December 10, 2009

Poopy Hands

I actually really hate staying up late. I just can't help myself.

Well, I've been checking out other blog hosting sites. I'm getting really sick of blogger. So, I rather not bore you by listing out everything that's lousy about blogger which you should already know because I know many people uses this shitpile. So if you have a brain, use it. Let it not become a mass of a type of normally brown excrement. Saves me a lot of explanation.

Talking about brown excrement, I'm beginning to doubt the people managing this neighborhood I live in is doing nothing but suck on lollies all day. Why? They allow dogs to walk around the park and we ALL know dogs like to leave a little present behind. They're also very smart, hiding it somewhere between tall, uncut weeds, next to a pile of mud of the same colour.

Before I persist, let me thank the universe for allowing such unfortunate events drop in my hands.

Literally.

I kicked the soccer ball towards my brother. His Kate Moss legs couldn't keep up with the velocity of the ball that suffered my power kick and the ball went rolling into some overgrown weeds. I ran after it and picked it up only to know my fingers grazed across a soft textured, sort of doughy, matter. It could only be two things; mud or crap. I crossed my fingers, PRAYING that it wasn't the latter. But well, it wasn't a good day. No. The universe has its way of putting shit in my hands. Thanks.

It doesn't matter what you believe in. Master Chief has explained it all. Epic video about the immense universe and God. LOLOLOLOL.



Last night my brother decided to keep up with mah cool by staying up late and watching House with me. As expected, he got hungry.

Justin: Are you hungry?

Me: No, are you?

Justin: Quite... I feel like having McDonalds.

Me: I can't get McDonalds for you NOW.

Justin: I feel like having cheese.

Me: Do you want cheese? (Idk why I asked. Just to entertain his lengthy whining about food.)

Justin: Do you?

Me: Huh? No.

Justin: Then me too.

Me: Do you want cheese or not?


Evetually (after the LOOONG contemplating), we went downstairs to get some of his barbeque flavored cheese. It was two in the morning, which meant we had to tip our toes down the stairs and whisper.

Justin : We're acting like robbers. *snicker*

We are not acting like robbers. We just don't want to wake the whole house up!

Well, you can't blame him. He doesn't get lotsa after-midnight action, if you get what I mean.

I'm going to do some other shit until I fall asleep now.

Till then.

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