Not using my sad, little LiveJournal is like forgetting about an old friend.

But you're so outdated, in every way, little LiveJournal.

I'll keep an eye, still, but I have no commitment available to you.

Little LiveJournal.

Someone at work just let out a bitch of a scream. Not a yelp, or a startled cry, or a shriek, but a straight up, lung-challenging, "Holy rape!" scream.

I can't decide to investigate or not, but if there's a followup, I might have to. Excitement. It's too much... Vision... tunnelling... Losing will... to... type...

This is going to be a long, lonely week. It's beautiful outside, though.

I already don't feel like writing any more, since it's just a rehash of what I've already written privately. Hmmm.

Dear Livejournal,

Please do not construe my complete lack of interest in you as anything significant. I have found myself writing in my physical (i.e. "real") journal much more significantly than you. But you're still a friend, a dear one.

We'll talk soon.

Love, Aaron.

- Describe me in one word. One single word. Positive or negative.

- Leave your word in a comment before looking at what words others have used. I'm even allowing anonymous comments (if I can) if you want to be a jerkoff.

- Then copy and paste the meme to your journal to find out how people will describe you when limited to one word. (A.K.A.: it's a meme. I'll just leave this meme here.)

Five years is a long time.

Happy 48th, Mr. Rollins. I've loved you since I was too young to understand what sexual attraction was.

Fucking two days before Valentine's Day with the episode of That 70's Show where Eric and Donna fuck for the first time might be the most romantic sex I've ever had, haha. Sad and happy and hilarious. And awesome.

In honor of Domestic Disturbia '09, I present...

Christopher Robyn's Greatest Hits!

Yes, sixteen of your favorite tracks from Rihanna Pon de Forehead and the Sea Breeze!

1. Rihanna - Disturbia
2. Rihanna ft. Ne-Yo - There's A Thug In My Life
3. Ludacris ft. Chris Brown and Sean Garrett - What Them Girls Like
4. Rihanna - Shut Up And Drive
5. Rihanna - Unfaithful
6. T-Pain ft. Chris Brown - Freeze
7. Rihanna ft. Chris Brown - Bad Girl
8. Rihanna - Breakin' Dishes
9. Elephant Man ft. Rihanna - Throw Your Hands Up
10. Chris Brown - Throwed
11. Rihanna - Cry
12. Chris Brown - Take You Down
13. Rihanna - S.O.S.
14. Rihanna - Hate That I Love You
15. Chris Brown - Ain't No Way (You Won't Love Me)
16. Chris Brown - Winner

Daniel is out in his garage using power tools while I am in the kitchen cooking and using the internet. I'm glad we can both fit into the pants in this relationship, haha.

Lazy Sunday. (Wake up in the later afternoon.)

ohnotheydidnt hit 16.7m comments in its lifetime and broke the hidden LJ comment count meter. The LJ staff itself didn't even know it existed.

Fucking awesome.

From thesugarmonster, with love and possibilities.

The first seven (7) people to respond to this post will get something made by me.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:

• I make no guarantees that you will like what I make.
• What I create will be just for you.
• It'll be done this year (2009).
• No requests - it could be anything. It may be a mix CD. It may be a poem. I may draw or paint something. I might bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows?
• I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.
• (My own rule:) It will probably not be coming soon so as to be a forgotten treasure to (hopefully) perk up a random day throughout the year.

The catch is that if you don't re-post this offer, the bargain is void!

I watched the episode of Superjail! Sunday night called Mr. Grumpy-pants, and it's been lingering in my head all day. Little reminders keep popping up to remind me of the little girl "named" Cancer ("San-ser") and I still (still still still) can't decide if I liked the episode, or hated it, or was depressed by it. I know I still can't decide if the show as a whole is supposed to be a comedy - clearly it's either a dark comedy or just a dark show - but in general it's always struck me as a full fifteen-minute episode of the "freakout" moments from shows like Metalocalypse.

I think I liked it, but I think it was too dark for me to be what I would call "entertained." More like haunted, but not in an overall negative context. It's just... lingering. It's a fingerprint I can't buff away, though I keep trying. I'm sure once its gone I'll wish it was still there, like evidence to figure out a huge psychological crime spree washed away by a thoughtless detective.

That metaphor is weak.

My brain is busy.

I want to see Kevin and Olivia frolic in pie filling wearing french maid uniforms. Is that so much to ask, internet?!

(P.S. I know Superjail! is done by Jackson Publick (or rather, Christopher McCullcoh, the real-person-name behind the Jackson Publick psudo) but it isn't anywhere near as good as Venture Bros. Venture Brothers is like a delicous, late-night snack, whereas Superjail! is a criminal, diet-breaking dash for the fridge when you hope no one can see.)

You have 209 filthy lucre.

Thanks for your patronage, Bounty Hunter!
You acquire an item: Manual of Transcendent Olfaction

You begin reading the book. After the first couple of chapters, your nose begins to twitch. After a few more, you start to pick up on odors you'd never noticed before. By the time you finish, your sense of smell has been elevated to a superhuman level.

Transcendent Olfaction (HP)

I am going to marry my novels and have little short stories for children.

—Jack Kerouac

Does anyone use Google Reader for their RSS? I want friends to share stories with, haha, none of my friends (real friends and Google friended friends) actually share anything, or use Reader, and I want new things! NEW!

http://reader.google.com/

Everyone go check it out.

Should you ever despair of life so much that you want to die, you have the means at hand and yearn to end your life, you have written a suicide note to those you will leave behind and you are prepared to die... at that moment, stop. Get a pair of scissors. Cut away at the note until you end up with a piece of paper in the shape of a key. Go to a door, any one will do. Push the paper key forward and turn your hand as if unlocking an imaginary lock. The lock is real. Open the door. There you will find it. The other earth. The one that awaits to replace this one when it dies. That death is inevitable, but in the meantime the other earth will belong to you. Be warned: the other earth is very different from this one.

It has been reported that some victims of torture, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not WAKE UP. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren’t being tortured. The only way that they realized they needed to WAKE UP was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to WAKE UP. Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and PLEASE WAKE UP.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream." You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23. "Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?" "No, Daddy." The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not sweetie?" "Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up." For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye.

What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."