Who here knows how to set a mood?

Madcap with These Old Feelings does!
Well gents here goes nothing.
I started my photo album today because I demanded taking pictures in a photo booth at the mall. On that page I flattened a flower that was in the vase on my kitchen counter. While looking for heavy things to flatten it down I stumbled upon my Sophomore yearbook.
Let me tell you there's nothing that can make you remember good times like a good signing in a yearbook. I got to reading all the comments. Ya know, from the people that sign awkwardly and just write something cliche like "See you next year..." or "Have a good summer", from the people who are trying desperately hard to be your friend and write things like "OMG so I'm so glad I met you this year, really. Let's hang out over summer! Keep in touch! Text me! My number is 602-plz-call", then there's writing that are at least a page long of all tiny hand writing from your best friends. The ones where all the sentences start with "Dude do you remember that time when..." or "I can't believe when you..."

And that's when it really hit me.
Fuck the people that couldn't easily write me a novel of our adventures. The only people that can pull that shit off are real friends, the kind that can look at you and have conversation without opening their mouths, the kind that have the parents that just expect you to be at their house, the kind that you can dance in front of just as comfortably as if you were alone. THAT is real goddamn friendship people. Fuck the party friends that only know the drunk you. Fuck the people that you have to ask a month in advance to hang out with. Fuck the people that don't even want to be your friend. That shit doesn't matter. And I'm gonna remember that from now on. I'm gonna make things the way they always should've been. Me, my best friend, our dream, and some crazy shit inbetween.

God it feels good to say that.
Well that's all I've got.

Peace out home boy...that's what I always say.
-B.M.

Captain's Log.

DECEMBER 24TH, 2009

3: 47 P.M. My mom didn’t seem to appreciate the humor in the kill list on my wall. I don’t think I’ll ever understand people.

3:51 P.M. The parents are wrapping my gifts, leaving me stuck in this god-forsaken room, with the taste of spinach-crab dip lingering in my mouth. My phone is broken and Myspace is stupid. You’re all by yourself on this one, chief.

3:54 P.M. My room isn’t god forsaken. I was joking. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to look at one of my walls without getting aroused.

3:55 P.M. I am now looking at my wall. I can’t stop. Assume we are in a hypothetical scenario where I belonged to male gender: my penis would most certainly not be limp.

3:59 P.M. I kind of have to go to the bathroom.

4:00 P.M. Pardon my French, but Vanilla Coke rocks my shit.

4:02 P.M. Holy shit, this is boring. Internet gets old really fast.

4:03 P.M. I’m going to read some Dearly Devoted Dexter.

4:11 P.M. The atmosphere of my room is rather gloomy for reading. The lighting is just never right. It’s mildly frustrating. Regardless: Off to read another chapter!

4:17 P.M. Mother just left to Block Buster. She’s renting Inglorious Bastards. Well, ah rumpa pum pum.

4:24 P.M. Demented, but just what the doctor ordered.

4:31 P.M. Whoever taught dogs how to push open doors was a real asshole.

4:33 P.M. The next time I find myself in an awkward situation, where I’m required to fake human emotion and empathy in order to comfort a poor, helpless, distraught, whimpering victim…I’m just going to pat them on the back, say “there, there”, and hope that’s enough to shut them up.

4:38 P.M. Father informed me that I am now free to leave my room—a glorious moment.

4:39 P.M. Sidewinder out.

I Think Death is Least Funny When it Happens to a Child.

"I can't relate to 99% of humanity."

Oh Steve... you always know what to do; you've stolen my heart, Mr. Buscemi.

Pardon me for straying off my original topic, nevertheless: I'm not homicidal yet, but I'm getting there. You may want to alert the proper authorities.

Hugs, kisses, and broken fingers,

Sidewinder

This Anti-drug poster...

just makes me wish I was high.

I'm in a group with all the people in my class that couldn't even care less what my name is or what my opinions are so why am I out here?
I really shouldn't be.
I fucking hate being forced to work in groups when I could do this myself in five minutes.
Instead i have to listen to these jackasses and their ridiculous suggestions.
Fuck these kids.

p.s. two days before Thanksgiving. Not excited.
The only point of that holiday is to see if you can gain more weight from the dinner than you did last year and the year before.

Frankly I'm about to shove my shoe up this one kids ass. He needs to stop talking before I do something awful in front of all these people.

I just got appraoched by "the black man".
This makes me hate myself.
I wish I didn't just see almost the entire ass of the large black chick in my class.
This day is just going down hill more n more by the second.

God I wish I could still get away with ditching. I'm highly against the idea of playing jeopardy next period. Fuck that game. It's ugly and I don't want it anymore.

Remember when games in school were actually fun?
Now I just want to get my work and get through it without anybody bothering me.
Is that too much to ask?

Well guys....fuck this.

kbai
xoxo
B.M.

It's A Cockamouse And It's The Size Of A Potato.

“Since you been gone, I can breath for the first time…” That’s going to be stuck in my head all day. Hello, Mr. Snooze button! Shall I hit thee thrice? Nay, perhaps another day. Muffins are awesome. Oh my god, I missed you…wait never mind. To straighten or not to straighten? I’ll go both ways. What is that Calculus book doing there? Oh my god, that dogs retarded. Jacket season! I would be so upset if I gave my dad a stroke, but god do I love ghosts. British accents are the best. You do the work; I have no fucking idea what’s going on. Private lessons? For me? You shouldn’t have. I swear to God, you’re like his doppelganger. It is kind of a disruption to my learning. It’s called a razor; use it. I’d hit that. Maybe if I looked super pissed, he’d avoid me. Mission accomplished. I don’t understand 3.5! It makes no sense! You definitely don’t match today! That is unacceptable terminology for a penis! Taco! I can think of several reasons why this whole situation is ironic, and frankly it makes me sick. Hello Mr. Math Teacher, I don’t mean to give you the wrong idea, but every time I see you I kind of want to rip off my clothes. Did that come out wrong? What I was trying to say is that I’d really like to have sex with you. Everyone thinks you’re pretty intelligent; you’re really not. She looks like she should go to Europe. Happy Birthday! Oh my God, cupcakes! Woo! You’re not a bad ass if you dye your hair with temporary colored spray, asshole. I got my locker combo down so good! I feel like such a big kid at this moment. Thank god, she doesn’t have her book. Reagan! Viva la Reagan! The Compromise of 1850 took place in 1850. That was definitely not one of my more proud moments. You're kinda cute. Oh god, what are you going to make us do? I hate the Jonas Brothers! I love Sponge Bob! May I recommend that you stow your balls securely in an overhead compartments; it’s going to be a bumpy ride. Spoiler alert: she keeps a mighty tight leash. Wait…it’s more fun to watch the forest burn down than to stop it when it poses no threat. I’m so glad that I didn’t get stuck with retards. Grand Theft Auto: Civil War style? I hate giving out my number to people. That’s a weird area code. Chuck is cool, but Clint dominates all. Why do I even bother talking? Thank you for ignoring me, bitch. Expensive t-shirts! Back scratching orgy? I won’t even ask. You did what in where? That band isn’t even that good. Patty cake? Don’t mind if I do! Stop ignoring me! Car ride! It isn’t necessary for you all to talk to me like I’m a person. I got the message a long time ago. It will never happen. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole. Look at me getting into this car. This song blows. I think I'm going to run! Multi-tasker of the year award: reading, running, and listening to music. High five. You’re friend sounds amazing, Mr. Asshole. My legs hurt. Shut up. Hey guys. Time to reward myself. I know all of these cans contain the same amount of liquid, but I like being picky sometimes. Mountain Dew is so good. I do declare that this is so delightfully chilly that it nearly burns the throat. Take a bow, Mr. Most Refreshing Beverage Ever. Homework? More like play now work later! Fail the test. I don’t give a fuck! I would do that guy. I would do him so much and so hard…he’s so amazing…wait, better keep the thoughts rated PG around the family. I’m sure the major personality clashes won’t affect you at all…you know so little. He is going to be so mad. Shit! I spelt rowdy wrong. Rowdy? Seriously, how did I not get that wrong? That’s like spelling orange like basjfkt. That may definitely cost me. Do I seem upset? I am really not. To be completely honest, I’ve always liked you best. Back hurts. Blog! Blog! Blogggg!

And that, my friends, is the daily mind process of a genius.

Good-bye,

Sidewinder

You're Like Some Type Of Cock-Blocking Robot Developed In Some Secret Fucking Government Lab.

P-a-r-t-y? 'Cause I gotta.

This Weekend. Saturday. Party. My House. Hell yes.

Starts at: 8:30 P.M.

Ends at: ???? (except you need to be gone when the clock strikes midnight, because that's when my parents come home.)

It's going to be a riot. I finished my homework, so I have plenty of time (for you, that is). I got a six-pack of near beer in the fridge that's screaming our names. In addition to that, my mom went grocery shopping a few days ago, so there is no shortage in the delicious snacks category. But we can't enjoy our beverages and snacks outside of the kitchen. The couches are leather and our carpets just got cleaned.

And once we are finished with that maybe we can turn the "wild n crazy" knob up a notch and watch a PG-13 motion picture. Normally (being the bad ass MC, that you know I am) I would dive straight into a Rated R feature, but I still can't figure out the password to the parental lock yet.

I also made a few conversation cards, so you know things won't get dull. Speaking of which: where do you stand on H1N1 vaccinations? Oh, yeahhh.

I'll make a point to pull out the games from the hallway closet. Parcheesi anyone? Perhaps Trivial Pursuit? Or maybe even Scrabble? Though I feel obligated to warn you, I'm quite the Scrabble champion. But who knows, maybe I'll let you use proper nouns, acronyms, and abbreviations. Oh, our mothers would not approve of this. But don't you fret about the 'rents. Craig and Deborah have made prior engagements.

I know we've only known each other for two and a half years, but how do you feel about letting out your wild child and... holding hands? Just to clarify myself, I was talking about my hands. Don't worry; they're clean. You're reputation won't be tarnished. My lips are sealed like an envelope. And the only one home is my bro. But it's cool, he won't snitch. Bird of the feather flock together, I always say.

Be there or be square, silly goose. Thinking of you forever and always. Just kidding...I think. Please come. Don't let me down. I'm not pressuring you. Can't wait to see you tonight, if you come. It'll be so much fun... you know, if you come. If you don't come, it's okay. I understand and will respect you, regardless of your decision. It's not like I'll cry or anything, because I definitely don't do that anymore. I have other friends. You're not my only love interest, don't flatter yourself. It's not like I've been writing our names together since the 2nd grade or anything. But seriously, you should come. It won't be the same without you... not like I'm pressuring you or anything. But if you don't come, I might kill myself. Haha. Just kidding. I'm not suicidal. Or am I? Haha, that was another joke again. I'm so lonely. I mean, I have so many friends. You're not the only one that I invited. Okay, so...you're really pretty. XOXO.

Sidewinder

I'll Have A Margarita. Well Hey There Ms. Money Pussy, Wanna Jump On My Jet Pack?

Hello, my darling. You look lovely in that evening gown. Is that a Russian accent I detect? How would you like to come back to my room? We can sip fine wine and make love by the fire. I have wit, charm, and I’m devilishly handsome. I know you get yourself into some risky business, but don’t be alarmed. You’re safe with me. I got a license to kill, and if anyone messes with you, I’ll blow their brains away with my Walter PPK. Let’s drive away in my Aston Martin, and cruise throughout Britain. You’ll love it there.

Let’s stop games--we both know that neither of us our the person we claim to be. You’re using me for information, and MI6 and I have known that all along. We know everything about you. You see me as nothing more than business, or at least you use to. In the end, you’ll switch sides. You’ll be seduced by my irresistible charm.

Remember that night in the casino, my love? I pretended that you were the most interesting girl in the room, but darling, you’re just another girl in another city. There’s been plenty before you and there will most certainly be plenty after you. But you know that, don’t you? Tell me, darling, does the danger turn you on?

And that's all I have to say about that.

Sidewinder

Homecoming Friday

Although the school spirit of this day makes me sick beyond all belief. It's going well. I just got a snickers for being "creative". LIKA BOSS!

I just lied to this white kid's face that he did a good job rapping at the assembly. I almost lost it.
Sidewinder and I blocked out the sounds of the cheerleaders and "urban dancers" with MASS amounts of MCR.
I must say watching a pep rally while listening to "Teenagers" and "I'm Not Okay" can really make a day special. I basically came. A lot.

Then i basically BONED this hotbod in the taco line but found out he was a sophomore. I was dissappointed to say the least. Fuck em.

p.s. There's a garfield poster above this computer that says "I'm not over weight I'm under tall"
This is spectacular.

Classes are being cut short for a parade at the end of the day. I refuse to go. You can't make me. I'd rather die getting over that chain link fence then watch a homecoming parade. kthx.

I HAS GUMMM!!!

kbai

B.M.

BOXER BREIFS!!!!

I'm in the library once again.
I just came.

So there's this kid in my class we'll call him Carl.
I can't decide whether he's gay or not and to be honest, it's upsetting.
Fuck anatomy sooo much.

I'm terrified.
Fuck the chick who took my normal seat. bitch.

"Imma work at KFC!"

I'm in school right now.

[Insert antonio banderas here.]

There's a girl near me..let's call her Stacy.
kShe has a permanent stink eye face and she's making our power point in pink sparkles.
Needless to say, I am upset.
There's also some douche named David.
I hate em.
And I hope he reads this.
jk?
Let's talk about another girl.
We'll call her Chantey.
She has the worsr orange tan I have ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on.
I hope she dies tonight.
One chick...."lemongello" stares at me for two classes like im a monster. It makes me laugh.
Bobby asked me if I was a vampire yesterday.
I hissed at him.
I don not understand people'es attraction to my teacher nobody EVER beats the couple in the math department.
NEVER EVER.
If Victoria says one more think about dying chicks I'm killing them in front of her.
I went to a sleepover when I was an itty bitty with a few of these girls.
Most of them cried.
I laughed.

To be continued.

Fucking Albert Chung.

Brace yourself, my friends, for you are about to be informed.

The following information you are about to receive is facts. True facts. Not your standard, typical everyday nonfactual factoids. (I will like to remind you that nonfactual factoids are completely different that lies; lies are not facts.)

Most people are unaware of this unusual phenomenon, known as "wall people." Wall people are people, who (and stay with me here)... live in walls. It's a tough concept to grasp, I know.

Now, some of you may be aware of the wall people's existence in this world, but you don't know all the facts... the true facts...

Eleven True Facts Everyone Should Know About Wall People

1.) Wall people want to kill you. They don't take to kindly to adults... at all. They want you dead, like... super hardcore.

2.) Wall people love children. They have the tendency to kidnap small children, tie their hands and feet together, store them beneath the floor boards, feed the child rats, and then while the child is in captivity, they try killing the child's loved ones (this means you!) ...wall people missed the lesson on how to appropriately express fondness and affection.

3.) Wall people come out from the walls at night, usually from hidden doors in the closet.

4.) Wall people are masters of disguise. They often make people think they are dogs. They are not dogs, but they will lick your hand.

5.) Wall people are probably going to kill your dog and brother-in-law. It's just what they do.

6.) Putting salt on the floor does not stop the wall people from attacking you, however it does momentarily confuse them.

7.) Wall people have built-in night vision.

8.) Wall people do not understand the English language well enough to speak it (so they communicate in crazy, jungle-people noises), however, they miraculously know how to write and spell. Did I mention they have excellent penmanship? It's a wall people thing.

9.) Wall people somehow managed to be amazing knife fighters. They are so good at it that a 17-year-old wall girl can take down a 30-year-old man, who has been frequently using a knife for his 70 years of existence (everything about that sentence makes sense; you're just too stupid to understand.)

10.) Wall people are kleptomaniacs.

11.) Wall people are the result of inbreeding. Don't fuck your sister, my dear children.

***

You have been informed! Use this information to your advantage.

So Long N Good Night,

Sidewider

Inspiration: A divine influence directly and immediately exerted upon the mind or soul.

I find myself asking, how much inspiration does it take for one to get off their ass and work towards their goals?
Too much is the answer to that question.

You would think if you have had life long dreams it wouldn't be so hard to put forth just enough effort to make even the slightest bit of progress.

Does it all click one day? Does it take something to push you off the edge of your boring reality and say "wake up! what are you doing with your life?" in order to even consider going for what really matters most?

Or is it that you're surrounded by people filled with doubt and dissapointment concerning the choices you have to make in your life?

There are a countless amount of people just sitting around waiting for something better.

Well you know what?
I don't want to be one of them.

-B.M.

There Will Be Dong.

Oh yes, there will be dong.

***

"If you have a dong and I have a dong, and I have a tongue and my tongue reaches across the room and starts to lick your dong--I lick your dong! I lick it up!"

***

For the past 12 days, 7 hours, and 18 minutes I have been thinking (or more appropriately, obsessing) about one thing and one thing only. What exactly may that be, you ask?

Irish dong.

Yes, you read right. Just 12 days, 7 hours, and now 19 minutes ago, I was introduced to perhaps one of the greatest movie of all dong. That's right: The Boondock Saints.

If you haven't seen it yet, it's just as great as everyone says it is. It has everything a movie could possibly offer: blood, guns, violence, transvestites, smelly Italians eating sandwiches, rope, catholics, passed out strippers, racist jokes, gays, overweight feminists, Tourettes Syndrome, Charlie Bronson references, and most importantly, two hot pieces of Irish dong.

Seriously, these two Irish guys are so big. I mean...it doesn't actually show their dong(unfortunately)...but it's one of those scenarios where they're so attractive and so beast at everything, that you can just tell they both have a really big penis. I mean, like, not Clint Eastwood big (no one is that gifted), but definitely bigger than Chuck Norris--and they don't have gross, red chest hair for Bruce Lee to pull, so it's a win-win for everyone...except Bruce Lee...he's dead...

But back to the moral of the story, if you plan on watching it with a friend, I suggest finding one that doesn't mind seeing you shake hands with Abe Lincoln, if you know what I mean *wink* *wink* (that was a masturbation reference). Brace yourself, because after you see this movie, all you are going to desire in life is DP from ID.

That's right: Double Penetration from Irish Dong.

*high five*

No, but seriously. You'll see this, and you'll think of huge shafts everywhere you go. Than the next time you order Chinese, you will forget all about the orange chicken, and you'll be like, "I'll have the Creme of Sum Yung Gui." (Did you catch the sexual innuendo?) You have been warned.

Anyways, I'm a generous blogger, so I gave you a sneak peak at the top of the post to show you what eye candy this movie offers. Get yo' spank on to that shit. Don't let me down.

Tag! You're It,

Sidewinder

Take me away before I ruin too much

I have come to the realization that most things just don't matter. And because of this, I've managed to become everything I never wanted to be.

So here I am smoking the same cigarettes that corrupted the person that became my biggest mistake, and the same cigarettes that taste like the craziest person I fell for. Wishing I was drinking the same alcohol that is slowly killing my life-wrecking mother, my favorite grandfather, and my best friend of a brother. The drink that he had one too many of and decided I wasn't worth being faithful to. The same poison that has made me sick to my core, destroyed my mind, and terrorized my every thought. Listening to the piano duet from the movie that reminds me of when everything was alright. Hoping that my best friend who would never have let this happen to me will put up with my shit just long enough for us to realize our dreams. Attempting to speak to the boy I fucked over because of my own denial and selfishness. Looking through my favorite books by the genius that hung himself because life is just too hard to get through. Wondering if someday I'll be able to write well enough for my thoughts to actually mean something. Knowing that I should be picking up my guitar instead of writing a paragraph that will never make a difference. Realizing it all comes down to choices and strength. And maybe...I'm just not strong enough.

Enough for now,
B.M.

These Schnozberries Taste Like Schnozberries

I could not help but notice how many of my fellow Americans are living a lie. They are raised in ignorance, and they are denied the information they have been questioning for years. If you have yet to figure out what I am referring to, it is the age-old question:

Is a tomato a fruit or a vegetable?

Many of you have tried to find the truth, and many of you have gotten an answer. But not the right one, my children. Oh, how you know so little! I am here to unveil the truth--and nothing but the truth. The government will not be happy with me releasing this information to you, and I guarantee that they will try to take me captive. But children, I can ensure you that Sidewinder will not be taken prisoner. Not now, nor ever. The fruit-vegetable conspiracy will hopefully be put to rest forever. 

According to scientists,  if it has seeds, then it is a fruit. What they neglected to teach you in school is this: scientists are in on the conspiracy. They are saying that not only is a tomato a vegetable, but pumpkins, avocados, squash, cucumbers, green beans, capsicum peppers and bell peppers are all fruit as well.

This is, but of course, a bunch of horseshit. I'm right. They're wrong. You shall now see why my logic is undeniable.

The truth is, what really makes a fruit a fruit comes down to a few reasons. The most important one is this: Would you put it in a smoothie? If the answer is yes, then it is most certainly a fruit. If no, well then, you have a vegetable on your hands.

For example, I know that I would never gulp down a strawberry-tomato smoothie. It would be repulsive, and chances are, it would more than likely taste like Grandma. And unless I am in Cuba, I would never consume such a beverage.

The second way to determine if it is a fruit or not, is this: Would you put it on your nachos? If the answer is no, then it is a fruit.

Think about it. It is very common for people to put salsa or guacamole on their chips. Salsa, of course, consists of various ingredients. However the primary one is tomatoes. Guacamole has avocados in it. Therefore, they're all vegetables. No logical person would even consider putting fruit on their chips--unless they were really trying to impress you. When was the last time you smashed up bananas and watermelons, then dipped your nachos in it (unless you were high)? Never? Exactly my point

Now that I have unleashed to you a whole new realm of secretive information, you will hopefully sleep well once more. I can only pray that you will never toss and turn at night, going crazy with your own thoughts, questioning everything you know and love--your family, your friends, your sanity, your existence, and even life its self. Those days are over with now. Everything is going to get better.

So sleep well, children. And don't worry about me. I can become one with my surroundings. I have had run-ins with the FBI before, and once it was even more serious than this. Yes, you best believe it. I can get away, and I will get away. I always do. 

Until then, 

Sidewinder

Torture 101

I absolutely loath being called up to the front of the class. I hate having to be the unfortunate bastard that is being forced to pick up that stupid, purple marker and write a series of numbers on the white board. My hatred for this will never change. It will not change when I know that I got the correct answer. It will not change when the equation is easy. It will not change even when I have been fully capable of simplifying rational expressions and equations for the past 3 years. And it certainly will not change even when I know that not one person in the class (except for that overachieving, bar-raising, bitch Elizabeth) is paying attention. Because, regardless of everything, it's fucking 9 o'clock in the morning and everyone, especially me, would like nothing more than to crawl into my nice, comfy bed--fuck the world--and sleep like a hibernating grizzly bear.

And besides, who says that a student must get out of their seat in order to learn all the required material? Seriously, I'd like to meet this asshole. My ass and my desk have a very strong bond, and breaking that relationship--even if it's only for 2 minutes--is completely unnecessary and uncalled for. 

And furthermore, when is alphabetizing your variables a crime? Listen, if you are a little asshole, like that bitch Elizabeth, than Professor Sidewinder has one thing to teach you today: ab2x over 8 is the same as xab2 over 8, and if you think otherwise than you are a fool, who should get slapped in the face (not too hard, but enough to get your head out of your rectum).

I have issues that may or may not affect my work ethic and most certainly affect my personal life.

Good day,

Sidewinder

P.S. I would apologize for not updating in eons, but I highly doubt I have a high enough fan base (or an existing one, for that matter) for that to be necessary...so, go fuck yourself.