|
GreenLantern3737
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Adam
Country: United States
State: Arkansas
Metro: Fayetteville
Birthday: 9/14/1985
Gender: Male
Interests: Comics. And comics. Comics are cool, too. I also enjoy movies, television, vidjeogames(!), reading, writing, and pornography. W00t.
Expertise: Comics comics comics.
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
AIM:  KwameFA37
Member Since:
9/23/2003
|
|
| Well.
It’s been a while…
Again.
A year. Wow. I am one lazy bastard. I mean, dang, one year?
At the least I could’ve, like, posted a picture of my ass or something, but no,
nothing.
And besides, throw a freaking rock and you can find a
picture of my ass somewhere.
Anyway, I think this will be it. Yeah, Xanga was neat, but I
think it’s time to fold. I’d go out with a bang, but that’d probably hurt. So I
guess this will be all. Not much, but that’s what you people expect from me
already, so s’all good.
It was fun, I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for the whole…thing.
Like, all the posts? Yeah, sorry for those. Oh well.
I guess I should leave with some parting advice, last words,
whatever. If you were to learn one thing from this Xanga, if you were to
discern some moral from these rants of a lunatic, if you are to take with you a
pittance of advice from my ramblings, let it be this…
I am Kazaam.
Seacrest out.
-Adam
| | |
|
Alright, kiddies. Storytime's over. Beddy-bye. Daddy's tired and you have school tomorrow.
This...this has gotten out of hand. I always knew you guys were sad, but this has turned flat-out pathetic.
What, our dear Maestro of Maladies, could you possibly be carrying on about this autumnal afternoon? Why, none other than the more and more, all too frequent irritant that is unoriginality. Tell us about those products, Roddy...
http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=no__notnow
http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=Danteskiing26
http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=BlackyMcBlack37
http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=Innocent_Denizen&nextdate=10%2f18%2f2004+0%3a19%3a28.017&direction=n
Go! Visit! Fornicate! Be merry!
For a few, you might have to look a couple posts down, but some should just punch you in the face. Notice a similarity in recent postings in this quartet? Well done, they're all doing comparisons! OMG! How fun! Oh, I hope they do me! Yippee hooray!
Phone's for you. Yeah? Oh, hey man, what's up? Cool. Yeah man, I'm free. Yeah cool, so like, ten minutes? Awesome. See you...wait? What? No man, what happened? Naw Dude, I've been asleep. No way. No freaking way. Adam already did that like seven months ago?! Holy sh*t splinters!
Biddly doop. Biddly doop. Coming back? Good. Reggie, our tour guide, will take it from here...
Welcome aboard, folks. We got a lot of fun ahead of us, so let's get going. Close your eyes and we'll travel back in time to Monday, September 29th, 2003, when a svelte, handsome, young Hebrew gentleman began a quest, a journey, a mission to compare those near and dear to him to the colorful characters of funny-book fame. Ah, what glorious days were these, each comparison increasing ever so much in analysis, depth, and length.
Time did take its toll. A dollar twenty-five, here's your change. Eventually this great and wonderful Xanga took a wish and a coughdrop into a new direction, with top fifty piss-off lists, his and hers hot people countdowns, a miraculously well accepted boobie dissertation, and, most recently, a photo-copied resume transcript. Remember that? Mmm-mmm good. The comparisons took a back seat and buckled up, perhaps someday to return.
Well.
Just to show all you poser, unoriginal, retard in a coma bastards how it's done, here it is. A one-time-only, void where prohibited, comic book comparison.
Start taking notes, douchebags.
Our subject today will be the boastful brother, the nimble negro, the darkie from Arkie, the Mychael RaSean Stewart!
Mychael is a talented dude. No one doubts his insurmountable level of skill in running, jumping, climbing trees, eating jam, or punching bees. A track star, football player, ACEteer (yay!), and of course, fledging porn star, he does it all and takes a nap.
I've known the dashing (pun in the sun) colored collegiate for six (seven?) years, ever since he and I and yet another of you emulative ass-bags, Patrick Simpson were members of the (zero) award winning Spring Hill Middle School Odyssey of the Mind team. Oh yeah. We sucked.
Anyway, after that fantastic frolic through creative corner, Mykie and I became friends. He'd be there for me, 'cause I'm there for him too. Lampshade.
Through the years, I've seen Mychael grow literally, figuratively (omg, pun?), mentally, socially, and uh...blackly. As we all know, Mychael triple-jumped his way to notoriety by winning EIGHT MILLION track awards at various competitions. No small feat (omg, pun'd again'd!), but I feel like it was treated like one. Everyone pissed their pants with pride if the football only lost by seven points in a game our senior year, but Mychael's success was Rosa Parks'd to the back burner. Wtf? A STATE F*CKING CHAMPION deserves a freaking parade made of chocolate, and instead he got a pat on the back and a banana Now-And-Later, and those taste like ass. Old ass. Old hooker ass. They suck.
So, an extremely talented youth, very unfortunately overlooked more times than a midget in a shoestore. So cool, man, it's...
Jakeem Thunder!
Right on! Who the f*ck?!
Simmer down, pizza kids, it's showtime...
Jakeem (or J.J.) Thunder is a member of comic's first and foremost team, the Justice Society of America. Founded in the 1940's, the JSA was America's answer to the Nazi threat in Europe. They were the first, they're probably the best...the Justice Society that is, not the Nazis.
Jakeem's predecessor was the lovable, if a bit dim, Johnny Thunder. Johnny had been born on the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month. The country of Badhnisia held a superstition that such a child would attain great power upon his seventh birthday. For that reason Badhnisian operatives kidnapped Johnny and took him to Badhnisia. There he was treated as royalty and given a golden belt with the words cei-u (pronounced "say you") inscribed upon it. Unfortunately for Badhnisia, it soon found itself at war with a neighboring country. Attempts were made to hide Johnny, but they proved futile, as Johnny eventually returned to the United States.
Years later Johnny was working as a window washer when one of his fellow workers fell from the scaffolding high above the ground. When Johnny needed a sponge, he yelled to a fellow worker, "Say you...!" Unfortunately, the worker lost his balance and fell. Fortunately, the words "Say you!" had summoned Johnny's Thunderbolt, an entity somewhat akin to a genie, who saved Johnny's co-worker. The Thunderbolt had unlimited power, and Johnny had unlimited control over it. Eventually (don't ask), the Thunderbolt transferred its essence to an ink pen, a modern-day magic lamp if you will. It was even (much) later revealed that the Thunderbolt wasn't a genie at all, but an imp from the fifth-dimension. Of course.
To make a (very) long story short, many years later Jakeem stole the Thunderbolt pen, and oddly enough, was also the seventh of etc. Yet another (very) long story short, Johnny Thunder's soul bonded with the Thunderbolt, and now he's Jakeem's cross-dimensional crony. Exposition overload, commencing shut-down.
Now, why Jakeem for Mychael? Cultural (read: black) similarities aside, JJ and MyMy share several characteristics. Mychael, for instance was perhaps BHS' finest athlete last year, by far the most successful. </asskissing> Jakeem Thunder is, potentially, the most powerful member of the Justice Society. I mean, the dude controls a freaking genie. Do you know what I'd do with a genie? Let's just say Breast Gummi Bear Island.
Jakeem once saved the universe, by changing it. All of it. All of the effing universe. THE UNIVERSE. Ok, he didn't like get an extra Andes mint after a meal or like free breadsticks or like change water into wine or some crap, HE CHANGED THE UNIVERSE. I can't even change my pants without pre-recorded video instruction.
Mychael was the best in the state last year. BEST IN THE EFFING STATE. He beat hundreds of other trained and able jerkoffs to be crowned Big Poppa Runs-A-Lot, a title I know he reveres most magnanimously. Or at least he should. I think it's cute. I could call him like, Professor Fartyshoes or something instead, but that'd be plum bastardly of me.
Continuing, JJ's unlimited power is, surprisingly enough, shadowed by unlimited obscurity. He is by no means a constant character in JSA, only appearing every five issues or so, and even when he does appear, he rarely uses his gift to its full ability.
Mychael got overlooked. Sure, a newspaper article here and there, an announcement or two, but that was it. He broke multiple records, but barely got a nod. Now he knows what we Forensics/Band students feel like. Regardless, those remarkable achievements went the way of Star Wars virtual pets, underrated and forgotten. And, dude, the Star Wars virtual pets were the sh*t. They weren't no gay-ass, multi-colored Tamagotchi pissants, these bastards had powers. They were awesome.
Right.
So, unlimited power, unlimited talent, check. Unrecognized, unrecognized, si si. Um...okay, black^2, yeah. But there's more! More! More!
The Justice Society is obscenely underestimated and widely unknown. It's insane. A team with that amount of history and power should be the wang swangin' frontline comic team, but it doesn't even have a yearbook picture. Everyone and their dog's foot knows the Justice League, but taint no one taint no where who heard tale of no society. It's sad.
Track is one of America's most underrated sports. For real, think about it. Get a piece of paper and for a minute write down as many professional track athletes as you can. No, same sheet (different day!), new sheet, whatever, for a minute write down as many professional basketball athletes as you can. Funny, huh? Track is no less a sport than football, basketball, hockey, or, I don't know, f*ck it, fire-eating. Ok, well, maybe not fire-eating since that's not, nor was it ever, nor will it ever be in the future, a sport. It's just cool. Or hot! rofl!
Aside from skill and (un)fame, Jakeem and Mychael, though both gifted, remain humble. Sure, they have their moments of ego, but who doesn't? Other than me, of course, since I'm so handsome. Neither let their power go to their head too much, and neither use their gifts for evil (grade alteration, cars n' junk)...much. They're good guys, and an even better match, and not in the gay way, I think.
You see? Analysis, levels, humor, and (MOST IMPORTANTLY) length. I'm not pointing any fingers (GIRL) but GOOD, COMPETENT, WELL-THOUGHT OUT comparisons require more than a graph and a comma. Sure, my early analogies weren't exactly epic poetry in measure, but I had nothing to go off of. I was ON MY OWN with an ORIGINAL CONCEPT.
I think it's all well and good that you guys are out their writing, but come on. You guys can start your own gimmick, I have faith. And even if you must resort to someone else's idea, at least put forth a good effort. I mean, I know you weren't all like "OMG! STEAL FROM ADAM!", and I don't mind that much that you guys are doing the same thing I did, just make 'em pretty. And good. Also, I'm not admitting to being the first person to ever compare people to junk ever, but the first in our group of friend's xangas. Glar. Whatever you do, don't get too caught up in it, because you can apply yourselves in so many new and innovative ways that will both entertain and inform.
Or, you can just be pissy all the time. Whatever
Bitches.
Excelsior.
-Adam
PS. Looking for more Jew-writing? Some of you may not be aware of the recent fiasco that took place in the Xanga of one Joshua Snow Hawks. This link http://www.xanga.com/item.aspx?user=no__notnow&tab=weblogs&uid=144905534 should take you to the comment section of his Friday, October 15th, 2004 posting. In it, you will find two lengthy word-a-majigs written by your's Jewly. Please also note that all arguments have since then been resolved.
PPS. Don't look forward to more comparisons, but perhaps more updates. I'm writing on a daily basis now, and perhaps I'll transfer some junk to this here Xanger. We'll see.
PPPS. Watch "Arrested Development".
PPPPS. He doesn't like you. I don't like you either. You just watch yourself. We're wanted men. I have the death sentence in twelve systems! | | |
| Wow wee wow wow! It's been a while.
I'm Adam, hi. Some of us have met. The buffet's behind the floral arrangement. Please, dig in.
Ok! College! Woo! Yeah, I'm in. Like Flynn. Billy Flynn!
Right.
Anyway, yeah, I'm all moved in here. It's fun. My dorm is cool. Like the other side of the pillow. Or more like the other side of your pillow. Yeah, take it.
So, at the U of A there is a radio station on campus and students can DJ! Volunteer'd! However, not any regular Joe (or Greg) can go up and spin th' disc. You gotta have skills, baby. So, they make you fill out an application. Which I did. Now you get to read! It is funny, I like to think. I like to talk like Borat. If you don't know who that is, then look him up. If you are too lazy to do that, then go to hell. And not the good kind of hell where whores and junk end up, the bad kind where people with disabilities go. Totally.
Enjoy.
| KXUA Student Radio 88.3FM Application for Disc-Jockey Position (volunteer only) |
Full Name: Adam Esquenazi Douglas
Email: greenlantern3737@yahoo.com, aedougl@uark.edu
Major: English
Phone: 479-718-1035
Expected Graduation Date: 2008
Other organizations you are involed in (if any): Hillel
Why do you want to be a DJ?: I am an excellent speaker, and, if I do say so myself (and I do), a humorous fellow. However, how humorous could a guy be if he uses the word humorous? I guess an actual humorous fellow would be all "I AM SO EFFING FUNNY! DUCK HUNT!". Or maybe that's just what a jackass would do. Either way. I also know a bit about music (it's that stuff they put in snocones, right?), and have a very diverse taste. I love to entertain, and I'd love to stretch my wings with such a readily available medium. I also enjoy mashed potatoes.
Name any relevant experience or skills (office, broadcast, etc.) you would bring to the position: I was a participant in the drama department at my old high school. I was a top performer in my competitive acting team at my old high school. I was a student at my old high school. I have ten fingers. I used to be a projectionist at a movie theater. It was cool, but it was hot up there. Kind of a dry heat, though, so it wasn't too bad. I had a pet hamster that committed suicide. Seriously. He was trying to escape, but he cut his nose and bled to death. It sucked. Chuckie the killer doll scares the hell out of me.
Are you comfortable using a PC? (this was a yes or no question, no fill-in-the-blank. I will now mark any non-fill-in-the-blank question on the application with the name of a vice-president surrounded by these little thingees **. Yes, I know, those are asteriks, suck it.): Yes.
Please name the last three albums you bought: Poodle Hat- Weird Al, Led Zeppelin Greastest Hits, Vol. 1, Let's Play!- Raffi!
Please name the next three you intend to buy: Kill Bill Vol. 2 Soundtrack, Songs About Jane- Maroon 5, Kidz Bop, Vol. 6
Name your top 10 favorite musical artists/groups: The Foo Fighters, Rockapella, Tenacious D, Better Than Ezra, Rush, Led Zeppelin, Dean Martin, Outkast, Queen, The Jackson 5
Your favorite genres of music: Pop, Rock, Alternative, Classic Rock, Rap, Swing, Big Band
Genres you would like to learn more about: Anything. I'm always up for learning. Unless I'm asleep.
And genres you dislike (if any): Country, Christian (I'm Jewish, so sue me. You probably shouldn't, though. My uncle's a lawyer. He's kind of fat, though.)
*Schuyler Colfax* Would you say you listen to KXUA: Never.
Other radio stations you listen to: Bah! Radio is for fools! I mean, cool guys! Yes, radio is for cool guys! Very cool guys! With good-looking girlfriends! Hooray!
*Charles W. Fairbanks* Shift preference: Primetime
Speciality Show / Genre Proposal: Pop culture. Everyone likes it, right? Otherwise it wouldn't be pop. Or would it? No, it wouldn't. Anyway, pop culture talk(ish) show. It's never been done, right? Ok, maybe it has. But has it ever been done by a Cuban-Jewish kid from Arkansas? Ha ha! Gotcha! What's great about pop culture is its versatility. It can range from movies (which I fashion myself as being some sort of an expert in), to comic books (which I fashion myself as being a god in, like bad), music (I like that, too), television (almost as cool as radio), sports (does Nintendo count?), to so many other things. Who better than a pop-culture junkie with way too much free time (no, not Quentin Tarantino) to wrangle all this junk together to form one gigantic talk-a-mabob thing-a-majig?! No one! Except maybe someone else! But I could probably beat them up. A show where people can call in and talk about the last movie they saw, some concert they caught in Oklahoma, the latest issue of Uncanny X-Men, or the lovable Fab Five from Queer Eye. Pop culture has no boundaries, and people love to chat. With witty commentary from their Hebrew host (that's me, for those of you playing the home game), a sketch or two, and, of course, rockin' (if that's you're thing, I'm open to suggestion) tunes sprinkled in, it could make for some entertaining radio.
Additional artists you would play on your show: Any of the artists listed above. But I guess you already knew that, otherwise you wouldn't put additional artists. Boy, is my face red! Actually, it isn't. I have dark skin, so it's kind of hard for it to turn red. Unless I burn. Like, sunburn. I don't jump in fires or anything. Well, not often, at least. Oh, and uh, you name it, I'll probably play it. I'm nice like that. Like Santa!
*John C. Breckinridge* I learned about applying for the position by: This Website.
Comments, questions, or additional favorite artists / groups: I think my grandmother thinks my name is Alan. Seriously. She calls me every so often, and she's from Cuba and doesn't speak English perfectly, and she has a really thick accent. It's kind of hard sometimes to make out what she's saying. But as I was saying, yeah, I really think she does. When she sends me cards she never puts my name on them, so maybe she's not too sure either. It kind of makes me nervous. Like, what if my whole family dies except her and she's the one who has to tell the people at the cemetery what our names are. I could wind up being "Alan Douglas" for the rest of my life. Or death. Whatever. That would suck.
Ok, that's it. I'll keep you guys updated (omg! no pun intended!'d!) on whether or not I hear back from them. Wish me luck.
Booyakasha.
-Adam
...
That's not so bad a name for the possible show.
Hmm.... | | |
| Emo'd!
I know, I know. I promised myself I'd never write an angsty crap piece on my giggleplex Xanga, but I did, so shut up. Bitches.
This update was long in the making and short in the...writing of the...the shut up. Anyway, it's dedicated to a subject that I find both incredibly fascinating and hopelessly irresistible. Not cartoons, not movies, not even my beloved comic books. No no, my friends, this update regards a topic highly valued in our society, but I believe has not fully been investigated in a way that we, the commoners (specifically, the male ones), truly understand the physical, emotional, and dare I say spiritual power that this subject holds over us. The subject?
Breasts.
Breasts and the Power They Hold: An Inquisitive and Explanatory Expose
By Adam Esquenazi Douglas, DDS
Long ago, I became aware of a presence in our world that I previously didn't really know existed. Not Jesus, silly goyim, breasts. Bosoms. Boobs. Ta-tas. Jubblies. Edna and Edith. Ya-yas. Yee-yees. Ba-dangs!, and other assorted (retarded) nicknames. To this day I still don't understand how I never noticed them. I mean, nowadays, when I'm walking down the street (which is about never), women might as well carry neon-electric-talking-3D-animatronic-cgi-handcrafted-ice sculpted signs that (literally) shout, "LOOK AT MY CHEST!". Women must realize that men don't do this maliciously or on purpose. Seriously. It's completely out of our control. Like how your body regulates your heart beat and junk. Totally involuntary.
Yes, all men are perverts. Yup, even that kindly old man at the antiques shop. Even your good ole pappy! Sick, sick minds we have. But understand, much like our wandering eyes, it is simply our nature. However, if we were given the choice to do away with this behavior-of-sorts, we probably wouldn't. It's one of those few things in life we're actually sure about. Up is up, white is white, breasts are good. Men who question the existence of the Almighty still cannot deny the fact that boobs rule.
I know many of you are probably laughing at this, especially females, but do realize, this is all the total and complete truth. It's like a mathematical fact. Math is the Universal language. Undeniable and always exact. Breasts are the Universal body language. You better believe Martians dig chestulars. Na-noo na-noo.
I could go into great detail about breast size, placement, coloration, firmness, texture, taste, etc., but that's not what this post is really about. I'll briefly discuss this particular detail and then upwards and outwards. Heh. Anyway, as for my personal preference, I'd have to say that the breasts I enjoy the most are of the existent variety. Let me explain. By existent I don't exactly mean protruding (but those are wonderful, as well) I mean, the knowledge that a person is female and has breasts is good enough for me. And, of course, they must be of age. I won't be goin' around to preschools shouting "SHOW ME THE BOOBIES!". I can wait until they hit elementary school like any other civilized adult, thank you very much.
Now, on to the subject at hand: The power that breasts really hold. Remember that Huey Lewis and the News song "The Power of Love"? Who doesn't, right? Shut up 98% percent of you. Anyway, go listen to it and replace "love" with "breasts". It's what he really meant, anyway. "The power of breasts is a curious thing. Make one man weep, make another man sing. Change your heart to a little white dove. More than a feeling (um...shut up), that's the power of breasts."
I know women think they understand the power they really posses, but women, in their usual infinite and cosmic ignorance ( ), don't. Not calling women dumb (hey man, I know I couldn't cook like that) they're just not fully aware of this awesome influence they have. I guarantee you a 42 dd'er could get a free meal at Arby's if she so desired. Heck, a regular ole 36 B chick could at least get 10% off. Even those A-Team scrappers could knock up an extra nugget or two. Try it. AIGHT?!
A good number of females do exploit these blessing they've been bestowed. There's a reason Playboy, Hooter's, cheerleaders, Pamela Anderson, porn, and so many others are so successful. If you got it, flaunt it, baby. Ain't no one complaining. Except maybe like, gay guys or something. But who are they kidding, really? They like Aunt Greta's potatoes just as much as we do. They just dress better. And take it in the butt.
Women could easily take over the world. I think they know it too, they just chose not to. Why? Because it's just so easy to play victim. So much easier to call men pigs and watch Oprah and just be a bunch of Negative Nancies. And this, of course, all ties into the power they possess. It's fun to use an ability you have to your advantage, but it's much more fun to keep it hidden. Like keeping a secret. A secret identity, if you will. Actually, that doesn't work at all. The fact of the matter is that if a bunch of topless women stormed the White House, we'd be hailing the chiefette in about forty seconds. And that's only if there's a tour going on.
So, I guess I gotta end this. While it's true, I could write the great American breast novel if I so desired, I believe we've delved enough into the wonder and mystery that are breasts. Much like the Tootsie Roll Pop, the world may never know. Perhaps this is some great cosmic joke where we spend our entire lives focusing on a girl's dynamic duo, only to realize that we've wasted what could've been a fruitful and meaningful life, curing diseases, ending famine and plague and bringing about true, pure, unadulterated world peace if we weren't so busy drooling over Goofus and Gallant. It's tragic, but it's justice, I guess. The only solution would be for all the chicks to kill themselves, but then there'd be no babies, and our peace would be quite brief. Like a spankfest after a three-week trip to grandma's where you have to bunk with your hairy, Grateful Dead fan, Uncle Chuck, brief. It's funny 'cause it's true. But not funny ha-ha.
What else is there to say? I love breasts. It's that simple, and yet, so deep. I hope all women appreciate what they have. Be proud of your chest. Big, small, white, black, round, square, lime, tangerine, cherish it. Men certainly do. We may not always be listening, but we're certainly always watching.
Always.
Coca-cola.
-Adam
| | |
| Alright, I'll update. I don't know if this will be the usual laugh-a-rama you kids are used to in this Xanga, it's more like an update of what's going on. Really, so you people stop asking me about it. Many of you have already heard this, and I'm sorry for the repeat. You can just go like, watch porn or something. I highly reccommend www.onlymovies.com .
So, college is a crazy thing. We all know this, no need to go into detail. Where am I going?
This is where it gets tricky.
So, a few months after senior year started I started making my college choices, talking to the counselor, all that junk. I, of course, wanted to attend college out of state, and my parents told me this...
"We'll provide 'x' amount of money, and if you want to go out of state, you come up with the rest."
Well, I took that to heart, and I did. I came up with the other half and then some. I showed this to my parents, and they said no. They went against their word and said no. I cannot go out of state (University of Iowa), and they will not support me there if I do.
So, here I am, no choice whatsoever but going to U of A. And if any of you mention loans, I'll punch you. I don't want to take out loans. Three reasons. One, it's a bit late. Two, I don't want debt when I leave college and go to graduate school. And three, because I shouldn't have to. I've worked my ass off to do what I want to do, and then it was ripped away. I bring it up to my parents, I get yelled at. It is so inconceivably unfair, that I still have a hard time accepting that it's true.
I was lied to by people who say they only want the best for me, when in truth they just don't want their nest egg (yes, this is my future role in my family) straying too far away. My parents have always been selfish, I just never knew how much.
That, however, is just one of many reasons why I think they did what they did. The truth is is that I don't really know why. All I know is that my relationship with my parents will never be the same. They think everything's fine and dandy and that I'm the same as always, but what they don't realize is that when I'm done with all this shit, I am never returning. Unless they're sick or dying (and it better be for certain), I'm not coming back. This may sound real cruel and heartless to you, but I don't care anymore. I'm tired of being lied to. This is not the first time this has happened, but it is definitely one of the biggest.
I was never told the reason my parents divorced. My sister told me two years ago. Two years ago. This happened when I was five. My parents don't trust me with anything. Sure, they'll let me go out, but I think it's just because if I ever bring up the fact that they don't trust me, they can dangle it in front of me and use it as defense. Sick, eh? That's how manipulative they are. It's been like this for years. Hell, for as long as I can remember. It's deplorable, but that's how my family works. It's all a matter of pride and maliciousness, and it always, always has been.
I'm not saying I'm the golden child, or Petey Perfect, I'm probably the exact same way they are. It's what I was raised in, and you gotta adapt to survive. War is not won by peace.
And you guys wonder why I'm so f*cked up.
Anyway, on that light note, I'm going to have lunch. I'm hungry.
Bye.
-Adam
| | |
|
