your journal's journal's journal

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Mon, 04 Sep 2006 02:21:42 GMT

Holy crap it's LiveJournal!

I broke my phone (again) while I was in Hawaii, and just got a new one. But that means I lost my contacts list. So if you want me to have your number, get that to me somehow.

Word.

(My number's the same)

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Sat, 10 Jun 2006 23:08:39 GMT

Oh damn this is awesome:

How many Virginia college students does it take to change a light bulb?

William and Mary students: Three, one to change the bulb, and two to crack under the pressure.

Old Dominion students: Four, two to change the bulb, and two to figure out how to get high off the old one.

Mary Washington students: The whole student body, there's nothing better to do on the weekends.

UVA students: One, he just holds the bulb and lets the world revolve around him.

Mary Baldwin students: Four, one to change the light bulb, and three to figure out how it will help them meet their future husband.

Virginia Tech students: Three, one to change the bulb, and two to discuss how they did it just as well as a UVA student.

James Madison students: None, Harrisonburg doesn't have electricity yet.

VCU students: None, downtown Richmond looks better in the dark.

Eastern Mennonite U students: Two, one to hold the candle, and the other to strike the flint.

VMI students : One Rat to actually change the bulb, one upperclassman to yell at him for not doing it fast enough, one to yell at him for not using the proper wattage, and one to send him up to the Rat Disciplinary Committee for letting the bulb burn out in the first place.

U of Richmond students: Two, one to mix the martinis and one to call the electrician.

Hollins College students: None, that's what maids are for.

Longwood students: None, the Farmville Super Wal-Mart has fluorescent lighting.

Hampden Sydney students: Five, one to actually change the light bulb, and four to figure out how this could get some Longwood girls to come over.

Radford students: Just one, but it takes six years

Randolph-Macon students: None, they'll just drink in the dark

Washington and Lee students: Four, one to change the bulb, and three to talk about how great the old one was!!!!!!!!!!!!

George Mason students: Three, if they get lucky and one of them has taken the course at NOVA.

Sweet Briar students: One to change the bulb, and three to call up daddy and cry and complain about how awful the whole experience was.

Christopher Newport Students: 360, 1 to change the bulb and 359 upperclassmen to bitch about how they got screwed over by housing. :)

Liberty University Students: None, God said "let there be light" and all was good, and no one questions Falwell.

So how's everybody's summer going?

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Wed, 26 Apr 2006 07:43:11 GMT

I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL CLASSES ARE OVER AND I'M HOME FOR THE SUMMER!

Last final on Wednesday the 3rd. Go home on Saturday the 6th. Week and a half left, I can do this. As much as I've enjoyed this past semester, I'm really looking forward to being temporarily done with classes and having awesome Springfield summer fun for a bit. :)

Oh hello there LJ how are you doing? Fine I hope.

Oh hello there LJ friends, keeping up with LJ things?

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Tue, 06 Dec 2005 05:34:43 GMT

Damn, I haven't posted anything in just about forever. It's a little past midnight and I'm bored fuckless, so I might as well get a quick update out.

I pretty much hate everything about CNU. I came to this emo realization many weeks ago. When I'm in the room, I don't want to leave. After classes, I don't look forward to returning to the room. And back when we still had the money for weekend road trips, I absolutely DESPISED the thought of returning to campus at all.

I've gotten in trouble too much, and my grades aren't any good either. Which makes no sense, because that's not who I am, and that's not what this school's like. I really want to transfer to JMU next year. For that to to be possible, they're going to need to look at my second semester grades, and those grades are going to have to kick all sorts of ass. I'm planning on e-mailing somebody from JMU admissions over winter break, just to see what's up. All I really know is I'm pretty miserable here, and the only thing getting me through each day is looking forward to being back in Springfield, and shortly after, seeing Sara again.

On a happier note, a goddamn CAR fell into my lap over Thanksgiving break. My grandpa finally realized he really shouldn't be driving, and since they've got two cars, they decided to give the one they were least familiar with to me. I never expected myself to be GIVEN a car, so this was pretty fucking cool. It's an '02 Ford Focus, completely stripped bare, no power windows or locks or anything. But it's got less than 9,000 miles on it, so it's practically brand new. Oh yeah, and it's a CAR!! So I'm happy.

I also found out over Thanksgiving break that I've got a pair of Redskins/Cowboys tickets headed my way (graduation present from the new owner of the Redskins ticket office, a good friend of the family's). Come December 18, Brendon and I will be freezing our asses off for an amazingly awesome cause. I can't believe I've never been to a Redskins game before.

While on the topic of random ramblings, I've been without my own computer for around two months now. Dell's been giving me the runaround on my new one, and it finally arrived today. I'm surprised it came at all, after all the bullshit they've put me through.

I'm hoping to work as much as possible for those five weeks of winter break, since I burnt through most of my checking account this first semester. The thing is, seasonal work is a lot harder to get than I thought. Target's been the only place to respond to an application, and I still haven't been able to schedule an interview with them since they don't call me back.

Over winter break, Brendon's going to be staying with me, from the 10th to the 20th. I can't fucking wait for that, I haven't seen the guy since August. Hopefully we get to tear it up like old times... sometimes I really miss last year.

This post got pretty long. I doubt anybody will read it, seeing as it's been ages since I've put in the time for a real update to begin with. Rambling away my jumbled up thoughts tends to help me feel better though, so hopefully I'll wake up and feel a bit of a catharsis. To whoever may be reading this, I hope you've been doing well, and I apologize for boring you with what could only be even slightly interesting or important to me. Au revoir!

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Thu, 27 Oct 2005 04:08:53 GMT

FUCK the White Sox. Goddamnit. As a Cubs fan, I've got enough baseball depression in my life as it is. :(

I'm a cybersucker

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Sat, 22 Oct 2005 04:35:03 GMT

Well now. Weird...

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Wed, 19 Oct 2005 14:33:28 GMT

Turning 19 feels very different from turning 18. You know, not at all exciting.

Ah well, here begins the 14-hour drunkathon!

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Thu, 29 Sep 2005 19:40:58 GMT

Fun times at CNU!!!

Thread: http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=1680476

The "incident," if you will, occured a couple of weeks ago. My roommate Jeff and I were screwing around in the room about 10 some weeknight. We had just rediscovered an airsoft pistol I had tucked away in some bag. Jeff was holding it in his hand, not shooting it or pointing it at anything in particular, just as an RA walked by the open door. She sort of did a double-take, then chirped "SOOOOO not allowed."

Damn. Makes sense though, should've seen it coming. She asked him to unload the thing (wasn't loaded to begin with) and give her the gun and any pellets we had for it, which he did. Then she asked us if we had anything else in the room she should know about, and of course we said no (our bags full of paintball junk were stowed away fairly secretively). She was acting like this was no big deal at all, and being fairly friendly about the whole thing, and for SOME reason I chimed in with "we don't have anything else, but actually that's mine, Jeff was just messing with it."

Hurrrr...

So she got my name and ID number too, and left with the stuff. We had completely forgotten about the situation within 15 minutes.

A couple of days later, I got a charge notice in my mailbox, informing me I had been charged with a weapons violation and should contact judicial affairs to schedule a hearing. *sigh* I called them and scheduled the appointment, but still didn't expect much more than a slap on the wrist.

Two days ago was my meeting. I met with Katie, the Coordinator of Judicial Affairs, this past Tuesday. She asked me such meaningful questions as "Are you a gun enthusiast? Do you own a gun? Would you consider purchasing a firearm in the future? If so, would you research the model of the firearm, and its power?" ad nauseum, for half an hour. I thought I achieved the perfect balance of honesty and PC bullshit she wanted to hear, and left her office still not anticipating any serious consequences. She was surprisingly amiable throughout the whole discussion.

Today, I found an envelope in my mailbox from Judicial Affairs, marked CONFIDENTIAL. A very thick, forboding envelope. I don't have a camera, but I'll transcribe some of the 3-page letter that was inside.

From our discussion and the related incident report No. 5FA0041, the following is believed to be true:

* You are responsible for violating the University weapons policy.

As a result of your infraction, the following sanctions will apply:

1. You have been placed on disciplinary probation through May 31, 2006. This means that further violations of University policy may lead to the sanction of suspension. A student on such probation may remain at the University only upon the condition that the student comply with regulations and standards of the institution and with such other measures as may be imposed as a condition of the student's probation.
2. You have been placed on deferred suspension from University residential facilities through May 31, 2006. Further violations of University policy may lead to the sanction of suspension from the residence halls. A student on such a deferred sanction may remain in University residential facilities only upon the condition that the student complies with regulations and standards for the institution and with such other measures as may be imposed as a condition of the student's sanction.
3. You must write a reflective paper (refer to the enclosed instruction sheet). Your paper is due no later than Ocotber 14, 2005... blah blah blah.
4. A copy of this letter of censure will be placed in your file.
5. Failure to comply with the above listed sanctions may result in more severe sanctions, including the possibility of suspension from the University.

The above sanctions cannot be appealed unless based on a due process violation or upon receipt of information not available at the time of the Initial Conference...

Here's that enclosed sheet (grammatical nuances and all):

Write a reflective paper responding to the following questions:

1. Research the make and model of the weapon that you fired on campus. Write a description of its power, including velocity of bb, firing range, etc.
2. The guiding mantra of the Office of Judicial Affairs is responsible freedom. Develop an interpretation of responsible freedom and apply this meaning to your actions in the incident.
3. Watch the movie, Bowling For Columbine, by filmmaker Michael Moore. Identify the main theme of the movie. Comment on your thoughts on the film's theme. How do you feel about the film's portrayal of the Columbine incident and its critique of current societal laws regarding gun control? What duties do you feel accompany gun ownership and/or use of a firearm.

The paper must be 10-12 pages in length, double-spaced, and in 12 point Times New Roman font with no larger than 1" margins. Submit your composed paper to... blah blah, blah fucking blah.

Disciplinary probation? Deferred Suspension? 10 page paper? MICHAEL MOORE?!? All for an airsoft gun. That I wasn't even holding, that wasn't even fired.

edit for clarification: Jeff got the same punishment. I'm not really upset with the RA, she was doing her job. I'm mad at myself for being dumb (a little), and with the sort of shit I've got to do now because of it (a lot).

Right now, I think I'm going to deal with their shit. I'll write them a paper, but it's not going to be what they want to hear. Since the part about the make/model/velocity of the airsoft toy is going to be about half a paragraph long, I'll have all SORTS of space to rip apart Bowling for Columbine. God I wish I had better things to do with my free time...

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Thu, 22 Sep 2005 15:07:05 GMT

Yeah, I'm bored.

I was halfway expecting some bizarre answer that would seem really strange to me, but I gotta say, this is pretty much right on.

You are a
Social Liberal
(63% permissive)

and an...
Economic Liberal
(31% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Democrat

Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid

Haha, this was my favorite question:
24. It should be legal for two consenting adults to challenge each other to a duel and fight a Death Match.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Fri, 16 Sep 2005 14:42:37 GMT

Whoa, I've completely forgotten about this poor thing!

College is good and stuff. Apparently I have lots of free time, since I do cool things like take Ashley's somewhat normal picture and completely emo-ize it.

Maybe I'll get a real update done at some point.

Oh yeah, does anybody know/remember the pink guy story? Well, the other day I made a massive crazy version of it. 2,502 words of intensity. It's inside the cut, so as not to rape your friends page.

I don't normally post incredibly long LJ entries about anything, so try and fight the urge to brush this off as something really dumb, even though it is. The basis for this is a story/joke that's been around just about forever. I decided to take that story, rape it in the ass without protection, drop it in a tub full of honey, let the bees go after it, then fry and it up and serve it for supper.

What I'm trying to say is that I wrote this story for the hell of it, and would kindly appreciate it if you read it or something. If you don't that's cool too, I probably wouldn't wanna read a 2,502 word piece of shit either.

This story is about a man named Bill. Bill was in his mid twenties at the time, living by himself in a decently large house somewhere in rural America. It was a fairly normal situation, for the most part. Except for one small catch: Bill was absolutely OBSESSED with the color pink. I mean, it was crazy. His house was pink, his car was pink, he had pink flowers growing amongst pink landscaping rocks in his front yard. Pink welcome mats on top of pink carpet in front of every pink door. Pink walls, pink ceilings, pink light bulbs, pink garbage disposal (I'm telling you, this man was devoted).

Anyway, one seemingly calm afternoon, our friend was lounging in his pink recliner, sipping a pink beer, watching his pink TV, when he heard a knock at the door. He set his pink beer down on one of many pink coasters littering the room, slipped on his pink sandals, and walked over to the very pink front door where he found an old lady and a small dog. Being the polite ambassador of colors he was destined to be, he asked "How can I help you, ma'am?" Turns out the poor old lady's car broke down just up the street, and she was wondering if she could make use of his telephone.

Of course Bill obliged, being the nice guy he was, and led her through the pink foyer and over the pink tiles to the delightfully pink telephone. She slowly dialed a number while cautiously eying the monotone monstrosity she’d found herself immersed in, and patiently waited through 13 rings before sighing slightly and hanging up the pink phone. (Convoluted run-on sentences are FUN, kids!)

Being the generous fellow he was, our pink friend opened up his home to his newest elderly acquaintance and her K-9 companion, offering her a place to stay as long as she needed. Nearly without hesitation, the woman accepted the invitation, and so Bill led her to a spare room she could stay in for the night. Up the pink stairs they went, along the pink corridor, past a pink painting hung by fluorescent pink string, until they arrived at a green door.

The man opened the door and flipped a switch, revealing green lights flooding the green bed atop the green-tinted hardwood floor, surrounded by flowery green wallpaper. The lady seemed taken aback, but decided she’d rather stay than possibly anger her obviously deranged host (dogs are colorblind, so Sparky really couldn’t have given a shit less). She smiled politely and thanked the man as she closed the door, and he returned to his downstairs recliner after grabbing a fresh beer.

Two hours or so passed fairly uneventfully. Our defender of the tasteless spent the time washing his pink dishes in the pink sink with his special-ordered pink scrubby, drying them with a ratty pink towel, and returning everything to the pink cabinets where they belonged. He heated up a Hot Pocket (don’t get any crazy ideas now, this was just a normal Hot Pocket… some things simply aren’t meant to be pink) in his pink microwave and ate it off a pink-woven paper towel, so as not to dirty any more dishes.

Just as he finished his bachelor meal, Bill heard another knock at the door. He dropped off his dinner remnants into the pink trash can on his way to the pink door, stumbling over a pink duffel bag left in the hall from his trip the week before. Opening the door, he was greeted by a tall fellow, also in his mid-twenties, with a large framed backpack clinging to his sagging shoulders. The backpacker explains how he’s been on the trail for three and a half weeks, but recently found himself disoriented and low on supplies. He needed a place to stay and a way to restock, so the pink fiend opened up his house for the second time in one afternoon, this time even offering to drive the man wherever he needed to get the next morning. They talked for a minute on the porch, determining the hiker’s name to be Jim. He had lost his job and needed a vacation; for Jim, the solemnity of the outdoors was the perfect place to relieve some stress.

Bill invited the outdoorsman indoors, and had him drop his pack on the pink shag carpet of the glaringly pink living room. Looking around, Jim seemed amused, but grateful to be in the company of air conditioning for the first time in weeks. Assuming correctly that Jim would like nothing more than a hot shower and a soft bed, Bill began the trek upstairs with Jim in close pursuit. The pink stairs and pink corridor and pink painting barely fazed Jim, nor did the seemingly out of place blue door they stopped at.

Bill didn’t even open this door. He mumbled something to Jim about being able to sleep there, and then walked over to the guest bathroom. He made available fresh (pink) soap and (pink) towels for Jim to shower with, and shuffled back down the (pink) stairs before Jim had a chance to open the blue door.

The rest of the evening was boring and uneventful. TV shows started and ended, beers were opened and consumed, and not a peep was heard from either of Bill’s guests upstairs. Exhaustion eventually got the best of Bill. He dozed off in his pink chair, curled up under a pink blanket, dreaming pink dreams.

…until he was jarred violently awake by rapid pounding on the front door. Groggy, Bill threw off the blanket and wiped his eyes, barely making out a “2:27 A.M.” on the (pink) microwave clock. Trudging over to and opening the door, he found an attractive blonde woman in her early twenties standing there, looking terrified. Her eyes darted upward to meet Bill’s, she was shaking. Without saying a word, he opened the door fully to let this mystery woman in and then quickly closed it again.

They stood there next to each other in tense silence for a moment, the girl panting, like she was trying to catch her breath. Before long, she burst into tears. She was bawling her eyes out as she crumpled into a sobbing ball of helplessness on the pink floor. Still feeling slightly dazed, and completely confused, Bill stood there dumbfounded, not knowing how exactly to react to this newest guest.

Once those poor tear ducts finally ran out of moisture, and the woman had composed herself, she stood up and apologized to Bill. She introduced herself as Fiona, a former businesswoman from New York City. The tale she proceeded to tell was an extraordinary one.

Five years before, Fiona was invincible. Attending Harvard Business School on a 4-year academic scholarship, she worked part time as a model and was captain of the volleyball and debate teams. She was, in a word, perfect. Fiona graduated with a 4.0 and innumerable job opportunities. She began working for a popular advertising firm, making $80,000 a year from the start. Soon enough Fiona had her own luxury apartment in a premium New York real estate area (fuck you guys, I’ve only been to NYC once in my life, sorry I can’t describe the exact block she was living on). She got herself a puppy, and enough dog toys to entertain a small army. She even fell in love, with the sort of perfect man appropriately deserving of such a fine woman… or so she thought.

His name was James, and after dating for a whopping three months, they decided to move in together. This was when Fiona’s seemingly perfect life was tested and exposed. Work began to bore both of them. They partied constantly, continually discovering the newest, hottest, most exclusive clubs the Big Apple (do people still use that term?) had to offer. This soon led to experimentation with drugs. They had enough money, and it gave them an edge they had been so desperately searching for.

The recreational use, however, soon developed into addictive dependence. The couple was young and rich, and still felt invincible. They could afford this lifestyle for forever and a half, as far as they were concerned. Always striving for bigger and better things, James began dealing anything and everything he could get his hands on. Fiona and he just barely held on to their jobs, but they kept on living it up. James made what he thought to be great friends through his new profession. So great, in fact, he began to have them over from time to time so that he could share with them just a taste of his wonderful life.

Fiona’s father had died when she was 8. Her mother hadn’t been a large part of her life through high school or college, but after hearing of her daughter’s success, felt compelled to visit. She showed up at Fiona’s door one Friday afternoon, knowing only that she was employed for a successful advertising agency. What she found absolutely appalled her. Fiona was living with a drug dealer, in a formerly beautiful apartment that they had since managed to trash. She had resorted to serious drug abuse herself, and at the time of her mother’s visit, Fiona was in no state to be expected to act agreeably. Simultaneously terrified and infuriated, her mother took the puppy, and left. Fiona was dead to her.

Within the coming weeks, the life of James and Fiona spiraled out of control. They drained their joint bank account. They were attacked and robbed by one of James’s customers, and the bastard cleaned out everything of value they owned. Not that it matter, because they were soon evicted. But it wasn’t their fault they couldn’t pay, they had both lost their jobs! Fiona realized this new life of hers was leading her nowhere, and decided she needed to leave James. So that’s just what she did. She took her car and what few belongings she had left and drove to her mother’s house. Surely she, of all people, would give Fiona a second chance!

As it turns out, her mother wanted nothing to do with her. Fiona was turned away at the door, and at that point, she realized she was left with truly nothing. She started driving, desperate to find any job to work or anybody to take her in. She was met with little success, and eventually her car just couldn’t take it anymore. So that’s how she ended up in this crazy pink house.

Bill (remember Bill?) could hardly believe his ears. At first he felt like he should hate this person, and wanted to do whatever necessary to get rid of her. But after a moment’s consideration, he realized that this girl was willing to change herself for the better, and he could be the first supportive step in that process. He asked Fiona if she’d like to stay for the night, and she graciously accepted. Somewhat surprised that she hadn’t mentioned anything about the overwhelming pinkness of the place, Bill simply told her he had a room ready for her. “The red door.” He refused to accompany her upstairs, but assured her she’d be able to figure it out. Fiona thanked him again, and headed up the pink stairs alone for her first restful night in months.

Still awestruck, Bill sat in silence for a while, recounting his bizarre day. It was after 3 by this point, so he decided to get to sleep. He made the short trip to his first floor master bedroom, and opened up the white door. The instant he stepped inside, he tore off his clothes and replaced them with a pair of spotless white boxer shorts and a brilliantly white t-shirt. He yawned as he climbed into bed, pulling the white blanket over top of him, and fell asleep almost instantly.

The rest of that night was a dreamless one for Bill. He woke up around 8, groggy, but ready to start the day. He made his bed, showered, and quickly got dressed before darting out of the bedroom. Wearing his favorite pink sweatshirt, he ambled into the kitchen. He grabbed a pink bowl from the pink cabinet, a pink spoon from a pink drawer below, a box of Cheerios (Hot Pocket principle) from the pink pantry, and a pink jug of milk from the pink refrigerator (in this case the jug was pink, but there was good ol’ normal white 1% milk inside).

He poured the cereal, and returned the milk to the fridge. Just before he began eating, he jumped as Fiona appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He had nearly forgotten about the night before! She joined Bill at the table, and he offered to pour a bowl of cereal for her. When she asked what he had, Bill checked, and replied “Wheaties and Cheerios.” She asked for Cheerios, and so Bill pulled out a red bowl and the milk and poured her a bowl of Cheerios. Before he had even finished, he heard a gasp from Fiona.

“MOM?!”

There was only deafening silence as the young woman from the red room locked eyes with the old lady from the green room. Almost simultaneously the lady’s little dog entered the room, and noticing Fiona, bounded over to her. She bent over to pet the dog, trying hard not to tear up. The old lady had already started sobbing, though, and pretty soon Fiona couldn’t help herself. What began as a hateful confrontation ended in loving embrace.

Bill couldn’t believe it. What were the chances? In any case, he invited Fiona’s mother to join them for breakfast. When offered the same choice of cereals as Fiona, she also chose Cheerios. Like mother, like daughter, apparently. The green bowl was poured, and it seemed like Bill would finally get to enjoy his breakfast, and the conclusion to a grand story, as well.

Of course, that wasn’t that the case. Awakened by the noises from below him, Jim left his blue room to join the others downstairs. Upon entering the blindingly pink kitchen, however, he was stopped dead in his tracks by what he saw.

“Fiona?”

“James!”

“James?” Bill thought to himself, but knew better than to open his mouth at this point. This reunion wasn’t nearly as loving as that between mother and daughter. James/Jim inched slowly around the table, taking a seat at the far end from Fiona. In a desperate attempt to end the chilling silence and cutting glares, Bill asked James/Jim if he’d like to join the rest of them in a bowl of cereal.

“Sure. Wheaties,” he responded curtly. Bill quickly grabbed a blue bowl, put away the Cheerios, and poured the Wheaties and milk, presenting it carefully to James. The four of them proceeded to eat breakfast together, stumbling through awkward conversation involving their complex and interconnected lives.

The moral of the story? 3 out of 4 people prefer Cheerios.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Tue, 16 Aug 2005 15:31:13 GMT

Mom's going crazy, I'm finishing packing, and my dad and brother are completely carefree.

Yep, leaving for CNU today.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Tue, 09 Aug 2005 18:05:08 GMT

I'm bored and this sounds like a cool idea that will give me something to do and something for you to do as well. Yay!

1. Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Sat, 06 Aug 2005 08:00:21 GMT

Holy shit it's been forever since I updated but don't expect a good one right now. IAO was tons and tons of fun and lots of craziness went on and it was great and I loved it and people were awesome and stuff. Brendon's been staying with me this week and goes back home on Sunday so if you wanna see him before he's gone for good you may wanna get on that. I'm having this barbecue post-grad party thing on Sunday and if you're reading this and don't know nothing about that shit call me because you may want to go or something.

I sound like a 12-year old girl on coke. I swear to you, I probably am not. Oh yeah I got my laptop too and I've been leeching wireless internet from a neighbor so I haven't seen my basement in DAYS and it's been too hot to trot. Fuck I gotsta do laundry tomorrow, back to the basement. :(

KBYE THANKS FOR LISTENIN'

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Mon, 25 Jul 2005 04:47:03 GMT

Back from Cali, with lots and lots of pictures! I'd like to spend the time resizing and uploading a bunch of the good ones for the whole world to see, but that's gonna have to wait at least a week. The next two days I need to work my ass off to get ready for IAO in Pennsylvania from Wednesday through Sunday. Then on Sunday Brendon comes back and is staying with me for a little over a week, my random mega-party (which you are all invited to and better come to goddamnit) is on the 7th, then school a week and a half after that.

Wow. I feel like I haven't done anything with my summer, but it's still almost over...

(California was INCREDIBLY AWESOME AND FANTASTICALLY STUPENDOUS, by the way, but I'll save all the explanation for a post with pictures too. Also, meeting LJ friends in real is pretty cool, and Liz rocks for putting up with me for breakfast! Also also, I always manage to be making a stupid goofy face when my picture is taken... I should work on fixing that.)

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Fri, 15 Jul 2005 16:00:02 GMT

I leave this evening for a week in California... San Francisco for 3 days, Yosemity for 2 days, something else to be determined the last 2 days. I'll be getting back in next Saturday, the 23rd, mid/late-afternoon.

This LJ totally blows (even more than it used to) recently. :(

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Mon, 11 Jul 2005 19:10:53 GMT

Livejournal update, AHOY!!

Since I can't actually think of anything to write about myself, I suggest that everybody reading this leaves a comment, and a conversation of sorts can be started up and then maybe I'll have something to write about.

If you don't, I probably won't punch your face in, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Wed, 29 Jun 2005 20:52:04 GMT

Tomorrow I leave with Brendon for Georgia. The Deltoros are moving, I'm just visiting. I fly back on Wednesday, July 6, but before then I expect a great number of angry, mean, spiteful comments and phone calls. Or else nice ones, that works too.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Fri, 24 Jun 2005 21:29:34 GMT

Yet another attempt at cyber-whorrific villainy. This time college-themed!

Facebook me!

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Wed, 22 Jun 2005 03:03:24 GMT

Graduation: successful. I am FUCKING DONE WITH HIGH SCHOOL!!!!!!! :D

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Fri, 17 Jun 2005 14:34:22 GMT

Prom's tonight, and I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing afterwards. *bites nails*

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Thu, 16 Jun 2005 11:38:18 GMT

I'm sitting here right now during my last day of high school classes ever. Damn... I'm not even sure what to think.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Fri, 10 Jun 2005 19:58:46 GMT

I hate people.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Mon, 06 Jun 2005 21:40:38 GMT

Hmmm, somewhat interesting I guess... see who comments the most and stuff.

Total comments: 832 (0 screened)

1	bobthecow63	226
2	Anonymous	110
3	the_yellow_dart	83
4	definitionlazy	62
5	cantthnkofaname	43
6	crewwshs	42
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These statistics were generated using LJ Stats. Original idea from scrapdog's LJ Comment Stats Wizard.

edit: I'm so paranoid about commenting now, I feel all self-concious about being #1 by a lot. :( I VALUE YOUR FRIENDSHIP KIND COMMENTERS!

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Mon, 30 May 2005 07:47:23 GMT

Some new clouds that were spotted that still need to be named or something. Fantastically fucking cool, if you ask me, however apocalyptic they may seem.

You can find more at http://www.ksntv.com

^^ National Radar during the storm. Guess where Joplin is? That's right! ^^

So I hear we've only got school for three days this week. Kickass.

BobTheCow63@gmail.com — Sun, 29 May 2005 18:03:29 GMT

Here be a crappy update after a long while. Wahoo!!