To The Pregnant Woman Smoking a Cigarette Outside the Football Field

You are scum. You are what is wrong with this world and people like you shouldn't be allowed to breed. You need to re-evaluate what you're doing, and if what I saw is any indication of your personality, you need to re-evaluate your entire effing life. I hate you, and I feel sorry for your unborn child, who is not only stuck with a mother idiotic enough to parade her idiocy to the world, but is also probably now stuck with birth defects. Talk about insult to injury.

Now that I'm done with the insults, the story:
It was my brother's grad ceremony on the field of the local community college. We were all on our way to go get pizza afterward, and right as I walk out I spot this trailer-trash looking woman with a belly that could not be any less pregnant than a good 8 months, smoking a cigarette. If the flip-flops, sweat pants, tank top, badly dyed blond hair in a greasy-looking ponytail, heavily applied makeup and her group of similar-looking cohorts didn't give it away, the way she dragged on that cigarette was in the way that only well-practiced, "I-don't-give-a-shit" assholes can manage.

I gave her what was probably the dirtiest look I have ever given anyone, and her reaction was less than I expected and less than I wanted. I really would have liked to have some excuse to come up to her and try to talk sense to her, but her face gave no sign that she understood what my dirty look meant, let alone that she understood anything outside the concept of '4.95 a pack'.

It's a damn good thing my grandmother wasn't there to see her, because she may have slapped a ho. And my grandmother is not what we call a "frail" old woman.

Interestingly, I really couldn't care less that people smoke. It's a personal choice, and if you like tobacco, go ahead, smoke. It doesn't bother me. What ISN'T your personal choice, however, is screwing your kid's life up before they're even born. You are preventing oxygen from getting to your slimy fetus' brain. You are more than likely giving them a learning disability. You are lowering their IQ. You are making their life harder, and you are probably making yours harder too.

So, idiot woman and anyone who falls into the same category as her, you should know that I and the rest of the sane world are very, very angry with you. Watch out for old ladies swinging their giant handbags (that always seem to be full of bricks) and young 20-ishes with dirty looks, because you are officially on our shit lists.

Evil Childrens Game That I May Have Had Something To Do With: BOF

When I was in elementary school I hung out with a lot of the same people I hang out with now. Clearly they're all stalking me. Actually we all just ended up going to the same schools (and now we're all in college.)

Anyhow, fifth grade was a time to invent a lot of stuff. We made up several games, some more cruel than others. The least harmful of these games was "wall-ball" which had about three thousand complicated rules all with stupid names that meant we spent a lot of time yelling stupid things like "NO ACIES!" and "YOU'RE OUT, NO POPPIES!"

The MOST harmful game we came up with was called "BOF."

It started out as being called "Black Out," which was the phrase you yelled when you wanted to get rid or something, like the unwanted carrot sticks in your Lunchables or a clod of dirt-ridden grass that you had just torn from the ground and thrown at your friend (or enemy. whatever.) Saying "BLACK OUT!" ensured that they couldn't just throw it right back at you and be done with it, because those were the rules and the rules were god.

A loophole of the game, though, was that "black out!" didn't mean you couldn't throw that clod of grass at yet ANOTHER friend (or enemy, whatever.) and running off, safe from the clod of grass forever. For the first clod-throwing brat to be SURE that the clod stayed with the person he or she (or I, whatever) originally threw it at, they had to be sure to say "BLACK OUT, FOREVER!" meaning that the person could not dump the unwanted object on yet another unsuspecting person.

'Black Out' became 'Black Out Forever' which became 'B.O.F,' (pronounced "boff.")

BOF quickly became a way to make fun of undesired kids, as most games do. How this happened? Instead of sticking someone with a clod of grass or a half-eaten string cheese, you'd BOF a person. This consisted of wiping your hand on said unwanted person, or nudging into them, and then proceeding to "BOF" their germs onto someone else.

We did this a lot. We did it so much that the practice of it followed us well into middle school.

One day in 6th grade History class, we were BOF-ing this kid named Devin. He was an okay kid but for some reason we had all chosen to pick on him. He got BOF-ed, and BOF-ed, and BOF-ed again and again.

The teacher noticed and sent him out on an "errand" so that she could tell us all to stop BOF-ing him without him having to be embarrassed. Of course when he came back it was obvious what had happened, and 30+ kids sat in an uncomfortable silence, all mentally BOF-ing the crap out of that poor kid.

MAH BOYFRAN

is sooooo kyoot. he wanted me to tell you guys that. just in case the whole internet didn't know *notreally*. but now clearly they do. now he is saying this is a stupid blog and i should write an "actual thing" about him. and he is whining because i am quoting him precisely.

SO

HERE I GO

Look, i know you guys really couldn't care any less about me or my personal life, since everyone who reads this (with very few exceptions) is a stranger on the internet. That being said, I can pretty much assume that the only person who is going to read this the entire way through is the boyfriend himself.

I can feel this quickly turning into a love letter. I'm gonna hold off on that for as long as I can and start with the facts. Before I met my boyfriend Thomas, I was quickly becoming one of the most reclusive and boring people around. I'm still kind of boring and reclusive, but now I have someone doing that with me just about all the time. I'd never said "I love you" to ANY of my past boyfriends, and i'd certainly never really been in love with anyone. Speaking of firsts, I'd never even volunteered my phone number to a guy, before I met Thomas--and I'm closing in on 20 years old.
This boy immediately became my first (and quite possibly my only) love, and easily one of my best friends. We're clingy as hell and really nauseating to be around; googly-eyed and hands-holdy and all that mushy crap I never went for with anyone else. Lastly, the girl I used to be was kind of a jerk. I won't bore you or anyone else with the details, but I did more than my share of lying and sneaking around on previous boyfriends. It sounds really cliche to say "he made me want to be a better person," but that's exactly what happened.
So, Tommy Boo--you are easily one of the sweetest, most talented and intelligent people I've ever had the luck (it was definitely luck considering how i met you) to meet. Keep doing what you're doing, love, because I've never been happier in my entire life.
<3 notyerpirate

p.s. the game.

Fred.

soooOOOoo..
Fred's subscribers, (when i checked during the "raid" (lol) a few days ago) were at, like, 800. NOW, of course, they are approaching the two millions once again. Can i just express my utter disappointment in the ENTIRE situation? and i do mean ENTIRE.


I'm not gonna pretend i wasn't subscribed to his videos, though. that would be a lie. and i try really hard not to lie these days.

A Wild Cute Appears

HAY GUISE, DID YOO SEE THIS CUTENESS? IF NOT, SEE IT.

its cute because of the bathroom paper roll on its leg. get it?
get it?

Web Plague

This is the story of my friend whose personality and ideas I'm going to exploit for the purpose of this blog. Let's call him "Skeeter." Skeeter goes to community college, is a part-actually-basically-none-of-the-time Deejay slash composer musician type doodad who is almost always broke or nearly broke and spends much of his time complaining about his brokeness or other people's personality flaws. You're beginning to see the irony, I know you are.
I've kindly suggested to Skeeter that if he's so interested in DJing and the music world and breaking into the industry that he should probably be majoring in music, and not his current major (which as far as I can tell is nothing). He knows next to nothing about Music Theory and his music is listenable.. if you happen to be that rare breed of person who likes ambient music with the delightful twist of occasional moaning.
He decided, however, that my idea was impractical and that nobody would expect him to know anything about music theory in the recording world, if he ever broke in.
Then he came up with a brilliant idea for a viral website (he has next to no idea how to build a website) where people would sponsor him not to work. As in, "Send me money via PayPal so that I can keep on doing exactly what I'm doing."
My response of course, was something along the lines of "I'm totally on board with this, Skeeter. I mean, that's really all it takes for something to go viral. Someone says it's viral and then everyone else is immediately infected."