Happy Black Friday everyone. I'm sure there's a band with that name. I have been kind of obsessed with Guitar Hero recently; so much so that I couldn't get to sleep last night because "Strutter" was playing in my head. It makes everything else melt. Kind of cool. But on to the quotes.
Title Source: "Crashing Down" by Dead Poetic. My head makes videos for almost every song I hear. This is no exception.
“Pay attention to Blinky. Blinky’s never let you down!”
“I think they should have that instead of announcements.”
“What, a fire?”
“Where was I?”
“Nebraska.”
“That’s wrong. Hookers are people too.”
“Wait, are you defending raping hookers?”
“If you rape her, do you pay her?”
“No, it’s shoplifting. We’ve been over this.”
Don't go shopping.
24 November 2006
17 November 2006
Get busy living or get busy dying.
Woah. Updated system for blogger. I'm sure most of you have already seen, but it's pretty cool. I was going to complain about my being sick, but that's not interesting. And neither is me talking about the play. So on to the funness.
Title Source: "The Shawshank Redemption". I get the feeling Fall Out Boy used this in a song. If so, my apologies.
“The only way to tell the difference between the staff and the patients in that place was that the staff had the keys.”
“My mother is in the living room telling her friend about her mushroom experiences.”
“Wait. Are you asking me to get high with you?”
“Ceri, you can drink, right? You’re old enough.”
“When Brother called Mrs. Coda in about Will and Dionne, he gave her the list of people on retreat and said, ‘Find these two kids.’ and apparently she took one look at it and said, ‘Well obviously it's Ceri Quattrin and Andrew McCarty. but they're faculty kids so can we just brush this under the rug?’ You know, just to mess with him. My dad told me that and I screamed, 'WHAT?!’”
“In the Haight yesterday I saw a guy who was Chuck if he turned into an indie kid.”
“Remember Sturgeon’s Law: 90% of everything is crap.”
“Why is my computer so slow?”
“Because it’s using inhalants.”
“I think flirting is a science.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you think spewing out confetti is a lot of fun.”
“It is. Duh.”
“My lemming isn’t dead!”
“It committed suicide because it saw your face.”
“Nice one. I like her.”
“Friends are loyal. Like dogs. Only you don’t feed them treats, you give them cash.”
“It was a question. It was an invisible question.”
“Yes, we're going to have Dougie as your background. Just tack pictures on Doug.”
“You are many whores, Adam darling.”
“At least I’d look really chill in comparison.”
“A paranoid skitzophrenic would look chill in comparison.”
“I would look comatose then.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I sound like a chain smoker.”
“No. That is the store of lost souls. Not lost crack addicts.”
“That’s like sticking a flamingo on roller skates: it’s just awkward and pathetic to watch.”
“Yum, implied jugulars.”
“I’m being an integer!”
“Oh captain, my captain, this moment, very moment.”
“I’m not a bad guy. I could rape people.”
“Every romantic comedy needs zombies.”
“They’re hidden behind a veil of secrecy… and chocolate.”
“What kind of sex have you been having? Carbonated sex?”
“Every time you hear a bell, a fetus gets its wings.”
“Your butt is in my seat.”
“And not just my butt. All of me!”
“There are five of them. That equals five.”
“It’s a sweat collector. Not a hair protector.”
“Hell to the no am I doing lights with her.”
Title Source: "The Shawshank Redemption". I get the feeling Fall Out Boy used this in a song. If so, my apologies.
“The only way to tell the difference between the staff and the patients in that place was that the staff had the keys.”
“My mother is in the living room telling her friend about her mushroom experiences.”
“Wait. Are you asking me to get high with you?”
“Ceri, you can drink, right? You’re old enough.”
“When Brother called Mrs. Coda in about Will and Dionne, he gave her the list of people on retreat and said, ‘Find these two kids.’ and apparently she took one look at it and said, ‘Well obviously it's Ceri Quattrin and Andrew McCarty. but they're faculty kids so can we just brush this under the rug?’ You know, just to mess with him. My dad told me that and I screamed, 'WHAT?!’”
“In the Haight yesterday I saw a guy who was Chuck if he turned into an indie kid.”
“Remember Sturgeon’s Law: 90% of everything is crap.”
“Why is my computer so slow?”
“Because it’s using inhalants.”
“I think flirting is a science.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you think spewing out confetti is a lot of fun.”
“It is. Duh.”
“My lemming isn’t dead!”
“It committed suicide because it saw your face.”
“Nice one. I like her.”
“Friends are loyal. Like dogs. Only you don’t feed them treats, you give them cash.”
“It was a question. It was an invisible question.”
“Yes, we're going to have Dougie as your background. Just tack pictures on Doug.”
“You are many whores, Adam darling.”
“At least I’d look really chill in comparison.”
“A paranoid skitzophrenic would look chill in comparison.”
“I would look comatose then.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I sound like a chain smoker.”
“No. That is the store of lost souls. Not lost crack addicts.”
“That’s like sticking a flamingo on roller skates: it’s just awkward and pathetic to watch.”
“Yum, implied jugulars.”
“I’m being an integer!”
“Oh captain, my captain, this moment, very moment.”
“I’m not a bad guy. I could rape people.”
“Every romantic comedy needs zombies.”
“They’re hidden behind a veil of secrecy… and chocolate.”
“What kind of sex have you been having? Carbonated sex?”
“Every time you hear a bell, a fetus gets its wings.”
“Your butt is in my seat.”
“And not just my butt. All of me!”
“There are five of them. That equals five.”
“It’s a sweat collector. Not a hair protector.”
“Hell to the no am I doing lights with her.”
10 November 2006
Love, four words explode above a mnemonic device
The week from Hell has finally ended. Tech rehersals last much longer when you have eight- count 'em- EIGHT cues in the whole show; you can blame the deficiency of quotes on it. Just to show how much sleep I haven't been getting, I've slept twice this week in Latin. Not amazing to most at first glance, I know, but I never sleep in class. At least Mattimore was more obvious than I was.
Title Source: "Lachrymose Obsequious Vehement Elated" by Bright Eyes. I've never heard this song, but I liked the lyric.
“So apparently, I’m a town in central Italy.”
“It looks beautiful. So you really are a supreme ruler. And here I thought we were just having some fun.”
“Wow. If I didn’t know that was me, I’d say, ‘What a pretty girl’.”
“Well I don’t know. It was brown and rectangular. It could be a box.”
“Because everything brown is a box.”
“There’s nothing sexy about a tuba.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“Dress in drag and do the hula!”
“In the city, there is a dildo factory and they give tours.”
“Is that a GOYB?”
Title Source: "Lachrymose Obsequious Vehement Elated" by Bright Eyes. I've never heard this song, but I liked the lyric.
“So apparently, I’m a town in central Italy.”
“It looks beautiful. So you really are a supreme ruler. And here I thought we were just having some fun.”
“Wow. If I didn’t know that was me, I’d say, ‘What a pretty girl’.”
“Well I don’t know. It was brown and rectangular. It could be a box.”
“Because everything brown is a box.”
“There’s nothing sexy about a tuba.”
“What’re you gonna do?”
“Dress in drag and do the hula!”
“In the city, there is a dildo factory and they give tours.”
“Is that a GOYB?”
03 November 2006
The world's a roller coaster and I am not strapped in.
Why did I post last night? I knew I was doing this today. Oh well. Kind of shitty day after a string of kind of shitty days this week. So I'm glad it's over. But I wrote some stuff and I got more ideas for this things that's been on hiatus a while. So that's good.
Title Source: "I Wish You Were Here" by Incubus. Not to be confused with Pink Floyd, though it's about as relaxing. I found the album today on sale at Borders. The things people don't want.
“What’s up?”
“Your mother. You?”
“Your face.”
“Yeah, that is a dumbcool idea.”
“They go together like peanut and buttsex.”
“It’s weird have a design on my skin that I know won’t come off with soap.”
“Right. It’s like AIDS.”
“That would be odd if AIDS came off with soap.”
“No. It would save hella people.”
“Sorry. Issues.”
“Hopefully not blind ones. Haha. Gay band joke.”
“He-Dad. Like He-Man. Just awesomer.”
“My mom thinks it’s far out that I’m portraying a whore.”
“No one is technically equal, because as humans we cannot grasp the concept of being the same as everyone else.”
“I’m a whore. Isn’t that lovely?”
“Oh my word, there is no way he will accept that. You are relying on the flawed assumption that Chevans is not a punitive, menopausal bitch.”
“What are you writing to be nosy?”
“Poetry to be honest.”
“It shows you have a sensitive side that you like to reveal in a creative way.”
“Sensitive like an emo kid and creative like a starving artist.”
“Sensitive like a human who feels things, and creative like an artist who is fortunate to have been brought up in a comfortable home but still is able to understand the plights of others and recognizes situations that invoke deep thought.”
“Don’t make me sound like someone important.”
“Revengeance!”
“Father Arrupe, report to the Dean’s office with a hot dog.”
“And don’t forget the sauerkraut.”
“Yes. I misplaced my pancreas.”
“Verbal violence is fine.”
“If I had a potato, I wouldn’t need sound effects.”
“If you were pretty, you wouldn’t need to go to an orgy because you could get some otherwise.”
“I bruise like a peach.”
“Well, I bruise like a rotten peach.”
“At least you don’t bruise like a rotten baby.”
“Wait, all the Romans moved to Utah?”
“Kylie, what words are you saying?!”
“Potato sex what?”
“[with wavey hand motions] I’M A MUSHROOM!”
“No communist masturbation.”
“Are you writing notes? Ooh, shame! What kind of notes?”
“They’re dirty underhanded notes.”
“…Well, this one is.”
Title Source: "I Wish You Were Here" by Incubus. Not to be confused with Pink Floyd, though it's about as relaxing. I found the album today on sale at Borders. The things people don't want.
“What’s up?”
“Your mother. You?”
“Your face.”
“Yeah, that is a dumbcool idea.”
“They go together like peanut and buttsex.”
“It’s weird have a design on my skin that I know won’t come off with soap.”
“Right. It’s like AIDS.”
“That would be odd if AIDS came off with soap.”
“No. It would save hella people.”
“Sorry. Issues.”
“Hopefully not blind ones. Haha. Gay band joke.”
“He-Dad. Like He-Man. Just awesomer.”
“My mom thinks it’s far out that I’m portraying a whore.”
“No one is technically equal, because as humans we cannot grasp the concept of being the same as everyone else.”
“I’m a whore. Isn’t that lovely?”
“Oh my word, there is no way he will accept that. You are relying on the flawed assumption that Chevans is not a punitive, menopausal bitch.”
“What are you writing to be nosy?”
“Poetry to be honest.”
“It shows you have a sensitive side that you like to reveal in a creative way.”
“Sensitive like an emo kid and creative like a starving artist.”
“Sensitive like a human who feels things, and creative like an artist who is fortunate to have been brought up in a comfortable home but still is able to understand the plights of others and recognizes situations that invoke deep thought.”
“Don’t make me sound like someone important.”
“Revengeance!”
“Father Arrupe, report to the Dean’s office with a hot dog.”
“And don’t forget the sauerkraut.”
“Yes. I misplaced my pancreas.”
“Verbal violence is fine.”
“If I had a potato, I wouldn’t need sound effects.”
“If you were pretty, you wouldn’t need to go to an orgy because you could get some otherwise.”
“I bruise like a peach.”
“Well, I bruise like a rotten peach.”
“At least you don’t bruise like a rotten baby.”
“Wait, all the Romans moved to Utah?”
“Kylie, what words are you saying?!”
“Potato sex what?”
“[with wavey hand motions] I’M A MUSHROOM!”
“No communist masturbation.”
“Are you writing notes? Ooh, shame! What kind of notes?”
“They’re dirty underhanded notes.”
“…Well, this one is.”
02 November 2006
So close your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep.
Sleep. What I should be doing. Also a My Chemical Romance song. Fragment sentences.
But yes, I have listened to The Black Parade more than 20 times since I got it, and if you don't like that, then you don't have to, because I do and who cares what you think. *cough* I'm finished.
I found this earlier in my notebook when I was feeling terrible and am thinking of submitting to the Quill. The title's shitty, but I can almost hear it performed, and there's probably a video being made in my head as you read as well. Screw legitimate punctuation. Anyway.
Self-Intervention
I've got an addiction that's so easy to feed
The more I choke it down, the more I need
It's doing wonders for my psyche but a number on my head
Next thing I know, I'm alone in the bed
Nothing's coming slow and oh-so lethargic
All I need now is for you just to barge in
And tell me that I'm crazy
For wanting all the things I do
The reality check is a major buzz kill
But I'll be drunk again soon
The room is spinning faster to the beat
And I can feel the sweat from the heat
Just one more dozen past the sphincter
For a little more time the took and inked her
People walk by and stare, but I can't make myself care
Because all I hear's your words impared:
Telling me that I'm all mazy
How my philosophy's a sham
This reality is harshing my mellow
Hope you got it all on camera
Why do you have to tell me that it's wrong?
It could wait until a better time
Just wait for a more sober moment
The one I can tell you what's mine ~ to waste
So tell me that I'm crazy
For all the sick, sick things I do
My addiction won't fade, like us, so fast
So how about you convince of something true?
The poetic devices are probably lost in translation. Hell, sometimes I don't even understand about what I'm writing.
But yes, I have listened to The Black Parade more than 20 times since I got it, and if you don't like that, then you don't have to, because I do and who cares what you think. *cough* I'm finished.
I found this earlier in my notebook when I was feeling terrible and am thinking of submitting to the Quill. The title's shitty, but I can almost hear it performed, and there's probably a video being made in my head as you read as well. Screw legitimate punctuation. Anyway.
Self-Intervention
I've got an addiction that's so easy to feed
The more I choke it down, the more I need
It's doing wonders for my psyche but a number on my head
Next thing I know, I'm alone in the bed
Nothing's coming slow and oh-so lethargic
All I need now is for you just to barge in
And tell me that I'm crazy
For wanting all the things I do
The reality check is a major buzz kill
But I'll be drunk again soon
The room is spinning faster to the beat
And I can feel the sweat from the heat
Just one more dozen past the sphincter
For a little more time the took and inked her
People walk by and stare, but I can't make myself care
Because all I hear's your words impared:
Telling me that I'm all mazy
How my philosophy's a sham
This reality is harshing my mellow
Hope you got it all on camera
Why do you have to tell me that it's wrong?
It could wait until a better time
Just wait for a more sober moment
The one I can tell you what's mine ~ to waste
So tell me that I'm crazy
For all the sick, sick things I do
My addiction won't fade, like us, so fast
So how about you convince of something true?
The poetic devices are probably lost in translation. Hell, sometimes I don't even understand about what I'm writing.
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