Thing a Week 27: Kind of a Post?

So in the first place, I'd like to apologize. This post probably won't be very long, and there is only one thing to blame it on (well technically, you could blame me, but I like to think that just because I'm the cause of an event doesn't mean I'm responsible for it. This attitude probably explains the current condition of my life). "BUT ROBBIE!" I don't hear you scream, "Surely the blame rests on you for not preparing a topic or doing any work on the post before 11 o'clock on Saturday!" riposte i thusly:
HA! and again, for unnecessary emphasis because I have childish love for hyperbole HA!!! WHile you could make that argument, and while it is a valid point, I just so happen to have a point fo my OWN. And I like to call it... Omegle. it's a site where you connect to a stranger, and then have a conversation. It is also addictive like donuts glazed in crack. To give you an idea of how addictive it is, I started this post at 11:20, went to get the address of Omegle at 11:25, and came back to finish this at... 12.
The thing is seriously like a crack sammich. I first heard of it at XKCD, where it's described thusly:
[It feels like that scene in Fight Club where the narrator sits down next to Tyler on the plane. Two strangers meeting, laying out their personality and sizing each other up in just a few words, with no expectations, and — thanks to anonymity — no consequences.

Except in this case, a lot of the time Tyler just screams “COCKS”, punches the narrator, and jumps out of the window.]

It's an apt description.

Seriously, though, the site is amazing. It's impossible to describe the feeling you get when you just connect and have an interesting conversation you will never meet again. More often, you'll get a bot spamming, but it's still a very enjoyable and addictive time waster. You should check it out!

Actually, you shouldn't You really shouldn't. Once you taste the forbidden fruit, you always thirst for more. And like some Lovecraftian horror lurking in the murky begrimed depths of the sea, when you look into its eyes....

it consumes you.

Thing a Week 26: "She Likes Cloth"... That'd be a Good Band Name

Something has recently been floating at the top of head, and I have therefore decided to broach the cask of my mind onto the Internet so that I may reuse he space for more valuable thoughts, like whether or not I should go make some toast (currently leaning towards not quite yet). Anyway, the Thought is this: Do other people try to turn all of their most awesome sounding phrases into albums/song titles?

I realize this may sound trivial (because it is), but the answer could have dramatic repercussions*. You see, I like to base my existence on the basic presumption that everyone else is a slightly (sometimes drastically) inferior copy of me, that thinks in the same ways as me. Some might call this presumption, or solipsism (technically, they would be wrong on that. Solipsism is the belief that I'm imagining everything else, whereas this is the belief that I am the pinnacle of everything else); I like to call it reality, and I'd appreciate if the rest would make a bit more effort to catch up on the scene.

This philosophy has always served me well except for the many, almost continuous times that it hasn't, but recently it hit a kink. Namely: If not everyone else is in on this Higher Truth, then they might be making an effort to individualize into NotMe's, which kind of throws a wrench into my plan to turn all of you into the drones of my hive mind. Therefore, I have decided to release the into the wild, where you may browse upon it at your leisure, and I can use your reactions to test the validity of the theory, so that eventually I'll be able to herd you all back where you belong. Underneath me.

....So, originally I was planning on turning this into a rant on band names, but I actually like this more. I will therefore cop out at this point, and leave anyone reading this with the following observation: The best album title is Curse the Black Daystar. WHy? It just is!





*Wouldn't Dramatic Repercussions be a sweet band name

Thing a Week 25: Worse Lateness

Due in part to bad planning on my part, and in part to limited computer access, I am posting this a full day late. I apologize, and will attempt to get back to a more timely schedule come next Saturday. To attempt absolution for this unpardonable crime, I am therefore writing something which I don't absolutely hate. It regards a juice box I was looking at a few days ago.
I am the kind of person who reads boxes and labels when I'm bored, so I was glancing at an off brand juice box, and I was struck by the title:

100% EXTREME 100% JUICE FRUIT PUNCH

I found it worrying. I mean, think about what it's saying! It is, apparently, fruit punch. I can accept that. Although I'm slightly skeptical, I could be persuaded that fruit was involved the production of this beverage and that the beverage can, in fact, be classified as "punch". Except it's also juice. 100% juice, to go by the title. Can juice and punch coexist? Are the two, in fact, one and the same? It is a gosh darned MYSTERY, and I am currently to lazy to see if Wikipedia can solve it. And then, of course, there is the extremity of it. This is an extreme drink. Very extreme. It's extreme! I cannot possibly stress just how extreme it is. It's so extreme that it isn't even extreme at all, it is actually eXtreme, which is apparently what happens when an adjective levels up. It has achieved some sort of transcendence. I am talking about the kind of extremity the has lightning bolts radiating from it. You could use this kind of extremeness to describe someone snowboarding out of a supersonic jet while fighting a grizzly bear strapped into a hang glider that has wings made from machine guns.
THIS JUICE IS 100% EXTREME
So I'm just wondering, why do we let this anywhere within fifty feet of our bodies? (the answer is, of course, that it is delicious and chock full of addictive chemicals)

Thing a Week 24: The Bad Wakeups

Have you ever woken up completely confused? You know, you go to bed way early and and wake up just as the sun is setting, and don't remember anything for a few minutes? Ever wondered what it would be like if that feeling kept going?

I woke up thirty five seconds ago, and I don't know what's going on. The last thing I remember is going on a walk to buy one of those vaguely creepy fake-fruit-with-possibly-toxic-glaze-substance pies at the "bakery", and now I'm here, chained upside down to a slab of iron.

...I think my memory might have some missing links.

Maybe I'm still dreaming. I kind of hope not, that seems a bit cliche right now. Anyway, I can never remember thinking about my dreams while I'm having them except when I'm having lucid dreams, and those don't count. Most of my my dreams seem to involve me running away from people trying to kill me. The last three or so that I can actually remember have kind of had that same over arching theme.

...Maybe my head's trying to tell me something.

Why is there lava underneath me?

I don't think my bed is upside, made of iron, or anywhere near the vicinity of a lava pit.

Maybe I am dreaming.

Thing a Week 23: ResponsiblyLate

Last week I predicted that I would be late in posting.

Turns out I'm psychic.

Anyway, I'm late posting because of an event which I was attending, which is called Buckeyes Boys State. It was excellent. Anyway, what I doubt anyone has realized is that the statement I just made represents a significant leap away from my previous position on any kind of publicly internet service, namely this: I specifically stated a personal detail about my life. If any of you find this inconsistent, that would be because it is. I spend most of my time in these posts talking (i.e. whining) about my personal life. I suppose the difference is mostly one of personal viewpoint. I have finally admitted to myself that the internet is ridiculously easy to hack, and there's not a lot of security measures that I am industrious enough to follow to make it even moderately difficult for all the pedophiles out there find and cyberstalk me.

HOORAY FOR PROGRESS!
that is all for tonight.

Thing a Week 22: Stirring Statements from the Future.

By the way, to any possible readers and myself, I'd like to state that there is a high possibility that next weeks post won't take place until the 22. I felt like writing something vaguely stiring and creepy.

"And THEREFORE, if we wish to continue on the path of Right and Truth, we MUST continue to follow the will of the Overmind. If we are to remain great in the eye of the Overmind, we must FOLLOW the Overmind. WHEREVER it may lead us, WHENEVER it requires our service, WHATEVER that service may be, we MUST BE READY. Let vigilance and industry be our watchwords, let obedience be our state of mind. If we follow in the steps of the Overmind, surely nothing but good can result! Today, I welcome you, the future, to take upon you the mantle left by the past. RISE, I say, RISE-for if you do not, then what exists for tomorrow but the oblivion of ignorance and, worse yet, of unguided knowledge? Let us remain watchful ever, that we do not find our minds slipping into the Chaos,-NAY the ANARCHY of individuality. And if, on some future dawn, the temptation presents itself, I bid you remember 1077! In the coming years, remember today! for this is the day that the children I see before don the mantel of the Protectors of Tomorrow!"

Vice Admiral Cobar Entz returned to his seat accompanied by the enthusiastic roar of the ignorant, sat down, and fell apart inside himself. He had preferred the day when the wave of progress hadn't felt like it was trying to convince him to fall off a ledge. And now here he was, issuing gaudy declamations to the future backstabbers that he was training to dethrone him. He felt old, and tired, and as he looked at the crowd, they seemed to be baying for his blood.

Thing a Week 21: Memoirs of a sixteen year old

So I've spent basically all of this last week organizing my room, and it has been a Big Thing for me. My room is pretty full of space, but almost all of that space is covered in various pieces of second (and fifth and eighty-seventh) hand furniture, and basically all of that furniture was filled years of accumulated debris. I found stuff I'd never even guessed at, like that clown skeleton in the closet. ...that was one of the more awkward things. However, I'd put even odds that the clown deserved whatever he got. I mean, he was a clown. I also found some pretty awesome stuff, like the schematics for one of my favorite birthday cakes ever (to a certain sister of mine, it was the castle siege cake, and yes, I still love the pangolin cake, and will be equally ecstatic if I find long-lost plans for it in one of my desk drawers). I also discovered that although I didn't realize it, my room has approximately five million cubic yards of rope (all of which comes in the form of 3 foot long segments, so most of it it is kind of completely useless for any purpose at all), four different tiny containers of sunscreen. and SO MANY PENS AND PENCILS. I am not even joking, it was ridiculous. I have a mug, in which i hold my various implements of writing, and I had to weed it out twice. I could understand this, but for the fact that whenever I try to find something to write with in my room, I can't. Trying to find pens in my room has traditionally been about as worthwhile as trying to bail water from the sea, but apparently my room has simply been tucking my pens away, just for the chance to regurgitate all of them at simultaneously. Good night, internet.