Wednesday, July 19, 2006

everything is broken

There is no escape for the natural cost of living life: death. The ultimate gift is poetically paid back with the ultimate sacrifice. Such is the cycle of life in the world we live in. Everything that is will one day cease to be. And so it goes.

I have gotten into trouble discussing death on this blog, and I would like to try and address this now. I have attempted in the past to make my view on death a blanket statement, and that is impossible. The other day, my 82-year-old Great Uncle Bob passed away. Just today I was talking to my friend Chelsea who recently lost a friend of hers, one who I would assume is a lot younger than Uncle Bob. These issues are only similar in their final outcome. This blog will be an unbiased view of how I viewed today's events. In no way am I attempting to belittle religion, death, or the importance of ones life over another.

Saying, "you're sorry," is so incredibly unfulfilling for both parties. As someone who just lost a person, there is nothing that the other should be sorry for, unless they are holding a bloody, blunt instrument. Even at that point, I certainly wouldn't accept their apology. If you're the person who was just informed of the death, it is the only thing you can say that sounds halfway correct coming out of your mouth. There is nothing you can say that could do anything, good, bad, or otherwise. There is no applicable way to deal with this situation; only awkward politeness.

My Uncle Bob was the rural refuge to my mom and her siblings. They were born and raised in New York City (Brooklyn to Queens) and relished their trips out to "the country" in central New York. Here they saw things they couldn't see in the concrete jungle, such as cows, horses, and, hell, grass. I heard stories from my mom whenever Uncle Bob came up for some family function, be it a birthday, Thanksgiving, or whatever else was going on that day. She would sing on the stoop, she would look out the window with Aunt Fran and see the mountains, she would get 7 Up floats (they're disgusting in case you were wondering) and just relax. Uncle Bob was also an accomplished chef for the Navy after enlisting as a Marine, and later feeding the faces above the white collars of IBM workers. The biggest fault my mom had for him was when he made the turkey and threw out the tasty--but unhealthy--skin. My mom was up in arms, and my uncle apologized for "wanting her to live longer." It's funny how we don't realize how morbid we are until death becomes a reality.

I was never as close with Uncle Bob as my mom was. He even walked her down the aisle after my grandfather died; Uncle Bob is not even blood relation. I would see him when he was a pit stop for my cousin Suzanne before she spent some time in rustic Park Ridge, NJ. Distinctly I remember driving up with my dad, seeing my Uncle, playing ping-pong in his dark basement, and, for whatever reason, watching the stage production of Cats on his TV. Driving up today it was strange how I knew exactly where he lived and which house was his after not seeing it for at least five years. It was second nature. I guess the trips meant more than I realized.

The other oddity was meeting with the relatives. Once again, I had a fuzzy memory of almost everyone, save my cousin Ricky who is 3 months older than me and is in the Marines, looking like he's 26. There were so many "...Michael?!" introductions I lost count (yes, I was going to count for this very reason). It probably helps that for my show in two weeks I have a ridiculously overgrown beard so I look exactly like my dad, but still. The queer part was that I definitely knew all of Uncle Bob's sons, at least their faces. I had not seen them in probably 10 years. I forgot the exact date, but I'm gauging by how high they held their hands to their sides to indicate how tall I was the last time I saw them.

The reactions at the funeral home ran the gamut. My mom, for all of her best qualities, is not the most emotionally stable person I know. Situations like these are not her forte. I am not blaming her by any means, but she is definitely the opposite of how I react. She walked in and saw the house and started to tear, walked to the kitchen and looked at "Aunt Fran's mountains," and welled up, and god knows what finally put her over the edge into crying town. She is a very emotional person to the point where if I try and console her she'll just get worse.

Countering her, my cousin Sue had a very similar situation to my mother. Sue would spend time during her summer at Uncle Bobs riding horses, if memory serves, at a local ranch. No matter the action, she was up there and was quite close with him. At the funeral parlor (always odd that "hair" and "funeral" both get the closing word of "parlor") she was pulled out on her own fiddling with some paper. I walked over, confused, to see if she needed a hug or whatever shallow comfort I could offer. She looks in my direction, face never losing focus from the paper below her, and asks for some time alone. I look down as I fold my arms and realize she has "Dear Uncle Bob," as the heading. It's at that point I realized that nothing I will probably ever write will mean as much as whatever went on to that sheet of paper.

I never know what to do at funerals. Believe me, I'm not bragging when I say I've attended around 20 wakes/funerals in my life time, but I have a lot of experience under my belt. I never show any real emotion. It might be because no one that close to me has ever passed away, such as a grand parent, first-uncle (don't get me started on my extended family tree and 80 uncles and aunts with only 8 being legit). In a counter to my mom's overly emotional stance, I am very logical. Death is the natural outcome of life. It will always come, so why be so upset when it happens, especially to someone who is 82? What more could you want? He was given no longer than a year to live and passed away in a week. In some perverse way, isn't that good?

Back from the aside. I do not believe I have ever cried at a wake or a funeral. I simply cannot do it. When my classmate Joe Smeen died a few weeks before graduation at age 19 (he graduated the previous year) I was stone faced the entire proceeding. Seeing my friends fall to shambles did nothing to affect my outer figure. Watching his mother break apart in front of my eyes from a few feet away couldn't crack my exterior. I finally broke on the two minute drive from the church to my house. That short trip held all the tears I would spill for my departed friend and classmate. I got home, put on my work clothes, and helped out at the town picnic for about eight hours straight. Ever since I was a child, I was so self-conscious about not crying, and how horrible a person others must precieve me to be. All I want to do to this day is just shed one tear.

Seeing the body is always off putting because you really aren't seeing the body at all - you are seeing the corpse, in its most concrete form. There is nothing left of the person you loved, admired, lived with, etc. Instead, there is an empty shell that closely resembles the person you knew. In many ways you are paying homage to a person's character and their life to what is nothing more than the vacant embodiment of those ideals. Having the body "look good" also scares me. I understand that it is a reassuring measure, but isn't that what people in funeral homes are for? Hasn't anyone seen Rico work on Six Feet Under? I would hope he doesn't look horrible - it's someone's job to ensure that doesn't happen. The creepiest of all creepy things is when my Dad's side will kiss the corpse in the coffin. It is the most disturbing thing I have ever laid eyes on.

We had a small service at the Lutheran church that my uncle was a charter member of. During the mass, something really popped out during the Our Father. I was a...lackluster Roman Catholic, but I attended church often and knew the Our Father like the back of my hand. Printed on the pamphlet passed out was the prayer I have known since I was 4, except there was a weird add-on. Apparently, Jesus went to hell and faught demons before coming back to Earth. When did Jesus become a bad ass? Was this the 41st Thesis, that Jesus is too much of a pussy and needed a death count to make him more marketable? The sandal-wearing, miracle-working, peace-and-love Jesus is out and the "I kill demons and I'm the savior motha fucka" Jesus is in!

When I die (well, according to my mom I'm one of God's special angels and I'll never die, but I have the under at 40), I really hope I don't do it in the dead (see?) of Winter or the zenith of Summer. It was bad enough that we lost a member of our family. Did we really need it to be 100 degrees, too? All the men are in black suits at noon. I went the extra stupid step and wore a dark blue dress shirt to top off my near heat stroke. It was sort of sad that while doing the color guard's gun salute I was too busy counting the number of beads of sweat trickling down my back. I refuse to die until there is a portable air conditioner in cemeteries for situations like these.

The most poignant part of the day came when the American flag was folded into a triangle and passed on to my cousin Ricky, dressed in full Marine garb. There was something so incredibly powerful about the hand off of the flag; the low ramble of the one Marine to my cousin, the passing of the flag, the slow salute, and the rigid twenty year old who had gone through all sorts of horrific training to wear that uniform now weeping in it. The epitome of strength was giving way.

It's rare when a symbol actually embodies what it signifies. I will not extol my uncle as someone who has lived the American dream. He lived a life that deserves just as much respect as the flag receives. He was a simple, loving, caring family man, someone whose worst offense was tossing out some animal skin. There are many goals I have in my life, from having children to making a movie, and getting this thing into book form. After a day like today you realize how trivial they really are. If no one knows me by my writing prowess, or as a top 10 director, or one of the biggest money makers in Hollywood, that doesn't mean I'm a failure. All I have to do is shoot for my Uncle Bob's model. No life can be created without finally paying due for the opportunity you were given on this Earth. He gave more than his fair share back to everyone he touched on the moral coil. I hope there is a heaven if only for him, because he earned his salvation.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Any Ideas?

There are some upsides and downsides to having your blog start to catch on. The first downside is that most of your readers came because you were assaulted on AIM, and you have to somehow woo them enough to keep them coming back. Pressure is fun, especially when you're talking about your fucking blog. I have no life. Another downside is that people start to expect new posts from you all the time. I talked to that big-cocked wonder Sujoy before about updating his blog (he hasn't in almost three months) and he said, "man, I don't know how you do it." I do it because I have people like Luke telling me it's been a week, and that's too long.

Luckily, the upside is that I have enough eccentric thoughts to carry this thing on at a semi-regular basis. As a special bonus, I'm giving you two updates tonight, hopefully buying me enough time in between these updates and the next one. Huzzah!

Why are people ashamed of sleep? No one is ever happily saying that they slept through things; everyone's always sorry. If I sleep through someone's call I'm always mortified. How selfish am I, giving my body the rest it dearly needs while my pal is calling up asking me if I have an idea on something to do? I might be in the majority, but I think sleep is the cat's pajamas. Never again will I apologize for sleeping through something. Instead, I will say something akin to, "well it's not my fault you tried to contact me while I was trying to rejuvenate my yearning body of the natural rest that it needs to properly function as the well-run machine that it truly is." Or something less wordy. Like, "hey, eat me." Probably that.

As you may know, I am very critical of what goes up in AOL Instant Messenger aways and profiles. I have seen a slew of such informational placards display a quote from the movie Blow, which states: Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust, and when you're up, it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down, you never think you'll be up again, but life goes on. The subtle irony of this quote is that Jung ends up locked in jail forever, and never sees his family, the one thing he longs to do. He doesn't go back up. Quite the opposite, in fact. His life is pitiful. I want this quote stricken from all always and profiles unless you think it's a bonus to end up in jail for life. If that is your goal, more power to you.

The choreographer for the upcoming Kiss Me Kate at Park Ridge High School (July 27-29th 8 PM cheap plug?) has a two-year-old named Christopher who is incredibly germophobic. He constantly needs to wash his hands or use Purell. I don't have the heart to tell him that while he's trying to get the germs off of his hands he still uses a diaper. How can a germophobe shit them selves? Is that the greatest irony of all time? Or, me not knowing the greatest irony is, in fact, the greatest irony of all time? Or, is that that I think I don't know what the greatest irony of all time is while therefore

Everything in life is a middle school dance. No matter how old you are, what function you are attending, or what standing you have in society, there will always be a time where guys and girls will split up into different sections no more than four feet apart from each other and not recognize the existence of the other group. There has to be some sort of evolutionary explanation for this, because it simply doesn't stop. I have seen it at concerts (maybe avoiding sexual assault?), waiting around during rehearsals, on line for the T, and in classrooms. I had a discussion last year that had about 20 girls and 7 guys, and you can bet your sweet fanny that all of the guys clumped together as the girls surrounded us, like the succubuses they are. This just goes to show that men and women will never get along, unless alcohol and loneliness are involved...but that has a finite grace period (the morning, or directly afterwards).

Why is licking blood so weird? If I have a cut, the first thing I do is put my mouth over it and keep that sweet nector of life in my system, not losing a drop to the outer world. Someone had a cut during my last show and couldn't really take care of it before making another entrance. I said to simply suck the wound--what other option was there? She looked at me like i had three heads, or some body configuration that is equally as irregular. Seeing how I needed to back up my blood-sucking position, I began to say, "if it comes from your body, it's ok to put back in there." Then I thought about piss and was ready to be called a freak. Luckily, she didn't throw that back in my face, so no one ever knew that I pretty much said I'd be ok to drink piss.

Totally got away with it!

Have you ever been an incredible asshole without knowing it before hand? For example, have you ever made a cancer joke around someone who lost a close relative to cancer...but you were never informed of said tragedy? You don't get off the hook. No, you are forever in guilt because you were an insufferable douche without any proper warning. I have decided to coin this phenomenon the "unknown asshole." You have no idea what a prick you're being until it is far too late. You cannot stop it, you can never avoid it, and you're always susceptible to being a real dick.

Sometimes speaking is incredibly dangerous. Whether it be the passing of my Uncle recently, or my infatuation with Muse's album Absolution and the song "Time Is Running Out," I've become cognizant of how many little actions you do influence others. Obviously we all know that if you punch someone in the face there will be some ramifications. What we don't pay attention to, however, is how telling the little things are. The snide remark you make that is interpreted as pushing someone away, a ride home to someone who has a crush on you, even the slight brushing of someone's leg against yours.

There is precious little time in this life to toy around. It's said all of the time, and it's hard to believe when you sit around your house and play Winning Eleven 9 on PS2 and contemplate how lonely and bored you are, but your life is not going to last forever. People often ask, "what is life?" It's fleeting. Some things do live on, far past your death. Your reputation, your character, your name. There are people in my life that I didn't realize I missed until I started talking to them after a period of silence. Some people I need to distance myself from before they take me down with them. Others I simply will never be able to excise from my life, which is really good and bad.

Always be on your toes, because the window of time to explain things closes with each passing day. You only have one life to live--or if you believe in reincarnation, a shit load of them--so don't dilly-dally, sirs and ma'ams.

Friday, July 07, 2006

From Left Field

I'm going to Boston for the weekend, and I felt obliged to leave something for you all to enjoy whilst I'm gone. Really it's because I like the attention garnered from last week's post, so I'm trying to keep things going. Think of me as Timbaland to your Aaliyah, as I couldn't leave you "without a dope beat to step to (step to)." Or something like that.

Why do girls love lanyard so much? I don't understand what the draw is. You can tie up different colored plastic strips. ...That's it. There isn't even a reason for it. You can't play with the strand afterwards. You can't do anything. The best thing is to look at it, attach it to someone's hair until their parents take it out for being "insensible," or you toss it. Ta da. Is it the next generation's knitting? In 80 years, will kids be shoving lanyard sweaters deep into their closets until they have to wear them on Thanksgiving to give the old coot something to live for? The strangest part is how attached girls are to this silly hobby. They don't stop loving it, either; they just don't know where to find any plastic strands. Spools of purple and red plastic tie line will soon replace flowers and candy. Bank on it.

An old friend of mine imed me the other day and did a smiley like this: (: Isn't that illegal? That's against internet code. You simply cannot turn your head to the left and read smilies. It has been passed, many years ago, that you cock your head to the right and see smiley faces, sad faces, and the like. I want to call shenanigans, but then I realized how embarrassing it would be for me to tell her that she is incorrectly using smiley emoticons. So I decided to tell about a hundred people instead. I'm a genius.

Who came up with "lol?" Someone had to have been the pioneer to create that horrible acronym. It just didn't come from out of space. Man has made many things: the ability of flight, the Polio vaccine, and now a short way to say that you are, in fact, laughing in an outwardly fashion. I feel bad because they didn't copyright it immediately. Someone also had to feel that simply saying "lol" did not fully cover their reaction to a joke or funny comment. No, they had to take it to the next step. "lol" was soon one-upped by "rofl," which completely rejects making out loud laughter the selling point--it's not even mentioned, just inferred--to show that you are actually ROLLING ON FLOOR laughing (I would assume uproariously). Whoever crated roflmao (rolling on floor, laughing my ass off) is just taking it too far though. That person is an asshole.

One sound I will never get used to is a bird hitting my window. I live in a one-story house. There are trees all around me. Nothing inside my window looks like it should be outdoors. But still, every now and then I hear that weird "thump," and the bang of a beak or talon against the windowpane. I jump, yell, and say, "god dammit, I'll never get used to that ever!" Such is my life.

I really like bad jokes. In fact, I love them more than good jokes (which lends itself to the bad joke of "well obviously, cause you never tell good jokes!" which I reply with "oh you're a hoot!") but some things need to stop. If I hear someone pick up a screw, turn to me, and ask "wanna screw?" I might take off your face with a belt sander. Do you think you're original? Do you think you're the only one who has thought of the double entendre of asking someone if they want a craftsman's tool and how it also runs congruent with asking someone if they would like to engage in sexual intercourse? You aren't. More than that, who ever walks around looking for someone with a screw? "Oh, thank you so much for offering! I have been looking around for DAYS, avoiding every Home Depot and hardware store, just to see if someone randomly had one!" Don't even get me started on "getting lei'd." I really wish that you could pass AIDS through itchy purple pieces of cut up plastic bags that are held together by one staple. The world would be a better place.

In conclusion, I don't understand Jesus dying for my sins. Did someone really need to? Is there a certain limit of sinning that simply cannot be exceeded? I thought Catholics were more civilized, but I guess we do believe in sacrifices. Why couldn't we have used a goat, and nothing something as important as, I don't know, THE SON OF GOD? They don't pop out all the time - kind of a finite number of Holy Saviors. And if he died for my sins, shouldn't I get the auto bid into heaven? My sins are all accounted for, aren't they? What is even stranger is that they were taken care of 2000 years ago. Will someone else have to go after a certain number of years when it fills back up again, or are we good till Judgment Day? These are the kind of post-its I need plastered on my walls - not of blog ideas. Someone call up the Pope, tell him to stop goose-stepping and remembering "the good ole' days" and ask him this. It's kinda important.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Lobbing Softballs

When kids wanted to be mischievous between Bell creating the phone and about 10 years ago, the prank call was the way to do it. A young lad could call up one of his rivals and alert him to catch his running refrigerator or to please release Prince Albert from his royal can. With new technology breeds new ways to annoy people. The advent of the internet has given a whole new, completely anonymous, way to mess with your common man. It's as easy as creating a fake screen name and iming your target with a barrage of funny comments. I fell victim to such a prankster tonight, and it was a terrible experience

It wasn't because the person mentioned my ex-girlfriend, or because of the acts in which they described, or even who they brought up. No, it was terrible because they were unfunny and made me waste a good thirty minutes dealing with someone who had nothing but hack material. I will share this conversation with you dear readers, of course, with running commentary on the situation.

I'm not upset because of the attempt to "get me," but merely because they were so bad at it. It is a slap in the face. At least bring your B game, you rapscallions.

NawTeLiLGurL69: sup nig
KingManton: hi?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haha sorry for the language!
NawTeLiL GurL 69: whats uppp??
KingManton: well, my lack of melanin makes the "nig" comment seem...out of place
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i know what you mean, nig
KingManton: wooooord
KingManton: watching cinderella man on HBO because I'm too lazy to turn the channel, you?
- Like any conversation with someone I don't know, I just keep going like I know who they are. Believe me, it works. Just ahead is where it turns "ugly."
NawTeLiL GurL 69: masturbating thinking of you
NawTeLiL GurL 69: well not exactly
KingManton: oh shucks
NawTeLiL GurL 69: im watching a porno for fun and the guy reminded me of you
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haha
KingManton: that's...well
KingManton: uh
KingManton: how, exactly
KingManton: the haircut was similar?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: that
NawTeLiL GurL 69: lanky
NawTeLiL GurL 69: tall body
NawTeLiL GurL 69: thats basically
KingManton: so...someone who shouldn't be in a porn
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haha, it was pretty gross
NawTeLiL GurL 69: but youre not at all!!
- What, did they think that they were going to sucker me in to some cyber sex with someone I don't know? And it really does sound so appealing. Like Perry Mason, I decide at this point that they know who I am by the stunningly accurate account of my body type. Immediately I pull back the curtains to peer out my windows. Nothing. Foiled again by this merry band of tricksters!
KingManton: thanks for the compliment
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i would ride your dick any day of the week
KingManton: aw, that's sweet
NawTeLiL GurL 69: except mondays cause i have to ride hailey that day
- Oh man, here comes the ex-girlfriend! Now it'll REALLY set me off!
KingManton: of course
NawTeLiL GurL 69: what, you dont believe me??
KingManton: I do
- Backfire.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: okay good good
- Panic.
KingManton: I don't need to see the schedule or anything
KingManton: and who's hailey?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: am i spelling it wrong?
KingManton: yeah
KingManton: haley
KingManton: go back and erase it in the schedule
KingManton: just for accuracty, ya know
NawTeLiL GurL 69: hahahaha
- Did you know that you can actually SEE nervous laughter? I know you can hear it, but I didn't know it translated so well to AIM conversations as well. The wheels are falling off and we're only about 20 ims in to the conversation.
KingManton: and I miss spell accuracy
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haha ironic
KingManton: indeed
NawTeLiL GurL 69: dont ya think???
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haha
KingManton: 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife
- Getting too comfortable...need to attack!
NawTeLiL GurL 69: it reminds me of the time that haley was muffdiving me
KingManton: which time was that
NawTeLiL GurL 69: when i forgot to shave and it looked like she had a moustache
- AHA! Got him this time!
KingManton: that's adorable
KingManton: did ya get a picture?
- God dammit.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: yeah i did
NawTeLiL GurL 69: its online
KingManton: awesome
NawTeLiL GurL 69: want me to send you the link??
KingManton: eh, I have enough
- zing! I crack myself up.
NawTeLiL GurL 69:
NawTeLiL GurL 69: look familiar?
KingManton: and how do you have that on file so quickly
- Honestly. That link popped up five seconds after "send the link?" I never clicked it, but by the url of "sillyjokes" I'm sure it's a right.
KingManton: that's my question
NawTeLiL GurL 69: cause i hear you gotta hairy pussy to
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i look at it all the time
- Nice answer, schmuck boy
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haley turns me on
- Have to stay on topic! Keep pushing the ex angle!
KingManton: hell no, I keep my non-existant pussy groomed at all times
KingManton: she's a pretty girl
NawTeLiL GurL 69: thats true
KingManton: go for it - she's not attached to me. Have fun
NawTeLiL GurL 69: why would she be attached to a lose rlike you, when she could have a pussy like mine all night??
- Thanks you illiterate fuck. Putting this into Word might make my computer explode from all of the squiggly little red lines it has to generate.
KingManton: are you ever wrong?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: yeah sure
NawTeLiL GurL 69: soemtimes
- Like a retard told to do work outside with a pinwheel spinning in the background. Impossible to stay focused on the goal.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: but goddammit...
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haley is soooo right
- Here's the set up....
KingManton: how so
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i fuck her
NawTeLiL GurL 69: its fun
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i like it
NawTeLiL GurL 69: her pussy is very delicious
- And there's the...payoff? Guy walks into a bar...AND HE DOES! SERIOUSLY, FOLKS! Ugh.
KingManton: what's not to like
NawTeLiL GurL 69: the fact that she was with a loser like you kinda scares me
KingManton: I'm shocked you can sleep at night
- Heads up - if you just go with it and say shit like my comment, it will drive'em nuts. All that is wanted is a "go fuck yourself asshole" and then he/she/they would just start laughing. Sorry. Stay tuned, it gets worse as time goes on.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: but you did scare her into being a lesbo
NawTeLiL GurL 69: so i gotta hand it to you
KingManton: why thank you. I have quite the talent
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i have quite the talent at sucking cocks
NawTeLiL GurL 69: but i like pussies more
KingManton: you can do it all
- ?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: for you... i would do anything
- Notice the use of italics to emphasize the variety of activities that the person would engage in with me.
KingManton: oh man, let me calm down
NawTeLiL GurL 69: no
NawTeLiL GurL 69: ill let you cum down all over my chest
- Nice segue. I'm shocked you passed on the juicer "let" and went right for the more difficult "down." You get points for difficulty, even though you stuck the landing much like the Hindenburg.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: this is lindsey duck by the way
NawTeLiL GurL 69: quack quack
NawTeLiL GurL 69: i have flippers
NawTeLiL GurL 69: and a pussy
NawTeLiL GurL 69: and lips meant to be seucking pussssyyy
- Girl from my high school. If you're reading this Miss Duck, hope things are well.
KingManton: are they connected?
KingManton: the pussy and flippers?
KingManton: cause it would be an odd way to fly
- I'm so witty
NawTeLiL GurL 69: well, people tell me i am a fly girl
- They are so not
NawTeLiL GurL 69: and i tell them to go fuck themselves
NawTeLiL GurL 69: then i suck their dicks
NawTeLiL GurL 69: and haley helps
KingManton: what else would she do
- As soon as I sent this I wanted to add "applaud and bake apple pies?" Thank god for this blog.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: she would look for the biggest cock she could find...
NawTeLiL GurL 69: then suck it all night
NawTeLiL GurL 69: making up for time with you, i guess
KingManton: I guess so
KingManton: just for scheduling purposes, how long do you think this is going to keep going for?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: ohhhh shit
NawTeLiL GurL 69: days on end
- That means about 10 more minutes. Days got shorter. It's like the inverse of the "created in 6 days" argument.
KingManton: well, I'm going to have to sleep eventually
KingManton: just wanted to give you the heads up
NawTeLiL GurL 69: haley just wanted to do that too...
NawTeLiL GurL 69: give head
- Douche chill
KingManton: nice clarification
NawTeLiL GurL 69: my name is...
NawTeLiL GurL 69: claire viola
- Oh god, they're drowning. If you're reading this Claire, hope things are well, and you scratch less.
KingManton: good job with the topic change there champ
KingManton: running out of steam?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: im a champion of fucking girls
NawTeLiL GurL 69: want a picture of me and haley??
KingManton: and I thought you were Danielle Duck
KingManton: I might not be who you, in fact, say you are
KingManton: which, on the internet, is just...appalling
NawTeLiL GurL 69:
NawTeLiL GurL 69: im on the left
KingManton: fantastic
- Once again, didn't click the link, but this person sure has a nice collection of lol-able pictures !!!!1
NawTeLiL GurL 69: we JUST had sex
NawTeLiL GurL 69: right when the picture was taken
- were ya?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: and right now too!
KingManton: while typing?
KingManton: jesus are you talented
NawTeLiL GurL 69: she was sucking my pussy
- I'm starting to lose track of what's going on here
NawTeLiL GurL 69: shes good at it
NawTeLiL GurL 69: you would know if you had one
NawTeLiL GurL 69: but you have a small dick instead
KingManton: oh please, stop flattering me
NawTeLiL GurL 69: oh please
NawTeLiL GurL 69: please...
NawTeLiL GurL 69: yess....
NawTeLiL GurL 69: oh shit, im talking ot haley not you
- Do I even need to comment? Wowie.
KingManton: hmm?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: hmmm
NawTeLiL GurL 69: yeaaah
KingManton: oh, say hi
KingManton: we haven't talked in a while
NawTeLiL GurL 69: her mouth is full
KingManton: that's fine - YOU can still say hi
NawTeLiL GurL 69: no i have a guys dick in my mouth
- You can actually FEEL them running out of steam. It's sad.
NawTeLiL GurL 69: its sujoy
KingManton: so you have a guy's dick in your mouth, while typing, well having sex with haley, and taking pictures during the act, while simultaneously being sujoy, claire viola, and danielle duck?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: no its sujoys dick thats in my mouth
KingManton: oh, well, good for him, then
- I'm sure he'd be excited
NawTeLiL GurL 69: hes fucking huge!
KingManton: I'll give him a firm handshake next time I see him
NawTeLiL GurL 69: shake his hand, or dick
NawTeLiL GurL 69: he would liek the dick
KingManton: well, I'd prefer the hand, thank you. It's more polite that way
- Here is the two to three minutes of silence
KingManton: anything else?
NawTeLiL GurL 69: lots
KingManton: then by all means, continue
“NawTeLiL GurL 69” signed off at 12:51:45 AM.
- I love the smell of "signed off" in the morning. Smells like.......victory.

If you're a boy, or a group of boys, and you want to cause some mischief, that is what NOT to do. Do not get a girl's stupid looking screen name that is not even believable (I thought it was one of those porn sns making a come back) and dish terrible banter back and forth looking for a reaction. Also, put yourself out of your misery and sign off earlier, unless you are so incredibly bored that a conversation like this would be entertaining. And take out the shift buttons, cause they are seemingly meaningless ornaments to make the keyboard be rectangular for a smoother presentation.

But hey, maybe you are a fan of their snide remarks and witty barbs, and enjoy it when you start shit talking someone, dig yourself a hole, then ask the other person if they have the keys to the back hoe over there to speed the process up. This was also the second attempt, and the second mention of my pal Sujoy. I'm befuddled as to why his name keeps coming up. But I congratulate him on his huge cock.

C'mon folks. If you're going to get at me, you're going to have to do better than that.