Master Toad:"I hope you have your keys on you."
Is done. I took apart the darn thing and cleaned the lens and it still won't work. I was looking up some helpful shite and I found all these sites that explain how to mod your xbox. Clear cases, LED lights, and all that. Oh well, I did beat Mercenaries after all...(One of the reasons I wasn't posting much in the last weeks. I'm making up for it by designing an even more kick-ass Main Page.
Some random weirdness to fill in a lull in the area of specific weirdness:
Check our the rims on this Golf Cart. Maybe I'm related.
Also, check out the walls in the dude's garage. Man knows how to spend his dough. You can't take it with you. They tipped me 8 bucks on 3 pizzas. nice.
This is Brian. He may be the Biggest Badass ever to work in a pizzeria.
Ladies, I hear he's single. (Just for the record, Brian posed for these shots. In all reality, he's just some normal dude.) Ladies...
You may have never played Pocket Tanks before...
But trust me, this is not normal. The result of a Dome Protect/Jump Jets combo.
BTW, if indeed, you have not tried pocket tanks, I'd suggest it. There's a fully functional demo for free to download from Blitwise.
Lastly, for now, I know I said it was dead, but much like Steven Segal, You just can't get rid of them:
(The response to this amazing work of Genius? A disgusted, 15 year old female "You're SO weird!")
My work here is done.
AMF
I once asked Kilgor why the hero in Vanishing Point did what he did.
For all those who want me to post more (I know, you're all nice enough not to say anything) SUCK IT! I've been busy with web shite and um, other stuff and the news of Hunter's death is really bothering me, an dthere's not much else to friggin' say right now, okay?
Just kidding. I like other people's blogs, they make me happy. Like Mimi Smartypants, or George! I even think I found the infamous Maddox's Blog. It's here, to make the links less confusing. I guess he's not a pirate anymore, but I still am! Look at his profile, if you can find it in his crappy layout. his picture makes him look like a gurl! Pretty eyes though...[not]
I'm pretty much dropping the message cup thing. You can get to the gallery here. It's also under stuff I did, and Archives. I dunno. There might be more, but I'm not making it a regular thing. Even the guy from Spamusement is slackin...I've done a little work around the site too. redid Kimba's Masthead, uploaded my Flickr account. Next: My masthead. Think Pirates!
Okay, I'm going to try to be charmingly specific about what happened at Buffalo Wild Wings saturday night, so that the google adsense robots will hopefully change the ad at the side of my page. Johan, Jimmy and Joel ( yes, all the names start with a J, even the made up ones) went to Buffalo Wild Wings after they got off work at a resturaunt on Saturday. BWW basically a sports bar specializing in chicken wings. Fried chicken wings. Chicken wings with hot sauce on them. They actually have twelve different "signature sauces" with which to cover your chicken wings. I am a freid chicken wing freak. I love fried chicken wings in hot sauce. Okay, enough of that crap, I'm telling a story over here.
He's dead. He shot himself in the head. Another one of my personal heroes gone. I'm not going to change the button on top of my page, because the bastard shot himself.
Getting busted by the cops after taking your last delivery (twice, because the address was wrong, Brian) for an illegal lane change and $8oo worth of other bullshit is annoying... but seeing the Bandit take it to the smokies is at least a comfort. That and the Rum. And what the cops didn't confiscate. I'll tell the story, maybe, on my death bed.
Dooce has changed her masthead. Again. That's in as many months. Which is good, I change ours every month. For the main site. you think I'm going to do 3 a month? these are quality mastheads, people. I'll have a new one for Kimba soon hopefully, and I think Fussy inspired me to redo mine, with a theme. Spades night is ON! And I'm going to golf now. All are invited be there by 3:30, we'll be there at 4pm.
I heard that in order to be an artist you need to go to school. To be famous, like DaVinci, Rembrant, and the like. Well, in typical 704d style I say...(all together)...FUCK THAT! Who taught DaVinci, anyways? What did they even have to teach back then? Crop rotation? Physics? Rennaissance theory? We did talk a little about education at the bar tonite. I came to the conclusion of 2 things: 1, I do not need to go to school to be taught. I am a student of life, and if I can recognize the importance of learning something, then I can teach it to my damn self. Hello, internet. This is my website. I created it, maintain it, and have done all of it without any technical schooling. The other one...(well I was at the bar, hold on...)2, um...something about continued education as a means of avoiding a real job, or something. hell, make up your own No.2, I don't care. Assuming that I don't meet anyone famous, I will never feel inferior to anyone else ever again.
I don't know what the hell is wrong with my airbrush. It has a stutter in the emission, like someone the lights on and off. I had to return the wireless remote that I rigged up to make last months insurance payment. I don't care, since I cannot use the damn thing anyway. It seems to be the compressor, but I don't know anyone that has one, save Phil at the shop. We all know that ain't going to happen. Man, I'm pissed.
A little backstory: Back in the day on a show called Liquid Television there was a short called postcards from the edge, or something like that. It showed all these bizarre photos and had the voice of a seriel killer narating. He sounded like a serial killer anyway. I've got some photos from the weekend, but I have long forgot what the hell really happened. So I'm just going to make something up. Without further ado...
Ran into an old friend.
She said we had to make a delivery:
So we stole a truck.
We found our contact,
But had trouble with the bodyguard.
So I created a distraction
Made the drop.
She stayed behind to erase their memories.
So I left.
I visited the cat lady, but she was asleep.
So I stole her newspaper.
The end?
I just woke up from a horrible nightmare. I had gone back to work with my former employer after he talked me into just making a delivery one day. WE worked in the basement of my old house instead of the shop. It took all of five minutes before he renigged on his word and had me do a bunch of stupid shit. And he wanted me to silk screen a bunch of photocopies. Why? he didn't want to spen money at a printer. So instead of paying 10 cents a copy, wh was paying like 2.00. THat prompted a screaming match wherein My mother showed up and I began cussing at her. Realizing this was not normal, I proceded to wake up and THANK GOD (after a minute of where the hell am I ) That I don't actually work there anymore. One day the post traumatic stress will be gone as well. I hope. I'm going back to bed.
has there ever been a movie that moved you to tears? Think for a second or two. I...I remember crying during Mel Gibson's "We Were Soldiers", but I was drunk, so that doesn't count.
Yesterday I spent my day off playing disc golf with my friends and generally slacking off. Played some GTA, drank some beer and whiskey, and the like. I fully enjoyed it. One of the games we play at disc golf to divert our attention from what we should be doing is called the Battle Box. Here are some pictures of golf and THE BOX. They're from last year. Basically you square off in the box, shake hands, and the person who stays in wins. It's a mixture of grappling, Sumo, and good old American football. The rules are simple. Initiate a handshake, and upon release, go at it. You cannot place a knee on the ground for leverage, and there is no striking, biting, or gouging. Just push the other guy out of the box. Or throw him. Or fling him. Or whatever.
I had a dream last night or this morning or whatever. I was sick, but I was dead tired. The kind of tired that you would rather pee in your own bed rather than get up kind of tired. (For the record, that is how I felt in the dream, not EVER in real life.) so I went to the toilet, and hurled. I hurled like I never hurled before. But I was so sick that I didn't have the strength to get up out of the toilet. So every time the bowl filled up I started to drown and had to hold my breath, over and over. Between breaths, I reasoned how long I could do this for, How I could keep it from happening again, and hjow long it was going to be until I gave up and sucked water.
SO I'm sure you have noticed the google ads. I haven't sold out totally. Google said that I can keep doing what I do, and they'll try to help support me in their way.
