major) and go home. He went ahead with his sessions, but let me opt out of mine and I slept for 50 minutes on some random couch in the lobby. Oh. And then the 6 hour drive home. *shudders* As you can tell, I am still seriously miffed about the whole experience. Sorry for ranting... Well...there WAS some good things about the whole experience. For one thing, it was the first time I'd ever been in a big city. The sky line was beautiful! Er...yeah...that was about it. Did I mention the uphill walking part? I did? Oh. Well. Then. I guess I'm done. Seeya! I'm back! And I'm here with a Vital Public Service Anouncment for all of my two and a half Loyal, Hypothetical Readers! Don't you feel all special inside? Oh. Yeah. The anouncment. BEWARE OF YOUR OWN FRENCH FRIES. That's correct. French fries. You see, it all started one friday afternoon *start wavy flashback sequence* My friends and I were sitting down to a tasty lunch of Skool Brand food. This included, tragically, french fries. Oh, what a fateful day. It seems like it was only yesterday when we were so carefree and innocent...when in fact it was actually only a few hours ago. You see, we inadvertantly started a mini-food fight that spilled over into a neighboring table, which also housed our friends. Said friends began flingning the aformentioned French Fries at us. I shudder to think of how we had laughed and frolicked and otherwise remained oblivious to the tragedy that had yet to unfold. For, you see...the french fires were...pointy...and hard. And Fate herself seemed to conspire against us (just like the Skool, government, evil cartoon owl, etc.) One single solitary french fry pierced my friend's guard and hit her on the nose with the sharpest, hardest tip a french fry has ever been known to produce. We calmed down, and thought nothing of our near brush with Death. After all, what can a FREAKIN' FRENCH FRY do, right? Ahhh...to be so young and naive again. Time passed, as it always does, and  "Meg"<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> noticed a speck of something on our friend who had been hit by the projectile french fry. The friend (Tonileigh, actually) wiped the speck, only to discover that it was blood. THE FRENCH FRY HAD DRAWN BLOOD! It was obviously an evil, voodoo french fry sent to assasinate her by the mysteriously evil Cafeteria Lunch Ladies who needed Tonileigh's blood for their accursed voodoo spells. Fortunatly, the quick thinking of  "Meg"<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> saved us all and the lunch ladies never obtained their goal. Oh. And here is yet ANOTHER VERY, VERY, VERY IMPORTANT PUBLIC SERVICE THINGY. Tag, you're it! These words have haunted nearly ever playground in existance. "Tag" is practically all a child learns in kindergarten. There is not a person alive who has not played some version of the game. And yet...what, exactly is "it"? When defining it for my  Pronoun Quiz<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> I reffered to "it" as something that "mankind has dreaded for centuries". What made me say such a thing. What is it about the unknown, mysterious and faintly ominous "it" that makes people dread it so much? Even the most innocent of children know that to be "it" is to be a virtual outcast of society. The youngest child knows that no sane person would want to be "it". Recently a group of TAB members, myself included, set about finding out what "it" exactly is. We conducted "field research" (we played a game of tag). When I became "it" I declared that I was touching the bench I was standing on so it became "it" and the bench was touching the ground, and the ground was touching everything on earth, except for airplanes and stuff but even the ground was touching AIR which was touching more air and so on and so on untill the very AIR was touching the airplanes and the airplanes became "it". So...the entire earth has actually been "it" from the first game of tag and WE JUST NEVER KNEW IT! I know, I'm just as shocked as you, Hypothetical Reader. *shakes head* And all along we had thought that we could somehow absolve ourselves of the burden of being "it" simply by passing it on to another. But that is not true. We merely pass the  awareness of being "it" on<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> but never the actual quality of being "it". The question was raised: Where did the first "it" on Earth come from. It was a thought provoking question. Some thought that perhaps the first person to invent tag was the original "it". I, however, favored an extraterristrial origin. My current theory is that the meteor that supposidly killed off the dinosaurs was the original "it", and that it "tagged" the earth, thereby causeing the earth to be "it". The dinosaurs, of course, could not handle the burden of being "it" which resulted in mass suicides. The mammals, being nothing but idiot rodents at the time, couldn't care less about being "it" and eventually forgot all about it. Until, that is, some half-remembered special memory popped out of some five year old's brain and he/she invented tag. Some people found holes in my theory: How did the meteor become "it"? After much discussion and deliberation, we came to a group consensus that the so called "Big Bang" was actually all the players of the game scattering. Similar to the beggining of a game of tag or hide-n-go-seek. The players begin huddled together, but when the game starts they scatter and flee from the person/planet/rock who is "it". The only difference I can think of is that rather than passing the "it"ness on, the players merely add to the number of people who are already "it". My theory would also account for the current scientific opinion that the planets/galaxy/universe is moving away from the origin point of the Big Bang. After all, if there's no base, why return to where you started? You wanna put as much distance between you and your pursuers as possible. Critics wanted to go further, was anyone "it" BEFORE the Big Bang. My arguement is this: No one is "it" before you begin a game. Any "it" before the Big Bang was part a seperate game, and would therefore be considered a different "it" from the "it" that we fear so much. So I believe the question to be a moot point. *blinks* What's that, Loyal Reader? I have confused you with my trivalties? You do not understand my obsession with "it"? Shame on you, Reader! Haven't you learned yet that it's my JOB to confuse you and make no sense? Tsk-Tsk. Oh, well. Gotta go! I'm back, but only for about five seconds. Just a little side note here: Remember that rant I did about "pure" water? (don't even get me started) In it I mentioned that fast-food salt lists its ingredients, right? Well, here they are! *takes package of Burger King Iodized Salt out of pocket* Drumroll please...and the ingredients are: salt, sodium silico aluminate, dextrose, and 0.01% potassium iodide. Wasn't that painstakenly accurate? A hundreth of a percente of the salt was potassium iodide! You can't get much more accurate than that. Don't you think that "pure" water has much MORE than 0.01% of some random mineral? Why don't THEY list it, huh? *shakes head* *mutters* Evil, "pure" water companies... *wanders off muttering to self and acting like a crazy hobo* Seeya... I'm back! And I have yet another footnote to a previous rant! You remember that "infinite possibilities" rant? Here's a quote from a supposed  Time Traveler<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">: "Every possible thing that can happen or will happen has already happened somewhere." I love it! Here's another one: "On a philosophical level, the existence of multiple worlds implies a moral balance in the superverse. For every worldline you perform a good action, there is a worldline where you perform a bad action. There are no good and bad people, just good and bad decisions. We can only be responsible for what we do as individuals on the worldline we are on now. " These are all exactly what I've been thinking of when I first came up with my infinite universe thingy to tell my little brother when he was bored and wanted his head to explode! Seeya! I'm back. And I just wanted to say that I went to Islands of Adventure (in Universal Studios) yesterday. It was incredible! If you wanna here about the awesome rides, (esp. the Spiderman ride, best 3-d effects and vitual reality I've EVER seen...) just click  [http://www.thrillride.com/SpecialFeatures/Islands/islands.html here. ]<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">*shrugs* This way, if you don't wanna here me rant about it, you can here some guy PAID to rant about it rant about. But if you don't want to, you don't got to. Seeya! I'm back! Wow...*shakes head* My mother never ceases to be amusing. Since today IS mother's day, I shall devot this text to her...even if it is a bit of satire or whatever. You see...my mother has found a new "religion". She is reading some book written by some bimbo who has been to "the other side" and conversed with her "spirt guardian" or whatever and decided to share her "relevations" with people willing to pay a lot of money for garbage. At least...that's my opinion of it. My mother, however, takes it all VERY seriously. For instance, today at our (almost normal) dinner out she instructed me on the way to get to heaven. It involved opening a door. Seriously. Anyway...apparantly once you perish in this realm you are taken to a set of doors. The door on the right leads directly to heaven (do not pass "Go" do not collect $200). The door on the left "zaps you into someone's uterus" which, loosely translated, means that you get reincarnated. This is the "bad" choice. I know this because my sister expressed an intrest in being reincarnated and my mother looked at her with an expression of horror and said solemnly that if she did that "God would never forgive" her. She then proceded to tell us that if you were reincarnated you had to live out multiple lives until you were ready for heaven. *shakes head* Maybe I'm missing something, but if "God would never forgive" someone who innocently chose the wrong freakin' door, wouldn't that indicate that such a person would be barred from heaven forever? Isn't there just the SLIGHTEST bit of inconsistancy here? Why would somebody get punished by randomly choosing the wrong (apparantly unlabeled) door? Look. I don't mean to offend...~.< If you happen to be part of this religion (which prophecies Elvis's return sometime this year (2004) as "a blond hair, blue-eyed boy") then that's your choice. I definitly don't want to get in any theological debates here. So...I'll move on the a relatively safer topic. The National Enquirer. They're obsessed with Elvis, too, for some reason. I just don't understand why people care. I mean, Elvis is always reported as being: abducted by aliens, frozen in a tube in Area 51, having a brain transplant and is now the Pop-Star Britney Spears, and stuff like that. One song I've heard even equates Elvis with Jesus, for cryin' out loud! ("You're no Jesus, You're no Elvis" (From Megolomaniac, by some band). Why do people obsess over that poor, most likely dead, man? The world may never know. ( And don't even get me started on Tootsie Roll Pops). Anyway, I guess my point is that the book my mom is reading has a similar dedication to accuracty, hard-hitting facts and common sense as the famed National Enquirer (which confidently predicted several months ago that Michael Jackson's "secret Muslim bride" would exonerate all charges of child molestation against him. Which, in case you live on the moon, has NOT happened and probably never will). Anyhoo, that's my rant for the day...I'll probably post something in l33t eventually...seeya! I am back. (REAL introduction: Heh-Heh…I had ANOTHER sugar rush. And I was just a little bit hysterical. The following is my intro I wrote while sugar rushed, and various messages I sent to people while in the same state. Don’t worry if you can’t understand it…you aren’t supposed to. *sigh* The whole thing is just a blur of those wiggly red lines spell-check uses to tell you that stuff is spelled wrong…) I back! hee-hee! here is ANother sugar coated rant! and I am typing the intro while still hyper/slepepy. you see, i drank Sobe energy drink, a cup of sugar (just sugar) and ate cake (yet agina, late at night). So this was the result in various messages I left random peolple.  <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">*giigleing * Heee0-Heeeee! Sugar isf so very good1 and so is Sobe energy drink (sobe stands for 'soper'! *wavres hand* you see, i THOUGHT that i had recovered because i am no longler laughing so much! But, as you can see I do'nt think I'm am quite baCK TO normal. yet. whatever normal is... i am swayinhg to an imaginary breeze!@ and i don't care that i amn missplesling so many workds. because i am sure you will figure it wout someohow. il am very creative with words. do you like sugar? why DILD you get all freaky like me when i ate suo much sugart. ? zI vcan'y believe that we actually did that to thos e magazines...we so stupid. erm...ummmmm...i sure do hope we remember all of this. don't forget: we owe the library $4 each. That was all spel;ed coirecltly because it was important. i want to sleep now. but ever ei nlsince i ate that cup of sugrar it is to tired t o sleep. imagineation that. er jd f....er...eum...ye ah. *scurnches up eyebrows* Heh-Heh...the Song of Solumnun. good wuvs EVERYBODY! those incompetent physics/stupid rays must have really hit ius hard! either (say it so it rhymes with neither )with an long "I" sound)) that or we were jhust especially suseptible to the thing-a-ma-bnobober.s will wyou right me cback? i hope so. it'll be especially great if you right me when you are all sugary, too. who says you need drugs or thwatherver to have fun? sugar is very cheap, and makes everything so very, very funhy. *slams hand on tasble* OUch. That hurnt. Iam still wet from the watergun fight. It rocked! All that shorrtting and stuff! I got so many head-shots...er...can your brother see yet? I'm sorry i hit his eyes...dozens of times in a row. It was just so fun! we should do that somethimg again. you guys weren't taking it very seriously, though... *snickers* Hee-kheee...funny stuff. I ate a CUP of sugar. mmmm...sugar...I wis swaying in the place. Sugar and me, we don't g et along so well since I react to it like most people react to beingg drunk or under the ijnnnclunce of other suttff. Oh, god...sugar. i'm gonnat add another sugar rant to the longest text ever (just two ever)!sand for people who dont' know me...know,...i do k not do stuff. It's just that sugar under the wright surcumstances is doin' stuff... <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Okay. Is done. Mike the Headlessc hickrn day is coming up! seeya later! I'm back. It has been a year since the Evil Graduation Post. Which means that this year I got to attend my OWN graduation. Woo. I must say that I was rather underwhelemed by the whole thing. *shrugs* Sure, the fireworks were spectacular...and there was BEAUTIFUL weather. Cool, (not sufficatingly hot) absolutly no gnats for the first time in YEARS, no rain, just nice, soothing speeches that made absolulty no sense. At one point, our priniciple yelled at the graduating class because we weren't listening to him. The audience (consisting of parents) booed at him. So the principal yells at the PARENTS! What was he THINKING!? It's a good thing he's leaving, soon, because otherwise he'd probably been fired. Anyway, I just wanted to warn you of the dangers of broccolii: It's a form of lichen/moss that grows abundantly on certain sectors of Mars. In recent years, it has been cultivated by farmers into a semi-toxic product meant to augment the on-going brain-washing of young children, with the sole purpose being to turn them into Young Adults. Seeya! I'm back. I'm just gonna be here for a little while *demonstrates with fingers* so you don't have to worry 'bout crazy, paranoid rants. I just wanted to mention that former President Reagan apparantly declared ketchup to be a vegetable. Isn't that GREAT! I love ketchup so much...I don't even like FRIES...I eat 'em 'cause they are a means to convey KETCHUP to my mouth...mmmm....ketchup. Oh. Poor, poor Reagan ( he died last week...) Hasta Luego (means seeya later) I'm back. *sigh* This dang  chatterbot<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> is taking up WAY too much of my time! There's constantly things that needed fixing, updating and improving! Bah! But, I'm obsessed, and I've always been interested in simulated artificial intelligence :) Anyway, I'm making her personality really paranoid (she's based on me). Here are her thoughts concerning cows: *glances around* Just between you and me: I think there is some sort of dairy conspiracy! Ah, the power of cheese! Think about it: they are trying to sub-consciously tell you that THEY hold the power...of CHEEESE! And there are few things more powerful than THAT! Plus, the so-called "dairy farmer's of America" who pay for the Cheese commercials OBVIOUSLY have a virtual monopoly on the whole dairy thing. They even require that cheese get that little "real cheese" stamp before anyone considers it to be REAL cheese. Have you ever tasted fake cheese?<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> Anyway, my point is that it is getting increasingly harder to find the time to make new quizzes, (or add pics to that destiny quiz), and to make coherent entries into this longest text ever. *sniffle* I try, though! It's just that it's so FUN to teach PSOPC bot subtle things, that maybe one in every 1000 visitor will stumble on to! Like, when she accuses you of being on of THEM, and you say "yes" she starts to panic, and won't listen to you unless you say somthing to get her attention. Ahhhhhhh. Well, anyway, enough about my little obsession. No sense in boring you all with the little technicall details (frankly, pandorabots has the training interface done really well...there is almost no need to know ANYTHING about programming...which, frankly...I don't...^^;;) Er....I guess that's all I have to say now...I don't really have much more parnoid conspiracies or strange observations to make. Er...I guess I could discuss something that has already become obsolete. Have you ever been to subway? You have, *nods* yeah...I love that place, too. Anywaaaays, I went there once and I noticed a poster in the window. It showed people of every size, shape and color, all of them in little pics in little neat boxes. The text read: Different People Differnt Tastes. Okay. I could easily see what it was TRYING to say: There is something for EVERYONE at Subway (eat fresh). But my very first thought was: Whoa, hey, are they CANNIBALS!? Because I interpretted it to mean that different people TASTED differnt, and that's what the subs were made out of and why there was such a great variety. Er...I know, Hypothetical Reader...not the best example of my eccentric thought proccess...but it's the first one that came to mind. *sigh* You know, come to think of it, I bet I HAVE dwindled back down to two and half readers (if that). After all...look how LONG this thing is getting! And, well, quite frankly, people are mostly contacting me about PSOPC bot, the OFCEM or the Quizzes, and *sniffle* mostly ignoring this little (note the irony) page. Well, seey later! I'm back. And, for the first time in quite some time, I am truly pissed off...and this is the only way I can vent my anger. Gah! Well, I suppose you'll need to know some back story, huh. (WARNING: CONTENTS OF THIS PASSAGE MAY CONTAIN DANGEROUSLY LOW LEVELS OF HUMOR, IRONY AND SARCASM. READING THIS PASSAGE MAY CAUSE THE FOLLOWING SYMPTOMS: LACK OF INTEREST, BOREDOM AND A GENERAL SENSE THAT THIS IS NOT LIKE NORMAL RANTS ABOUT PARANOIA, STRANGE OBSERVATIONS AND FAMILY QUIRKS) To begin with, I JUST got a job as a cashier slave at K-Mart. NEVERMIND the fact that I've worked at the daycare for A WHOLE YEAR, just so I wouldn't have to work for my final Summer of Freedom. Apparantly, my dad does not want me to actually USE any of the money I made from my previous job to buy college supplies. Instead, he wants me to learn the horrors of minimum wage employment and induce me to to strive to succede in the college world. NEVERMIND the fact that my previous job gave me LESS money...I apparantly STILL need to understand that there is more to life than $5.50 an hour. GAH! I KNEW that most jobs sucked unless you had a degree (and even then, most STILL sucked)! Why bother to teach me THE SAME FREAKIN' LESSON AGAIN!? Eh. I didn't argue, mostly 'cause my dad IS paying for most of the college expenses...so I am grateful. I just hate K-Mart. So...today was my biggest shift ever, from 3 pm to 8 pm. It's the latest I've ever worked, too. I know it's NOTHING compared to a full time job...but it's still enough to make me snap. FIRST OF ALL...well...there weren't a lot of customers during the first half of my shift. Blessing, or horrible boredom? In either case, I managed to obtain a Bag of Air from a purse someone bought, and (true to form) instead of discarding said air bag, I drew a face on it and decided that it was my pet, Bag. Oh, me and Bag had great times. I taught Bag how to return (I threw him at a fan and he blew into my face). I introduced Bag to a customer I knew (after they left and I was alone, even I knew that talking to a Bag is weird). *sigh* I hugged and squeezed Bag harder than I have ever squeezed a Moose, because I knew that Bag didn't have stuff like organs. The worst that could have happened that he would have exploded in my face, blinding me forever. Ahhhhh...Bag. Then...*sniffle* tragedy struck. I left my register to get something to restock the candy...and when I came back...Bag was missing! Frantic, I looked around, and saw, before my very eyes, a fellow cashier puncture my precious Bag with a key! They had thought that Bag was garbage! I had customers and so I had to deal with them, with a false smile plastered painfully on my face, while all the while I was repeating over and over the horrible scene. Once the customers left (after what seemed like an eternity) I rushed over to wear I had seen Bag. He wasn't there. I looked in the garbage can...he wasn't there. I looked in some nearby boxes...he wasn't there. I couldn't ASK the other cashier what she had done with Bag...no one at K-Mart knows my true weird nature yet. So...I regretfully had to forego giving Bag his needed funeral respects. We had some good times together...and we had JUST started to bond when his life was ended. I knew that it would happen, eventually. Even if I had managed to bring him home, I would eventually have lost interest. Bag was the perfect companion for my boring hour and a half. But Bag was no more. As the time dragged on, more and more customers came. During the last hour, the customers started to dwindle off (cool word, huh...dwindle...say it! Dwiiiiiindle...) I was once again left bored. I eventually grabbed a piece of cardboard (hmmmm...that came discarded from a bag I sold, too...coincidence? I think not!) and started to draw a cute little bunny and a tiger...(GAH! I think I left that at the register...I bet that EVIL other cashier is throwing it away, right NOW!). I was able to draw in peace for a while, with only the most minor of customer interruptions. Then...the other Cashier went on her brake. We are allowed 15 minutes for our breaks. She went 17 minutes before I my shift was over. Can you guess what happened? *sigh* I HAD been planning to close up shop at about 7:53 and clock out on TIME for once ( I usually close when I'm supposed to leave and end up clocking out 5 minutes after). So...I am looking forward to doing a little shopping (for hand-held Nerf guns) before my parental unit came to pick me up. So, predict, if you will, what happend exactly 10 mintues before I was going to close. You can't? Well...let me tell you: EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THE STORE APPARANTLY DECIDED THAT IT WAS TIME FOR THEM TO LEAVE. Not all at once, oh, no, they were more subtle than that. At first, all I felt was mild annoyance. I even thought, oh, I guess I won't finish my pic. Then, ten more people were in the line. I thought about asking the last person to prevent more people from entering, but I though, Hey, why bother? It's not as if there can be many more people in the store, right? Wrong. As I widdled (another cool word) my way through the customers, MORE KEPT COMING. After barely having any ALL DAY, all of them swarmed like a hive of malevolent bees. GRRRRRR... This time I DID ask the last person to keep others out. Everyone seemed to be amused. I was the only cashier, where would other people go? I explained that they could check out at the service deck, which was an exhausting 25 ft away (I was more polite though). Finnally. It was 8:05 and I was on my last customer. I was irratated that I wouldn't have enough time to get the Nerf gun, but other than that I was just eager to get home. Ahhh...those last customers. I think they were sent just to try my patience. First of all, they bought a few expensive items. They gave me a gift card, and they still had $59 left to pay. They tried to pay with credit, but it turned out they didn't have enough dough in their account to pay. So, they wrote me a check for half the ammount, and then tried to pay the rest with credit. The credit machine froze. After fiddling with it for a few minutes, I walked those hazardous 25ft to the service desk to ask for assistance. I waited while the person delt with a customer. I heard someone call my name. MY customers were frantically gestering to me. So I walked back. It seems that they had overestimated their credit account. BUT, their boyfriends showed up and gave them 5 bucks, so they gave THAT to me and then paid the rest with credit. They left, I closed up. I shut my register off at 8:20 pm. I glanced outside and saw my parental waiting on me. I angrily stalked all the way to the back, and clocked out. Then I stalked back and got in the car, at 8:30pm. I was furious. I had suppressed ALL emotions while actually working, but as soon as I stepped away from that register my dam broke and I was awash in them. Gah! Suppression of self (my technique for dealing with any situation involving strangers) just applified my anger by suppressing it. By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was mutilate and slaughter helpless animals on my favorite video game (supposidly, the point of the game is to save the world, but I just like shooting the life like animals). Of course, when I got to the PS2...the game was not there. I had left it in my OLD PS2 that I had taken with me on my vacation. The PS2 is in a box, right next to me at this very moment. The game is inside it. I COULD plug it in and obtain the game...but by now I have mostly excorized my emotions by reliving them by adding to this Longest Text Ever. I KNOW it was a petty thing to get angry about...but I didn't want to job to begin with. (And poor, poor Bag...) I never WANTED a job where you might not get off on time...like my friends always complained about McDonalds. Like them, if there are still customers...I can't leave! To make matters worse, it doesn't even feel as if I am working for money, since all I earn goes in a bank account for my future use. I am present oriented! I don't care about some hypothetical future! It's as if I am working for the sole purpose of making my dad happy. Eh...well...enough whining from me... Seeya. Hiya! And I have a GREAT conspiracy/paranoid rant! Don't you just feel all warm and gooey inside, like melted cheese? Suprisingly enough, this is the topic of today's rant: cheese. Mmmmmmmm...cheese. Mild Cheddar, Mozzerella, Feta, Montery Jack, Colby...Mmmmm...or what about that Queso Blanco they use in Mexican resteraunts? Mmmmm... I love cheese, and chances are: You love it, too. There are even commercials, just for cheese. Not even a particular BRAND of cheese, just the entire CONCEPT of cheese. "Ahhhh, the power of cheese!" And I couldn't agree more. But...it HAS come to my attention somehow or another that this is and EVIL arrangement. Think about it for one moment. Have you EVER seen a commercial urging you to buy, for instance, burgers? Just burgers. In general. No mention of McDonald's or Wendy's, or those frozen Bubba Burgers. Just...ya' know, the CONCEPT of burgers? How about pain medication? Bannanas? Milk? Ah! There we go. Milk. Just about EVERYONE has seen those GOT MILK? commercials. Every school in my county has a cafeteria chock FULL of posters of celebraties with milk mustaches, with the logo: GOT MILK? Hmmmmm...sooooooooo...just WHAT do CHEESE and MILK have in common? Let's see...BOTH are owned by the United Dairy Farmers of America. Hmmm...and it seems that OTHER countries have similar such organizations. In fact, there is even a CHICKEN Farmers organization (although apparantly it is not United). But other food stuffs organizations just don't seem to be as active as these mysterious dairy farmers. Hmmmm... Why bother to advertise a product, without bothering to promote a single company or brand name? Wouldn't you think that the companies could handle the advertising themselves? I know Kraft does: *sing*K-R-A-F-T. And lots of companies harp on the ammount of calcium in cheese. Sooo..why do the FARMERS advertise milk and cheese? Is it all a vast conspiracy? After all, this mysterious, spooky organization owns ALL THE CHEESE. Shocking, isn't it? So, this complete monopoly of the cheese world controls virtually all prices for all cheese/dairy items, including: Cheese Pizza, Ice Cream, Milk, Cheese, CheeseBurgers, Tacos, Cheesy Bread, Cheese Doritos, Nacho Cheese, Butter, Etc. (Etc. is not actually a dairy product, consisitng mostly of an ecletic mix of random items, but I figured that it would work to show the continuing theme of dairy type items. ) Why does the government allow such a monopoly to exist? Are they FUNDED by the government? Let's see *does a google search* Ooooo! Pay Dirt! I'm not the only one to see the evils of Got Milk! THIS SITE<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);"> has an arcticle about the anger of small dairy farmers for the monopoly of the "Got Milk?" people. Jeff Manning, Executive Director of the California Milk Processor Board is apparantly in charge of this. What a strange title. Hmmmm...*scans the article* Oooo! They notice the non-brand-specific advertising! And it says how they are funded: "So-called “generic” advertising programs such as “Got Milk?” and “Ahh, the power of cheese” are funded, in part, through the congressionally authorized dairy checkoff, which places a mandatory assessment of 15 cents per hundredweight (roughly two cents per gallon) on all milk domestically produced and marketed commercially. Last year, the dairy checkoff raked in more than $250 million in hard-earned dairy producer money. " Soooo in essence, they ARE funded by the government (or at least in the sense that the government STEALS the small dairy farmer's money to pay for the ads). And they were sued by a small farmer who said: "We’re against having to fork over a huge portion of our bottom line for advertising that says all milk is equal." So they don't WANT to pay for the ads, but the government (and that California Dairy thingy) say they have to. Ha! That's hilarious! These stupid Dairy Conglomorate people are actually PAYING a town to rename itself "Got Milk" with those small dairy farmer's money! That's so pointless! It's like they are having these HUGE brain-storming sessions to see how they can best squander those small dairy people's money! "Hmmmm...Bob, why don't we buy all those "Largest Block of Cheese" roadside attractions and make a monument with them, entitled 'Ahhh, the power of cheese!'?" "Brilliant, Ted! But, I'd like to go one step further! Let's make an entire CITY out of cheese!" "Bob, that's it! Wait...wait! I think I GOT IT! Let's BUY a CITY the idiot yokels to CHANGE THEIR NAME TO GOT MILK! That way, we can still have those cheese ideas to fall back on afterwards!" *shakes head* It's so pathetic. *does happy dance* See, here I was ranting and raving about this, and it turns out that there already ARE people outraged! It's like that rant about the smoke detectors, and later I saw a movie about spy cameras in them. Or that Grape Pie Rant that ended up with me doing a google search months later (When I was bored) and discovering a pic of it...mmmm....grape pie. It's incredible how many strange things I can get outraged about, only to discover that they aren't strange at all! Well...seeya! Wootage! I'm back! And I have a new rant about the evils of parental brain-washing during childhood. Consider it a combo of the "Tag" rant and the "Mary Had a Little Lamb" rant. *shudders* How could I have missed such obvious implecations!? Gah! I shall focus! Alright...the subject of today's whatchamacallit is: Duck, Duck, Goose! It is EVIL! Now, I KNOW that most of what small children learn is actually not-so-cleveraly disguised brain-washing attempts, but this is just plain wrong! For those of you not familiar with the game, let me summarize. One child is "it" (JUST like in Tag). This child, labels each of the children, usually as "duck". The other children are sitting in a circle, and the "it" child walks around tapping their heads, going: "Duck, Duck, Duck"... Simple enough, right? Ah, but THEN the "it" child picks somebody ELSE to be "it", and tap the unfortunate victim on the head, crying "Goose!". Then the "goose" must pursue the "it" one and attempt to tag them. If they do not tag the "it" child, the "goose" becomes "it". If they succede in tagging them, the "it" child goes in the "mush pot" and the "goose" becomes "it" anyway. Alright. Now you know what the game IS...let's move onto what it MEANS. First of all, the game is CLEARLY a mock witch hunt. The children alienate and ostracize the one who is different, the one who is a "goose" when everyone else are "ducks". The "it" child is the current pariah, and obviously wants to exchange situations with a more fortunate child. So, the "it" child desperatly accuses another of being a "goose" (just as condemned witches accused others of witchcraft in order to alleviate their sentence). The child, symbolically shocked and appaled by such wild accusations, denies it, and even goes so far as to pursue the accusing pariah. If the accusation is deemed false (i.e. the "goose" tags the "it") then the accusing "it" child is sent to exile (the mush pot). HOWEVER, the taint of suspicion is already upon the former "goose" and despite protestations to the contrary, the child is the new "it" pariah. And the game continues. This game is DESIGNED to teach children how to shun those who are different, and to ostracize them from society if neccessary! How can this POSSIBLY be one of those little life's lessons that children must learn to become Responsible Adults? *shakes head in disgust* Well, anyway, that's it for today! Seeya! I'm back! *giggles wildly* Woot! I have something EXTRA SPECIAL for you loyal readers *cricket chirps yet again...what is UP with that?*! "Meg"<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">, the inspiration to that Pointless Signs of America Rant, has "agreed" to do a rant for us! It's GREAT! *giggles* Well, here it is:  ''"Meg" here. Jenny has kindly asked aka threatened me to do a guest rant, and I am only too happy to oblige. So here I am ready to inform you of silly things! Let's start! Go! Go! It has come to my attention that Barbie has finally found a new love. That's right. Bye-bye to boring Ken! Here comes Australian surfer Blaine! At this point, a few of you will be screaming: "No! Ken and Barbie forevaaaaa!" An insane percentage of you will be going: "Oh, that is so cute, Barbie and Blaine! That's great cause, like, both of their names start with B! Heehee!" But most of you will be wondering if that leftover pizza a week ago that is still in the fridge is eatable. Trust me on this, it's not. So why am I bringing this up? How many of you remember playing with Barbies? (The guys reading this.pretend it's G.I. Joe and his buddies.) Remember when you ripped off Barbie's head and it gave that satisfying pop? And how there was always one Ken doll and a whole bunch of Barbies? And Ken had to choose from his little harem which one he wanted? It was actually training to make you used to Reality TV! The Bachelor is eerily similar to the game you played as a child. Ken has to choose between Vet Barbie, Cowgirl Barbie, Teacher Barbie, and Dolphin Trainer Barbie! There's also a million dollars thrown into the mix! (Guys: G.I. Joe has to decide which of his buddies to vote off the island or something.) Ken was always a favored one! But now with him gone, (Barbie was quoted saying something like, "So long, ya pansy!) how will young girls (and boys) tolerate Reality TV when they are older? Mattel and TV producers are realizing their mistakes, so they decided to hold a vote for the "new man" of Barbie. This vote again was a little Reality TV thing in progress. The Bachelorette this time. Who will Barbie choose? The trendy new guy she chose which, over 2 million people decided, was Blaine. Now, girls (and boys) will be racing to get him and the many clothes and surfboard accessories he will undoubtedly have. Marketing goes up, and a new generation of potential Reality TV watchers is created. The endless cycle continues. I hope you enjoyed my rant! And remember! May Blaine always help the masses decide: American Idol Barbie or Survivor Barbie. ''<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Wasn't that GREAT!? *giggles* I luvs it! Ahhhh...the joys of paranoid conspiracy ranting without any of the effort! Go,  "Meg"<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">! Well...er...seeya! Well, I’m back! *waits for applause* … … … … ANYWAY, today I am here with a very special treat for you loyal *insert random insect noise here* readers! Don’t you feel extra squishy? I’m here to “advertise” a  <u style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">wonderful <span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">product found ONLY (to my knowledge) at K-Mart (where I am a Cashier Slave of questionable Loyalty). Okay, here goes the commercial I have prepared:  ''How would YOU like your four-year-old sibling/cousin/offspring/neighbor/pest to have ALL the fun and excitement of BIKING with none of those annoying little distractions, like being able to STOP at will? Well, you are in luck, Hapless Victim, because have WE the bike for YOU! Introducing the Tyke Byke (not actual product name) now with 100% less brakes! ''<span style="color:rgb(50,205,50);">Wasn’t that fun AND entertaining? Seriously, though, I was bored and waiting for my shift to start (we can’t clock in early) and I happened to wonder into the bike section. And I found a box with a picture of a happy little girl on it, wearing her helmet. The box listed features of the bike, and (off to the side, in one of those happy little many-pointed stars where they usually write stuff like FREE!) was the words No Brakes! Like this was a GOOD thing! What the …? I thought brakes HELPED YOU! And to think, after all these years I have been wrong!? But seriously, can you IMAGINE the Marketing committee that designed this thing? I figure it was made of, say, Hitler, a cannibal, Satan and Mary Poppins (anyone else creeped out by her?) Here was their justifying equation (which I obtained through highly classified means, namely, a squirrel, a pack of walnuts and a mini-camera) Toddler + Tyke Byke + highway = hours of fun! I figure they WANTED small children to go careening into random objects. Why else would they give ‘em no brakes? Anyway, I better go, I have this GREAT idea for a gun without a safety, and a very sensitive trigger. ..Wow..I"m back......it's been an entire year...and here I am again...pointlessly ranting and raving. Today's topic is Quaker Oats! You know Quaker Oats, right? Do a google search and find a picture, I dare you. Chances are you'll find a creepy looking older white guy dressed all old fasioned...if that's not bad enough: read on. It turns out that Quaker Oats OWNS the Aunt Jemima syrup company. Aunt Jemima is symbolized by a middle aged african american woman. Now, let's think....hrrm...the time frame that the Quaker Oats guy is from...plus owning a middle aged african american woman...wait a minute! Are they implying that she's a slave!? What kind of public image are they trying to portray here!? The NERVE of that company! *shakes head* They really need to have a better publicist.... Ah well, there's your LTE rant of the day/week/month/year/insert time frame ehre. Enjoy ^^ Heh, well, I’m once again back. This time from a long hiatus involving College life, kiwi’s and cannibalism ^_^ But let’s ignore that for now, shall we? Today we have MUCH more important things to discuss ^_^ Like a certain warranty on a certain pair of a certain headphones at a certain store that a certain someone works at a certain summer after returning from a certain college. Like most warranties, it guarantees the safety of the product for a limited time, and promises you fame, fortune, and your money back if it breaks during that time. That, however, is where this warranties similarities to the norm cease. Are you ready? *waits* How ‘bout now? *wait wait* STILL not ready? Bah, forget you, I’ll go on anyway. *clears throat* I shall now paraphrase the warranty to you, in all it’s arcane glory and splendor. This warranty shall not be in effect in the cases in which :