Critical Informant

Indifference

Once Again, Now

Hold Forward at Start

Buy a House: You won't do it.

Achievement Unlocked: Asshole Driver

Tire and Rear Fender... Bump Marriage

Oh yes, I return tonight!

I made this because I don't think I've ever had two posts in one day. I'm sure this probably rocks your world. That's not my fault. If your world didn't need rockin' you shouldn't have come a schnockin'. I refuse to end that with "knocking". Or knockin' in the urban tongue. That's when you take stuff out 'cause you so hardcore, SONNN. The fact that two postifications will exist when this night is over is beyond acceptable. It is supercceptable. If I was you, I'd read the post directly below first, and this one second. Because you don't want to miss out on all the inside jokes that I make in this one. Because, shit son, if you didn't get a handle on all the asianess in the last one, you won't get this. Let me tell you a secret. I have six beers left tonight. And this post isn't going to be published until I finish them. I'll document what I'm doing whilst consuming every one. Sometimes I think my life sucks. You reading this will make me count the number of people who think that more often than I. Haha, suckah bitch. Unlike the last post, the enter button will be used quite often. See, that's a joke. You didn't get it 'cause you didn't read the last post yet. I'm six deep already, so add six to each number, and you'll get the amount of times I don't care what you're doing reading this.

Beer 1 + (secret number of addage we talked about)

Beer opened decent. Nice crack-hiss. Contemplating walnuts. Why are they so oddly shaped. God, that's crazy. Word of insight, almost packed it down the stairs descending to the fridginator for beers 1 through 3. Need to arc one into roommates urinstrator. Why would I do that? Because women are crazy about their bathrooms. I think I'll leave the seat up for good measure.

...

Alright, back. Didn't leave the seat up, lost motivation. Felt like crashing it back down. It made a satisfying loud noise in the empty house. Fat shit cat, a.k.a. "meatball" looked at me. I hate that cat. And it hates me. Shits in my room whenever possible. Hence me having to keep my door shut when I'm off the premises. Also, many pieces of tinfoil were found in the trash receptacle of said roommate. Most likely stupid slash hair related. Hair related metal pieces can be found very often around this house. Having one roommate that is a certified hair mangler and another that apparently eats leftovers in her bathroom. Things get left around. This typing is not assisting my drinking. Getting through all six of these is going to be quite a challenge. I forgot to mention before I started on these twelve I had already been drinking somewhere else. Vodka, and I think something that resembled a mojito. Drinking these fast to try to get through this typificaition might not be the best idea. But it's already 1:30AM retarded westside time. So I've gotta get some sleep before Pats v. Colts tomorrow. I'm doing my darndness. P.S. did any of you see Bourne Ultimatum? That movie was pretty sweet. At the end I thought he was dead, and would have been fine with that. But then he came back to life. God damned Matt Damon. Where does he get off. God dammit this stupid beer is taking forever to drink. If I had the orange rhino, I could've done this think in in 4 seconds. For those of you who know the orange rhino, god bless, but I think TOR is dead. Palmer lost slash destroyed it I think. I fear this may be too great a task for even me. BUT I WILL NOT FAIL YOU. I will give it my all. If I pass out saliva smeared across the keyboard and have to hit the post button sometime tomorrow morning, so be it. I'm making the fucking five star effort. My god, finally... One down.

Beer #2 (plus coldness of throat and previously mentioned consumables)

Beer opened. Kind of sprayed some into face. Shouldn't look so hard next time. Listening to crazy music to try to motivate. Gotta motivate your drinksculation factor muscles. Without them you'd be lost in your drinking quests. And by you and mean me. And all my musculations. Observation, I should apply for federal relief due to my room being a disaster area. On second thought, I don't want FEMA in my room. Unless they're the one's paying for the booze next time. OH SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THE FUNSIZE SNICKERS I HAVE. Why didn't you gorramn remind me? I TOLD YOU TO READ THE OTHER POST. If you had, we'd both be enjoying them right now. And by you I mean not you. Because you don't deserve any. You didn't read the other thing first, and now you're snickerless. You'd be snickerfull if you had. Fatshit cat is trying to get into my room. I just threw an empty beer can at it. That'll teach it. I can't believe this is only two of six in the goalification of tonight. That's a fairly lofty goal, imo. I saw someone once build a beer can chandelier. I should do that. At least then I'd be making something of my life. P.S. It's only Saturday. I have all day to sleep in tomorrow. You honkies on the east coast might get up and read this before I'm done typing it. It's almost 5AM your time. If you're on christmas break and semi-hate your life, you just may. That reminds me, one time I worked at this christmas tree farm back east. It was called the Rocks. The reason it's called that is because working for them is as much fun as having sharp rocks shoved in your underpants. I walked around with some r-tard masshole family for almost an hour so they could find the perfect tree to put in their fucking loft apartment in east Boston. And cut it down, dragged it all the way out, wrapped it up, and put it on their car. And they just left. No tip, whatsoever. And then as I'm walking back to get another "customer" and this guy is having trouble putting his tree on his car. So I go over and help him get it tied down... total time, 30 seconds. And he gives me ten bucks. I extend a large middle finger towards the other family that recently left. Because they blow. Hang on, drinking break. Typing too much. But you can see how that's like sharp rocks in your FTL's. Also, I think I lost the sweater I was wearing that day. How could it get any worse. This one went pretty fast. I think we've got at the most a quarter beerage left in this section. Make that an eighth. This is difficult, but I have faith. Ha, psych. No faith. P.P.S. There goes #2.

Beer #3 (Plus your mom's weight divided by previous consumables)

If telethons were also related as "burpathons" I would have just saved numerous kids from an unimaginable disease. But as those two relations are unlikely, let's just relate that I've cracked number three. It's looking at me funny. As if to say, "You won't go to JC Penny tomorrow and buy two matching nitestands". And I'm all like "BITCH BEER CAN YOU KNOW I AIN'T BUYING SHIT 'TILL I MOVE TO MY NEW PLACE". And it's all like "GOD I HATE YOU, YOU'RE SUCH A PUSSY." And I'm all like "I'M GONNA DRINK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU." And then I do it. Minus the shit part. Sick. Pretty hammered right now. The typing thing is still a mystery. How can it come out so perfectly? Who knows. Beer #3 is being made into my bitch. I'm not even fucking around with this one. It was talking shit about my bedroom furniture. How can I not fuck it's beer life up? Exactly. Somehow, putting on a sweatshirt is easier than closing my window. Due to my energy-sapation calculations, I will do that at this time. Also, beer #3 is reaching it's end very quickly, due to it talking and incalculable amount of shit. Sweatshirt, back in a jiffy.

...

Oh man, where were you? I put on a sweatshirt, arc-ed one, and beer #3 is no more. I put it's sorry ass to rest. Also, threw it at meatball. Meatball is the worst cat of all time. I like cats, I hate fat shit cat. All it does is be worthless. If being worthless was a paid position, this cat would be Bill Gates. Seriously. Also, if extra income was granted for shitting in my room, it'd be higher than Bill Gates. God this is going to be an adventure. I need to maneuver the staircase down to the refrigerator to get beers 4-6. You better damn well appreciate it. God dammit, I know you don't. You never appreciate anything. I don't even know why I write shit for you. My mom hates you! We're never getting married.

Beer #4 (in addition, hurt myself down stairs, plus consumables from previous convo)

God dammit, beer #4 had a fucking attitude. Wouldn't open. I had to smack it upside the head. Also, still thinking about walnuts. Their shape is quite odd. Most nuts have a fairly regular shape. Theirs is like the misshapen person you find after you date them for a few weeks. They have a cute shell, and then "what the fuck? did you have some horrible accident?". And I mean that mentally. Right now, there's some fuckhead outside my open window with his fucking harley revving. Are you serious, it's 4:15AM east coast people time. Where do you get off? Oh, apparently right now. Because his bike is probably shit. Hence him shutting it off and going into one of many asian neighbor's houses. I just sneezed no less than 8 times. Usually it's once and someone's thinking about you, more than three someone loves you, and as many as I did, plus I just sneezed five... make that six, more times... that means you have dick cancer. I should get that checked out. Also, I'm still sneezing. I think that was 13 total. Shit, still going. 15 now. Dammit make it stop. 16. It's hard to type and sneeze at the same time. 17. 19, and flipping 20. Wow, I'm not even close to joking, here comes another one... Also, apparently drinking beer makes you not sneeze. I've averted my sneez-fest 2007 with beer. Nose still kind of tickles. Sneezing may not be out of the question. I'll just drink beer until it stops. Holy shit, speedy speed boy. It's like I need to sneeze, but I can't. I think I'm allergic to stupidity. Suddenly, speedy sped boy, a.k.a. harley boy came over, and I started sneezing forever. I'm trying to put this beer to bed. Seriously, but it's hard. Probably due to too much typing, not enough drinking. I'll work more on the drinking portion. For science. Peace, son is done. Over.

Beer #5 (plus you know. you've been here. suckah.)

Also, I just found this. I don't know what it is.



God, I hate people. Don't even watch half of it. You'll want to kill people.

I'm 90% sure the next generation is fucked. Over.

After watching the end, so you don't have to. I'm 99% sure the next generation is fucked. So, don't even bother with them. Also, this beer is getting crushed.



HAHA! I found that too. So now you have to watch it. Why does it exist? The world may never know. But fucking-A! WHAT THE HELL?

Are you glad beer #5 is finally almost finished? Shit, I would be.
And it's done.


Beer #6 (Electric Boogaloo.)

Opened with a crisp sense of "my god, it's almost finally over." Still have the sniffles. Still sneezing for no reason. Why is this happening to me? Thank god I don't have to watch anymore r-tarded youtube videos. I could, but I choose not to.



PSYCHE, WATCH CRAZY TONGUE LADY.

Shit, it's after the video. Well, watch it anyways. MY GOD THAT'S TERRIFYING.

She could audition for Alien 5: Crazy Tongue Psychoness. MY GOD HOW DOES IT EVEN FIT IN THERE? Could you answer that for me please?

This is sad. It's my last beer. I'll be sleeping after this one. It'll be early morningness for the eastcoast people when I finally pack it in. I don't have very much left to go. I really didn't think it would happen. I thought I'd pass out far before I reached my goal. But I guess it proves that you can do what you want. Seek out your dreams! Even if your dream is to drink more beer than necessary and write asinine shit. Because that's what matters... probably. Righto.

BEER #6 (PLUS YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT) COMPLETED

You and I have journey'd. That's not a word, there's a better way to type that. But that's not important. You know what you must do. Lament yourself for reading this. Seriously, there's a life out there. And you need to get it. Why did you read this?

OVER!

Always spinnin' somethin' somethin' spinnin'

The amount of apostrophes in the title is excessive. This I know. I'm building a small leaning tower of Piza of beer cans. I'm pretty sure if the department of social services had jurisdiction over my liver they would have taken it away a long time ago. I'm pretty sure I've taken alcohol abuse to a new level over the past few days. Eh, shit happens. It's like a sweet crutch that is there to be awesome whenever I need it. And a shitload of different stores sell this awesome crutch. Anyways, how about a positive post for one time in this blogs life. Yeah, you say, I'm sure this'll be about as positive as spiked fisticuffs into the head of a small child slash cute animal. Hey, I didn't say it, you did. You, that's what you sound like. Related: the Patriots play the Colts tomorrow. Where will I go?... will I bet on the game?... Did Jesus really make wine for all those people?... Is he for hire?... Is he fucking with me?... Don't play Jesus?... I mean that for serious, yo?... Don't play?... This format is completely unacceptable for this?... I can't stop the question mark dot dot dot?... But did he seriously do that?... I mean?... Seriously?... Because?... If I had some water?... And made wine?... Well, wine kind of blows. So, no. SHIT. I forgot to do the dot dot dot thing. Reguardless, I don't need to need you. Tell me what to do, tell me what to say. Don't you want to help me? Tell me what to do, help me find a way? That's from a song. I'm not sure of the name of the song, and you can figure out which portions previously topen was the song. Also, typed will now be replaced by topen. I think the past tense of type should be topen. i.e. "Oh shit, I got in this huge legal battle over touching some dogs ear at the circus-fair. The judge ordered me to issue an apology. I couldn't believe it was something easily topen, but it ended up to be fairly comparable to a whispy in a cup." I don't need to elaborate, you could easily see why that should be changed. I should send an email to that fatty Webster or that chick OED. I think she runs most shit related to wordification. I'm not sure how often I've presented this fact here, but I live in Las Vegas. That's Las Vegas Nevada. I'm pretty sure there is a Las Vegas, Arizona. Which semi-blows my mind. Thinking on how something could only semi-blow your mind blows the remaining portion like a 2 dollar double-double. For the uninitiated, a double-double includes a lot of alcohol at most drinking institutions. Also, I think it means something in basketball. God, what a horrifically stupid sport. Forgetting that, it his drinking connotations. <--- that was a fucking incredible spelling recently topen. That's a word that does exist, and is hard. Regardless, I promise to not hit enter once during this thing. Let me tell you a secret. I have to go to gorramn Philadelphia for Thanksgiving. But not on the Thanksgiving day, the day after. To go to a wedding for some split-tail that I've never met in my entire life. And by "entire life" I mean "Probably once when I was six and shitfaced" minus the shitfaced. But anytime you say something you don't really remember just tag on "p.s. I was shitfaced" and it makes it easier to not remember half the story. Just be all like "oh man, and then I was locked in a room with these three dudes, one had a gun, the other had a blackjack, and the third was wearing some sort of clown costume that he probably ripped off a gas station attendant at a birthday party. Right as the guy was about to snagglesmack me with the ginormous blackjack, then I totally... oh wait, you know dude, I was so hammerfaced, I have no idea what happened. Sorry I just wasted ten minutes of your life." So back to the issue at hand, last time I saw this person, I was maybe old enough to realize that Sesame Street was trying to melt my brain with a counting ray. Needless to say, I have no idea who she's marrying, and honestly don't care. Now, I say "Don't care" with a slightly high level of error. Simply due to the fact that "open bar" and the possibility of "six Schlitz's please" with a side of "FARVA'S NUMBER ONE!" could greatly sway that level of caring. You know those candle lighters, the ones that are on hinges. They're created to make it so you don't burn yourself while lighting candles. I have a permanent scar on my left arm due to one of those burning the fuck out of me. I was so shitfaced I don't remember how it happened, maaaaan. (See how that works?) You can use that shit. God, I've gotta arc one decently bad. On a scale of one to arc one, I'd say I've gotta arc one. Back in a flash. Still refuse to use enter button. Not even for leakage time lapse. Seriously going to arc it. Ready?... Gonna do it?... I'm gonna?... Righto?... Two times back again, this is really starting to grow old. Aight, doneski getting my passport stamped to the urine-nation. There's something I've been meaning to tell the tubes for some time, and that's about my 3/4 sociopathic asian neighbor who's lot in life, seems to be anyways, playing darts in his garage. What does he do for work? What does he do for money? Last time I checked, well, and it's been ages since I have, but I don't think anyone pays people to drink and play darts in their garage with the door up so people wonder "what the fuck does he get paid for, he just plays darts?" Being that' I'm 87.5% sure they don't pay people in any fashion to play darts and drink beer for no reason, because I would've cornered the shit out of that market years ago and put baby in a corner so hard that she wouldn't know what hit her, also getting paid for darts and beer, go back and read the beginning of the sentence so you can catch up to where I'm gonna throw you back into the narrative, don't worry, I'll wait... I've come to the conclusion he's in the witness protection program. And getting caught up in a mafia hit firefight has crossed my mind a few times. I'm not too worried though, because odds are he was in the mafia for something math related. I say that because I think I saw him with a calculator once, not because he's Asian. But that probably helped. He was probably just computing his darts score though, which should be no problem for him... um, cause he had a calculator (Not due to Asianess). <--- that needs to be a word too. I say that because if some dudes busted in to shoot him, I highly doubt he'd shoot back. Going from Asian neighbors straight out to shit that fell on my truck. A tree fell on my truck the other day. One might think, "dear jesus waterwine catastrophe, tree on truck, my jizzle that's sizzle!" and I'd say, what's wrong with your brainpan. But it's the truth, the pride and joy of Las Vegas trees fell on the back of my truck. And my truck said, what was that? did the wind just blow? Because the pride and joy of vegas trees is something a new england tree wouldn't shit out before breakfast. Because it'd wait until there was something of substance to move through whatever trees do for waste. I came outside of my dwelling to go to wally world to find this sad excuse for a shitty tree laying on the bed of my truck. With my smallest fingernail I picked it up and javelin'ed it through my neighbors house. Likely he thought it was a mob hit and never came out. But seriously, he's got to get his asianshit together and fix his trees. This brings the discussion to my other Asian neighbors. I think I'm the only white person here by the way. Help help I'm being repressed. They have an asinine amount of satellite receivers in their garage. I don't know if they're some sort of superhero group that repairs people's satellite TV, or if they steal them from neighborhood homes and sell them back. This is a fairly big worry for me, because one time I thought I wanted satellite TV. But then I was thinking, crazy Azns nextdoor might take my precious. Precious TV go bye bye. And then I thought, OH HELL NO BITCHES. And I didn't get the TV service. A more likely scenario is that I didn't want to pay the satellite deposit to my realty company. But who are you gonna belive? Me, or them?... Yeah right son?... Not a single child came to my house for Halloween, so I have a RETARDED amount of candy left over. I thought for some reason children would come, and I would make their night rule with my robust amount of candy. And also scar them with comments. But besides that, none came. It was the horseshit of all horseshits. Bonus plus, I have a shitload of Snickers mini's. Bonus minus, I have a shitload of Snickers mini's. Well, not mini's, funsize. YES THAT'S ACTUALLY TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. Shit, you figure it out. And back to oldschool college days, I'll throw in a picture at the end. Like you even goddamn deserve it. You flippin' slacker.

Was it good for you? It was good for me.

FUCK, GOD DAMMIT ENTER BUTTON. Well, I lie a lot. Get used to it. LEARN SHIT LIKE THAT, BECAUSE: