March
14 - Nightwolves Suck It's 1:30 AM and I'm wondering why I'm writing this. Maybe because I have to update sometime and there's no better time than the present. My schedual has been hectic lately. I'm nearing the end of the 2nd trimester of my Sophmore year. My school operates around trimesters rather than quarters... because they're crazy. Anyways, I'm finishing up all my work, and of course all my teachers are assigning last minute asinine projects; like making colorful brochures about Chinese imperialism. I also have to finish my game for programming class, which is right now one ship moving downwards, one moving diagnoly and then everything crashing. Eddy gave me a copy of his new show, and for once, he's actually done something right. I love it, I honestly do. Some bits are the usual "What the hell did they make this for?" type of fare, but the rest of it is really great. Andy's new animation is just batshit amazing, and the skit with me and Eddy talking in the car about Tampons and Nazis is high-larious. If this is the last show, it's a good note to go out on. But I'm sure Eddy will make one more random show to cement himself as the eternal hack. He told me if I reviewed his new show I wouldn't have to whore it out anymore, so consider this the last whoring out of Eddy. Wait, that just sounds wrong. Me and John's gang war is getting out of control. See, I run the East Street Ridaz, a bunch of true thugs for life, while he runs the Nightwolves, a bunch of yellow-bellied sucka pusses. I can't walk down the hallway now without some punk hitting me with the Nightwolf cross (make an x with your arms, there ya go!). At Lunch words were exchanged, until my associate Billy delivered my message to the Nightwolves in the form of a sweet and sour sauce dipping cup. Written on the bottom was "You're Dead Carey." John started crying about how he felt threatened so I sucker punched him in the gut. So anyways, if you're a true thug, join the East Street Ridaz. If you enjoy having John take naked pictures of you for his "gang files" then join the Nightwolves. Not a lot else has been happening. Still hitting the flea market every sunday and wasting money like a horny american tourist in Bangkok (That took at least 3 minutes to come up with so enjoy it). Jared, the same guy who sold me his childhood in the form of 150+ Nintendo cartredges, might be able to procure a used copy of Steel Batalion from his cousin. Of course, you know this excites me, because it melds my two passions. Wasting rediculous amounts of money on obscure overpriced video games, and driving giant robots around. Also, Michael Burke wants me to write news articles for his new site he's starting up, and though I was skeptical, he even offered to pay me. That fucking playboy. Michael Burke pisses me off, making money with his god damn web design/flash bullshit. If he thinks he can buy me with his money then... he's absolutely right. Because I, ladies and gentlemen, am a money whore. I was sitting in programming when Michael R. starts humming some random tune I vaguely remember. It strikes the back of my mind and I'm stuck wondering where it's from for about a minute. I finally ask him where it's from and he tells me "Yoshi's Story." Suddenly I remember, it's the 7th grade, I'm at Gabe's house, in his bedroom, watching him play Yoshi's Story. Then Gabe gets a little older, does a lot of pot, gets seriously fucked up and his parents move with him out to Colorado. I don't even think I'll even see him again. Yoshi's Story was a terrible game. Catchy theme though. |
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