Lemon Party
Friday, April 30, 2004
This update not about badgers (badger)
There are a great many things that make a blog not just a good blog, but a great blog. There are also a great many things that make a decent blog into a cesspool of shit, but we won't go into those as we already assume that by reading us you've learned SOMETHING about blogging. Now let's be honest for a moment folks, there are only two reasons to have a blog (well three). The first is that you want people to know about your life, as you're sick and tired of people asking you what's up every single fucking day and one day you're just going to get a kitchen knife and SWISH there goes his head. The other of course is a bit more selfish, you want everyone to post comments pitying you and agreeing with you.
This update will be about that style of blogging. To pull it off correctly you need to do (or be) one of these two things. The first is just to have a life so terribly pathetic that no one could find wrong in you and you truly deserve that praise and pity. The second is more of an easy way out of you don't feel like waiting to alienate all of your friends and get everyone to hate you so that you can then start a blog after everyone seemed to just hate you for "no real reason." To pull this off you need a little help from your friend selective omission.
"But Andrew", you might be saying "I'm really stupid so I like don't really know what selective omission is, what's selective omission?" I'm glad that you asked my finely feathered friend, I am in fact so glad that you asked that I will answer your question (which is really my question) without insulting you. Selective omission is when you ask a question or you state something without really telling the whole story. It would be like if your mother asked you if you broke the lamp. To which of course you'd say no, the dog ran into the lamp because something spooked him. You would of course fail to mention that it was your bullhorn that spooked the dog. Understand? Excellent! Let's begin.
Let's imagine for a moment that you're at a party where that really hot girl in your math class is. This is your moment of glory, your moment to shine... and of course you completely blow it. So what to tell your adoring fans? What do you tell people so that they will not only comfort you, but also beat up that bitchy girl who totally ruined your life? You tell everyone that while you were at the party you asked the girl to dance, and not only did she not even talk to you, she danced with the next available guy. THAT BITCH. You of course fail to mention that she was already having a conversation with another person... oh and she was 5 feet away at the time. Kind of hard to hear with the music blasting, good thing that your adoring fans don't know that.
Selective omission pays off again! But what do you do when they find out the truth and try and call you on it. We've simulated two situations: One, someone who you don't like who was also at the party finds your blog and decides to reveal your lies. And the other is when one of your friends talks to one of their friends. Both should work, assuming that you're not some sort of retarded badger.
Posted by: Naomi
Yea, so I was totally near Stephanie the entire night and I never ever saw you get like within 5 feet of her. You're just making stuff up so that Stephanie will pity you and like you and so that your friends won't realize what s loser you are you loser. You should shut up and leave Stephanie alone!
To which you reply
Posted by: lonely bitter SOUL REAVER Q
Go suck a dick you slut, you were probably so high on other people's semen that you couldn't see straight. I was there and I talked to Stephanie and she ignored me completely. I hope that you and your lies die.
Perfect! You sure told her. Be careful what you say though, if one of your friends is also friends with the offending person try stating in the most friendly of manners that their love of drugs might have made a negative impact on their ability to see and perceive distance, because you were totally like right next to her. Now lets say that one of your friends decides to speak up
posted by: Your friend
I talked to Rich and he said that he was at the party and didn't really see you get anywhere near Stephanie. I dunno dude, you sure that it was actually Stephanie and not a look alike?
To which you reply
posted by: OMG SO BITTER
Yea, I saw rich at the party but he seemed pretty busy partying, I don't think that he saw me that often. I mean unless rich was following me around, right? Anyways so he probably just missed it, it all happened pretty quickly
Good! You've stopped that bastard from doubting you. Be sure to make a mental note to rag on your friend in the next updates for not believing you, pretty soon they'll be submissive and believe every word that you say. Once that's happened you're only one step away from world domination. Tell those friends to tell their friends to read your blog for no apparent reason. Soon you'll have a whole slew of converts ready to follow your every command. Use this power to take over the government and earn yourself an Emmy. Good luck!
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Monday, April 26, 2004
A Very Short Story: The Killers
So anyway, there I was in the Serengeti, mano a mano with a deadly man-eating lion. I knew there would be time enough for but one shot, so I had to time it right. It was then that my second wife had the poor judgment to loudly demand that the porters uncork another bottle of wine.
Which of course led me realize that I was not, in fact, Ernest Hemingway, and that big game hunting is incredibly homosexual. I don't just mean the extensive use of long hard firearms. We're talking the whole men versus beast mentality, the male bonding, the drunken orgies... It's been statistically proven that hunters all want butt-loving. Badly. But that is neither here nor there. Though it does pertain to hair. Though some would say that no one cares, I think that's not fair. And neither does the mayor. Or his prize-winning hare. When it comes to hares, I can't help but stop and stare. It's not just the glare, though it's hardly rare. It has more to do with the wares in the air upstairs. This paragraph was done on a dare. A square dare. Made in a lair.
Which is what I am. Actually not a lair, but instead a liar. The difference is minor, but should be recorded for posterity. Speaking of posterity, there is such a thing as a past. The past is what has happened before now, not to be confused with history, which is what has not occurred in the past. In the past there was a Lemon Party poster who went by the nom de plume of dfjawioeraiod. His name was actually dfjaquidjh, but we just called him lewis. He was added to the roster for reasons not entirely clear, but mostly because it seemed funny at the time. For similar reasons he was removed with much pomp and circumstance. Well actually the pomp and circumstance was aimed at a point a few days after his actual ouster. You see I lied. I do that sometimes. Like when I said that turtle_07 promised not to raise taxes when elected. Utter fabrication. And not a very useful one. But the one about lewis was simply out of expediency. Once he got wind of his coming retirement he went on a tear; posting unceasingly on his charms. He threw out anything and everything in a mad, sad dash to save his skin. I was irritated. Our faithful Lemon Party readers simply could not handle the unending barrage of words. So I cut him off early. Approval was immediate and universal. As you know (If you're one of the selfish bastards that ghost/lurk the comments without leaving any direct sign of your presence) lewis is returning as the "Official Lemon Party intern and coffee fetcher." No one associated with Lemon Party drinks coffee, so the second half of his title is largely ceremonial. If you have opinions one way or the other in this turn of events, I urge you to speak out in the comments box. If you fail to comment, I will mercilessly deride your use of leetspe@k to avoid googlebots. You have been warned. Speaking of trying to hide from google... Just don't be a stupid faggot. That should cover it.
Speaking of faggotry, let's talk Hemingway again, for just a few ticks of the clock. Or what would be a few ticks of the clock if you weren't a digital watch-wearing, glisteningly drool-chinned Philistine mongoloid. But let's not get distracted. Let's keep the light admirably focused, but not so brightly as to blind us to the details. That would the words of Frank O'Connor, not Hemingway. Or is close enough to O'Connor's words for me to be satisfied without checking in Bartlett's. Hemingway. Self-important, self-indulgent basticher. Wrote about how F. Scott Fitzgerald came up to him asking if his penis was too small. Wife was being shrewish and surprising red-headed considering her hair color. This was before she went to the nuthouse. Or at least before she went for good. So Hemingway has a talk with poor Scott and cheers him up about his tiny little willy. What a crock of shit. Shite as our dear, dear Irisher, Dave Nelson, would say.
And don't get me started on his fucking "distinctive style." He went with that shit in maybe half his stories. The rest are mishmash of traditional storytelling and artistic experiments he still got to sell as short stories. Rampant, unabashed faggotry. It makes me sad. But Hemingway never wrote on the internet, obviously. The Hemingway Solution was employed long before the interwebnation superhighway opened its eyes. But that doesn't stop over five hundred live journal users from citing "Hemingway" as one of their "interests." And another seventy or so of their ilk can be found on deadjournal.
But Hemingway isn't the problem, despite my bitter pointless whining.* In fact he's not bad at all. But his fans who livejournals and deadjournals... Well let's just call them typical bloggers and skip the quoting part of the update.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
*I might call it ranting, but everyone who uses that word is actually just whining, and being a pathetic bitch. Just another word that has been butchered into uselessness under the assault of rampant idiocy. You know the words: niggardly, nauseous, utilize... the list goes on. I hate you bastards for murdering the English language.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Hello World
Another update by Andrew, woooo are you getting tired of my inane ramblings yet? Sigh, sometimes I just get so depressed... just... so depressed that I need to tell the internet about it. I go home sometimes, and I cry. And I think to myself: "If only internet denizens knew of my pain, then I'd get the respect I deserve." But I don't, I don't... for you. If I spend all of my time talking about how horrible my life is, how will our loyal readers learn how to blog? I gladly suffer the burden of the world on my shoulders so that you all can get your daily (not always daily) dosage (do not take more than 50ccs) of Lemon Party's unique brand of humor (humour). Or something like that, my updates have gotten crazier and much less coherent, I've lost the spark of life some might say.
I lack coherency; I lack a preset topic. Which in the end tends to hurt my update. This update will not be long, it will just stand as testament to what I am about to do. If you would like comment and tell me what you want my next update to be on. If not, I will type a random word into google, take a random word from the first webpage, find a synonym and then write the update about that. Things are about to get weird people, can you smell what the rock is cooking?
I'm just kidding, this update won't be short at all. I still have things to talk about, things like my undeniable hatred for wombats. I think that they were wombats anyway, it seems that recently my hatred for random things just tends to merge together. That's the price I pay for hating everyone and everything. Except for all racial and ethnic minorities, please don't sue me. In case you're curious about why I hate everyone so much there is a very good reason for it. So good in fact that I'm going to continue writing sentences about it so that you're driven insane by what the reason might be. Maybe it's castor oil you think, possibly fish paste. What is that damnable reason that Andrew, the master of suspense is keeping from us?
Well, you're all wrong. It's love. I hate because I love. I love you so much that I am forced to see your faults, and through seeing those faults I make commandments, for you people to learn off of. I don't like what I do, but I do it for you. And by saying that I don't like what I do, I actually mean that I do like what I do. It's funny how language works out that way huh? I mean you'd think that by reading that sentence it would mean that I don't enjoy what I do, but because of the subtle intricacies of the English language it actually means the exact opposite, man life is just crazy. I bet that the Chinese don't have that problem. In case you're curious about what sort of problems that Chinese have you should probably head over to a Chinese teenager's blog and learn Chinese. Chinese.
Case in point: I just don't like people.
You know what else I don't like? People who can't take the time to spell one sentence right. No, I'm not talking about random sentences inside updates, I'm talking about people who have as the title to their blog: "Da best blog in da wurld" except that you're pretty sure that they didn't do any of that on purpose to be cute.
Case in point: Klic hear to see what I'm talking bout Willis.
And so, we bid a sorrowful farewell to another fantastic entry were we all learned a lot.
Case in Point:
Thou Shalt Take the Time To Spell Important Sentances (Spelled incorrectly for posterity and irony) Correctly
Case in point: And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
(This has been one turtle_07 catchphrase attempt that will not catch on. You have my word - Odovauver)
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
But each day when she walks to the sea, she looks straight ahead. Not at me.
Right now, I'm listening to Send In The Clowns as sung by Frank Sinatra, and man is it making me depressed. Not depressed in a Dashboard Confessional way, but depressed in a "Man, this song is depressing... but good" way. Needless to say, most of my generation doesn't even know who Frank Sinatra is, and before I continue I would like to take the time to tell Odovaucer to shut up. You were thinking it. (By it he means that he's a flagrant homosexual - Odovaucer)
Man... it's just... it's hard to go on, you know? Our humble blog has been putting along nicely for about... oh... six months. I don't know, but it's been a while hasn't it? We update, we pour our hearts and souls into this blog, we try to make the blog as amusing as it is awesome, which is no easy feat let me tell you. We're like SlackWare. We offer what we hope to be humor in blog form. Much like SlackWare, which offers the most unix-like linux, we offer the most non-blog like blog if that makes any sense. Which I'm sure it doesn't, man you readers are really getting the short end of the stick lately.
But what am I doing? Day before yesterday I told you all that I would do a long and boring update about something or other, and this doesn't seem to be something, or other. So I suppose that in a way I'm no longer holding up my end of the bargain, but first please. Hear me out. This is important to me. I've been searching you know... searching for... I don't know honestly, the answers maybe. Maybe not. That's not important though, what is important though, is my discovery.
I knew... God help me I knew that one day it would destroy us. Or at least try to, and today I have found the truth. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and to be very honest I have grown in the last few days, bothe (unnecessary e for posterity) emotionally and spiritually and truly I can see what a fool I've been. To everyone: I'm sorry, I just didn't know. I've been a fool, and it's my foolishness that might lead us to destruction. There is no truth beyond our truth, if that makes any sense. Which it doesn't, at least not to me. What is there to say? I have been a fool, blind to the real problem.
As you might guess from the link, once again it's hats that has led us to question our own self existence, our own need for importance. When searching for hats I came across a site. A site that was created before ours devoted to mocking LiveJournals. True, this is only one site, a community that is long dead. But that still raises the question, if there is one there might be many more. How many more? How many have spawned, how many have died, when will it all end? If that site, a community with two writers (well three), much like our own died out so quickly, what does that say about Lemon Party. True our reader base probably is slightly greater (only because of google), but still; how long will it take us to slowly fade out into obscurity, how long until we are lost in the sands of the Interwebnation Superhighway? Sites come and sites go, are we a young site with everything to gain? Or are we teetering on the edge of obscurity, doomed to fail.
Although, more importantly. How many blogs like ours, devoted to ridiculing the blog culture, how many have crumbled and how many still exist? It is with this question in mind, that I unveil the newest, and most important commandment. In the immortal words of Frank Sinatra (He probably wasn't the first person to sing the song, I'm too lazy to research):
A lady doesn't wander all over the room, and blow on some other guys dice (lol dice - Odovaucer).
Thou Shalt Have No Other Blogs Before Ours
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Monday, April 19, 2004
I will no longer do the Devil's wishes, something I read on the dollar bill.
Today, I thought that I would do something so wacky, so crazy, that it could only become a future Lemon Party tradition. I will write the update by stringing together random sentence(s) from songs. Ready? Set? JAM!
My birthplace would be hard to find, it changed so many times. I'm not sure where it belongs. But the tell me the Baltic coast was full of amber, and once I was the king of Spain. This uncontrollable world of suffering! I met the ghost of Stephen Foster at the hotel paradise, and this is what he told me as I gazed into his eyes: This is gonna hurt kid. You better hold on tight. Let English men fight English wars, it's nearly time they started-oh. Come sail away with me.
Ok, that sucks, and it's hard to string these things together coherently without spending such an absurd amount of time that all hope is lost.
So this update was neither fun, long, or exciting. Instead of wasting the normal 5 minutes reading it, you've wasted about thirty seconds and got nothing back in return. As soon as stealing people's precious time becomes a crime and we are taken to jail, you'll just have to deal with it.
Of course this brings us to a much more important topic: Why are there never any updates on the weekends? I bet you ask yourself that every single day over the weekend as your life just seems to lack meaning without The Party filling your empty day with our wonderful... Correction, MY wonderful witticisms. Well, the honest to God truth is that Odovaucer decreed that we would have no updates over the weekends, and so over the weekends no updates shall there be.
Which brings me to my final, last, and finishing point.
Thou Shalt Not Update Over The Weekend
Don't you feel robbed of an update? Yea, so do I. Tune in tomorrow when someone besides me updates, or if they don't update you'll probably get a long boring update about how I hate everyone. Especially you.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Let's talk about perversion
Holy cow, this might actually be my first update with a point, and a matching title no less. Sometimes I'm so insane that there is rhyme to my reason, a method to my madness so to speak. Not that there isn't usually a method to my madness, but this time it's readily apparent and doesn't require removing your brain to understand.
Hoo, so, we're here to talk about perversion, which I'm sure that you all know a lot about. I of course am the logical person to discuss it as I have been called, on occasion, the most perverted person on Lemon Party, probably because of the multiple entries were I describe women doing... stuff... ANYWAY, that's not important. What is important is that I am going to teach you about perversion.
Now, you're probably all familiar with the usual meaning of the word perversion, and it's many spin off words, like perverse. More than likely you call some of your friends perverted. Now that's all fine and good, but just because you think you already know a word doesn't mean that you're automatically going to pass the test (yes there will be a test later). We will be discussing something besides the normal perversion, we will instead be discussing the perversion of an idea.
Not really, I'm not nearly that clever. We'll just be talking about... or more correctly I'll be complaining about how the internet sucks, a lot. Before I can go into why this requires a short, about two sentence story where I explain how I came to this conclusion and yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda. Anyways, it was a favorite of mine to look for prospective Lemon Party candidates by searching for stupid things through the interest function. I looked through poems, stories, sex, vampires, punk, lavigne... and all sorts of good shit, ya? Now recently I've had some sort of strange thing where if I can't think of anything to say, I say "OMG hat." It's worked quite well for me for the past few days, and I thought that it would continue to work well for me.
W-R-O-N-G wrong, damn was I wrong. Searching for hat (more specifically hats) doesn't come up with multiple whimsical communities based on what hats look good or whatnot (which I would have found very amusing and featured on Lemon Party commending them), I instead found all sorts of communities about hussies, and whores, and punks, and oh god it's terrible. You should go look for yourself.
So what does this have to do with perversion of an idea? Well, I'll tell you. What sort of world do we live in when a man can search for such a decent and pure thing and get only garbage. What sort of world is this where hats, the building blocks of life aren't celebrated, they're perverted in communities full of tramps and hussies. What kind of world do we live in where I can't search for communities about hats, and not find communities about hats?
I'll tell you: a pretty damn scary one.
Damn you Interwebnation Superhighway, damn you and your transportation of ideas to the masses.
You've won the battle... but the war is still going on. Remain vigilant humble readers, and always ALWAYS remember what you're fighting for.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Proper in and Improper (etc)
So you may be wondering what was up with last week. Not only were there far fewer than the usual number of updates, but we also neglected to holiday themed ones. Well there is an explanation. And it's not that I'm a lazy bitch! Really! You see I am of Semitic ancestry: to whit, a Jew. And as my Jewish heritage is rather stringent in certain respects I, along with young turtle_07, have been forced to leave my lemon stations and take up a task of deep significance. Last friday we set out to kill your savior, and did we ever! It was because of this duty that we "passed over" our Lemon Party duties temporarily. But worry not, we're back and better than ever this week.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Wow, I never get tired of doing that. Of course I'm not really finished though. I'd like to continue to write things that apply to the title. I know, I know, that's pretty weird for Lemon Party, but I'm going to do it anyway. Let me talk to you about costumes, specifically about animal-type costumes. These costumes have one use and one use alone. That use is, surprisingly enough (not surprisingly), as Halloween (Hallowe’en) costumes. Using them at any other time is an inappropriate use. But not really a big deal. I mean there's a fair number of reasons for wearing costumes, many of which are at least somewhat valid. The real problem comes when you identify with your costume. It's a costume for Chrissake, not an identity. You think Spiderman (Spider-man) is Spiderman (Spider-man) just because he wears that spandex suit? It's because he was bitten by a fucking radioactive spider. Not because he thinks he's really a spider, not because he wants to make sweet sweet loving to spiders. Not because his mother was a spider. HE WAS FUCKING BITTEN BY A RADIOACTIVE SPIDER AND BESIDES WHICH, IT'S A FUCKING COMIC BOOK; IT'S NOT FUCKING REAL.
In case you haven't yet
figured
out what I'm driving at, I'm talking 'bout Shaft. Just kidding. Actually it's furries.
You would not believe how fucking many of them are out there. And that's really where the problem lies. If there was just one it wouldn't be able to reproduce and it would just die out; its perversion extinguished. But because they're so prevalent, and because they have developed underground name recognition, it's almost become chic to be the waste of space that is a furry. They draw support from each other. They constantly reassure each that it's okay, that they're not freaks. That it's perfectly natural to think you're a dog and desperate to fuck alligators. Well it's not. Duh. Furries are sick fucks who simply need to catch up to reality. Reality is where you face reality, and stop pretending to be a racoon. We all know that's all it is. These are the fucktards who never had any friends because they were so inept at interpersonal relations. They're so desperate for attention that they sink to these depths. They're deluding themselves into thinking what they're doing is a valid expression. They need to be placed in small cages in asylums or simply executed. I lean towards the latter. Perhaps this to impersonal for you. Here we have a specific example to bring it home for you. Here. All right backstory time. This looks like an angsty, pimply teenager, rebelling for the hell of it. Rebelling poorly, rebelling with fur. But nope. Not true. This is a thirty year old. A THIRTY YEAR OLD LIVING IN HIS PARENTS' BASEMENT. IN HIS PARENTS' BASEMENT! IN HIS PARENTS' BASEMENT! THIRTY! BASEMENT! THIRTY!
And his friends tell him he's fine, that he's justified, that he's not one of the single most pathetic individuals on the planet. He has taken the uncommon kindness of his parents and used to put masturbate to dirty pictures of cartoon animals. And when his father, justifiably upset upon discovering the idiocy, strikes out ever so viciously (not viciously) by writing the word sick on one of our furry faggot's bizarre sexual drawings our fucked up "racoon" feels "RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION." Fucking unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable. So a here's a commandment especially for the punk/scene/indie/goth/straightedge/alternative and the furries and the plushies and the scat swapers:
There Is No Such Thing as an Internet Subculture. Just Freaks.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Monday, April 12, 2004
Beep
It appears my fellow bloggers, that we are at an impasse. While my hate is pure, undulated, and terrible, it would appear that you are also full of rage. My hatred burns with that of a thousand suns, it exists only as a metaphysical concept because the laws of reality could not support the amount of hatred that I feel for blogging, for those sub-humans who feel the need to haunt my dreams with their shitty lives. Spreading to the entire internet the pathetic whiney angst that they feel every single day because a girl didn't smile at them or some bullshit. OH OH MY GOD MY LIFE IS OVER!! OH SNOSSOSOSOSOSOSOSO (I CAN'T SPELL I'M SO ANGRY!!!). But it would appear ladies and gentlemen, that I have been beaten. Truly today is a sad day for The Party.
I know that I say that every other day is a sad day for The Party, but today I actually mean it. Seriously folks, I'm like totally crying here. Well... not really. In fact I'm not even sure what the hell I'm doing or what I'm writing about. At the moment, my life revolves around one cosmic truth that if I should ever begin to doubt, reality would unravel. My life revolves around the fact that I have a half eaten chocolate cake downstairs, and that when I finish writing this I am going to go have a slice. Possibly before, as I tend to get bored and confused easily.
Before you try and condemn me for the life that I have chosen, please try and see my side of the story. My existence is not sorry or sad, in fact it is happy and on par with a religion. See people praying to God for things while they can't see him but believe that he exists because a book and their parents said so. They don't know if these being exists, and I don't know if that cake still exists. The last time they saw God was over 2 thousand years ago. The last time I saw the cake was probably about 2 hours ago. Unlike them however, I will (hopefully) gain absolution in the next hour, while they will wait their entire lives and never know until they're dead. I'd say that my life is better than theirs.
So for the sake of those people who I have convinced, I've convinced you. There's some half eaten foodstuff in another part of your house, condo, dorm, cave, or morgue that you wonder if it's still good or if it hasn't been eaten by your no good lazy room-mate/brother/half-brother/sister/half-sister/parent/step-parent/dog/cat/mongoose/professional bodybuilder and you're wondering how you (you) would get started? It's really quite simple, and much like those who believe in god, your life is based around a series of assumptions.
Assumption 1: The Foodstuff has yet to be eaten
This is kind of self explanatory, you can't base your life around something that doesn't exist, and you certainly can't base your life around a concrete truth. That's just stupid.
Assumption 2: The Foodstuff is still fresh and delicious
No one wants to eat something that doesn't taste good and/or is swarming with bacteria.
Assumption 3: I am bored of writing this update and I'm going to go eat some of that cake now
I bet it's still delicious. Oh man was that good, and it was flourless too, cause it's Passover. I mean it's like pure chocolate... man that was good.
Assumption 4: I've run out of assumptions to make
This pseudo-religion sucks.
That totally sucked, and now I feel that I've taken your souls and instead of giving you a fabulous wish that I perverted into something horrible, I just sorta stared at you and went:
"Yea, ok sure. By the way, do you have a pencil on you? I need to write something down."
I'm sorry.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
>=[
I thought that I'd break the Lemon Party tradition and post a little bit about my personal life for all of you to laugh and mock me. This segment I have entitled: The Horrors of Linux.
Ahh linux... in case you're not familiar with linux it's based off of unix. In case you're not familiar with unix, it's like Windows and the Mac OS had a child who then genetically modified his DNA to not be anything like Windows or the Mac OS (which is actually not true, as OSX has unix underpinnings... anyway, shut up). Now that you know what linux us, there is one important difference about it. Well, two. The first being that Linux is open source, which basically means that you can really fuck things up if you're not careful. The second is that it's free.
What's this you say? A free operating system, too good to be troo (true). But in fact it is not only free, but also free. There's a lot more I could say about linux, but you probably wouldn't understand any of it. Needless to say I've been trying to get a decent linux box up and running. I believe the current count for how many times I've installed (or reinstalled) an OS is about 12. There are very good reasons behind it, but I just thought that I'd let you all know what sort of troubles I'm having, because I'm sure that you all care about me. Anyways, now that that's said, we can move onto the real update, where I probably call you a mongloid no less than four times.
But what am I? And where are we going? These two questions will be answered in the next sentence.
I am Napoleon, and we're going to hell in a hand basket. A nice one, with leather seats and a minibar. Now that's what I call traveling to hell in style. Hell of course isn't a psychical place, not like your bedroom or your TV is physical. No, hell is a bit different. Hell you see, is a state of mind. A really fucked up state of mind where demons torture you anally for the rest of your natural and undead life. Man are you fucked d00d.
The anal rapage brings me to my next and current point in this update: I hate blogs. Although what I hate more than blogs, are communities of blogs. And what I hate more than communities of blogs are communities of blogs that are stupid as all fuck.
I also hate you.
I'm glad that we had this talk.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Monday, April 05, 2004
This update is not about scatman (for once)
So, you've been to school for a year or two and you probably think... no... you probably just know that you've seen it. In daddy's car thinking you'll go far no less, I tell you what, back east your type wouldn't crawl. Yea, fine, whatever, play that ethnicky jazz to parade your snazz on your what? Probably 5 grand stereo, braggin that you know how the niggers feel cold. Oh, and I bet that to you the slums got so much soul. God do you make me sick.
I mean, that's probably the way that you live your life, thinking that you're soooo cooooooool (extra Os added for posterity, no seriously). Well lemme tell you something bub (I feel like wolverine when I say that, cause he says bub, except that I'm not strong :( :( >=[ ), you ain't cool, and you certainly still need to stay in school, yea, it's that bad. But not to worry, lucky for you I'm here, and unlucky for me, I'm here (bet you didn't see that coming).
At this point you may have noticed that I used parentheses three times in the last paragraph, so for the sake of posterity (yea, seriously, I'm totally not joking. Totally) I will type the next two sentences in parentheses. (Woooo this sentence totally rocks, but it'll probably be less rocking than the next sentence. Man, does THIS sentence rock... alot... dog)
As I was saying, and so that it coincides with my previous section, I'm here to teach you how to make an entry so ass kicking, and sooooo (posterity) rocking that woman will be forced to love you, and if you're a woman, men will be forced to... ha, joke, no one forces men to do anything. NOW GET IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN. Anyways lets talk about how to make your entry so kickin, so rockin, that it won't matter that you're a total dullard and your entries are retarded.
Unlike my previous updates, this is a few step process, and for the sake of simplicity we'll deal with an entry that I got off a real live livejournal. This gem was taken off of this journal. Let's take a look
i think i'm in love...
with winmx.
how did i ever survive without it?! all day i've been downloading songs - sure it takes ages but its worth it. i haven't even looked at schoolwork all weekend but hey - theres always tomorrow :P
That's not very rocking at all. In fact, it's so not rocking that I have to grade it an F, for FAILURE TO ROCK. Fuck that shit, this update needs to be totally rocked out, right? RIGHT? So anyways, I totally rocked it out, you'll notice that my changes are bolded.
i think i'm totally in love...
with winmx.
how did i ever survive without it?! all day i've totally been downloading songs - sure it totally takes ages but its worth it. i haven't even looked at schoolwork all weekend but hey - theres always tomorrow :P
Notice how much more rocking that is? Yea, not very. This update was in desperate need for some hard, fast, and hot rockomation, and rockomation isn't just a one step process. For the sake of your puny minds this will be a three step process, where it won't be up to its full rocking potential, but it won't be lacking the rock hardness of some rocking hard abs, you dig? These next changes are in italic.
i think i'm totally in love...
with winmx. it really rocks
how did i ever survive without it?! all day i've totally been downloading rocking songs - sure it totally takes ages but its worth it for posterity. i haven't even looked at schoolwork all weekend but hey - theres always tomorrow :P
that's right, i'm so totally rockingly cool that i'm going to fail school
Sizzle sizzle little rocking essay, you're pretty damn rocking now. Notice how the words totally and rocking totally make that rocking piece, daaaamn. Anyway, to finish this rocking piece (not actually that rocking, there's a lot more that could be done) I'll add a few ending touches. This is usually added at the end of all other steps, but as this is the last step that I'm going to do finish it up. My changes will be in the typewriter font.
i think i'm totally in love...
with winmx. it really rocks
how did i ever survive without it?! all day i've totally been downloading rocking songs - sure it totally takes ages but its worth it for posterity. i haven't even looked at schoolwork all weekend but hey - theres always tomorrow :P
that's right, i'm so totally rockingly cool that i'm going to fail school
I'm out ya'll, ROCK ON
And there you have it, a few simple steps later and this piece is on its way to rocking history. If any of you would like to rock out this piece more feel free to show me your results in the comments box, and until then this is Andrew "turtle_07" (LAST NAME DELETED FOR POSTERITY), and I'm totally rocking my way out of here.
Peace out ya'll.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Frankly my dear, I just don't give a damn
There's something that's been pissing me off for a long time, so let's be Frank for a moment, ok?
Today, I woke up. Yea, I realize that's not very exciting but hell, it was what happened. So after waking up I went to bathroom that I have to share with my sister and OF COURSE she was totally in there doing her hair or whatever bullshit she does for three hours before school. After alot of screaming and shit she finally left the bathroom and so of course I find like all of her leg her clogging up the shower drain and she used up the last of the toothpaste. What a fucking bitch.
Yea, so after pulling out my pocket knife and cutting open up the toothpaste container I scraped what was left onto my toothbrush and brushed my teeth, all the while hoping that it would be good enough and the girls wouldn't think that I was gross. I had been planning for the entire week and damned if I would let my sister ruin this for me. Yea right, she fucked up pretty badly for me, but that's later on.
So I like totally almost miss the bus and all the kids are laughing at me, which just pisses me off more. GIVE ME A REASON TO PULL OUT MY KNIFE AND KILL YOU ALL!! GIMME A FUCKING REASON! I DARE YOU! But no one did, so that was cool too I guess. I mean the bus ride was like it normally was, I just sorta sat there in silence until I noticed that Sharon was like totally sitting in front of me. So I'm like about to say hi and stuff but then the bus ride is over and we all rush off to our classes.
Classes were boring, as usual. But luckily I got some free time with Sharon and I'm like totally about to ask her out when she goes "What the hell is that smell?" OMG it was my teeth, fuck my bullshit sister. Well at least she didn't realize it was me, she blamed the trashcan nearby and when we moved and I was about to talk to her again she had to go to vollyball practice. Fucking bullshit, if my teeth smelled ok I woulda had like 20 more seconds when I coulda asked her out and she totally would have had my babies. Totally.
Yea, so like totally the rest of the day sucked. I spent the entire time thinking about Sharon and her sweet ass booty so that my teacher got pissed and made me stand in the hall. And then i got soaked on the way to the bus and it fucking sucked. And now i'm writing this update and my mom is yelling at me. I have to go to the doctor because they think that there might be something wrong with me, I dunno what though yet but my mom is like totally making this huge deal out of it.
I'm out.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.