You know it is a desperate cry for action when you stoop to pollinating your own plants because your bored, and think it's sexy. Then again, hey there, look at all the pollen and nectar coating that stigma, why, it is just yearning for some innocent little bee to come along and help it get down with the ladies. Plants need lovin' too baby. Besides, there is no one around, and the flowers are so exposed, so free, feeling the sun warm their fertile petals, it just drives me wild! Why, look, it's an innocent vine exploring my silky leg, creeping higher, unzipping my pants. Mmmmm, I'm all tied down with no where to go, I'm so glad there aren't any bees around to do this work for me. And from then on, it just gets bizarre. Looking up plant pollination on the internet, I mean who wouldn't want to hit this:

Oh yeah, one sweet piece of ass. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to my greenhouse to, ummmm, continue wearing my pants, yeah, that's it, continue...

Indeed there have been many a great thing said. But who can forget the life-altering experience of recording yourself and figuring out that none of those great things will ever be said with a voice as retarded as you own. Of course, there are those few gods among us whose true natures are only revealed over the nets of ramblings that criss cross this massive land. One of these people is my man, the big guy himself, Tim. When he speaks, his voice booms over the lines, dripping with masculinity, exclaiming such grandeur as "For I am Tim, The Mightiest Warrior This Side of Hucksklville!" Uh, but Tim, Hucksklville is like two miles that way. "Uh, Yeah I Know And With The Pacific On The Other Side Of Me, It's Really Not A Very Big Area, But Still I Am Tim! BWAGRA!" At which point he breaks into tears and runs in little circles screaming about the importance of breast implants in race horses. Then he needs a nice forty-five minute sit in a mountain meadow on a sunny day without his shoes on. Wouldn't that do us all good? I'm for you buddy, but the only meadow I know of is well east of Hucksklville, and who knows when the Mightiest Man from that area also wants to relax himself. Tricky Tricky.

Ah yes, once again the night is my friend. It seems I have lately developed a very bad habit of simply sleeping during the day, and enjoying what little the night has to offer. This means often going hungry and getting grumpy during the day, at my friends, teachers, and generally anything else that happens to stand in my way *scowls at the elevator* I know where you go at night buddy! Down! Anyway, since it's almost morning here, I figured I might as well just stay up and enjoy breakfast. I found out that there is absolutely no one that eats Sunday morning, your either asleep, or wishing that you were, and no amount of made to order omlettes is going to make it any better. Luckily, someone thinks that this place is ugly, and needs to be covered in a thick rolling mist that you rarely see outside of a witches cauldron. Of course, as soon as the night figured out I wanted to take pictures of it and liked the current lack of visibility, it immediately tried to pull the sun up over the horizon, failed, and started crying instead. Well, mission accomplished anyway, because I don't think that photographic equipment likes to go swimming. Grand adventures in killing were had by all when thirty smelly, lonely nerds get together in an abandoned cafeteria and decide to record an album. "My lonely MAC, won't you give me that sweet sweet connection, and no Jabby! Oh No! No Jabby!" Instant classic. After the music students stormed the building and beat us into silence with their mighty instruments of steel and real talent, we decided to simply stick to childish taunts declared by fat bald guys with huge guns, and then turning said guys into piles of jib. After eleven hours of glorious fragging, the sun began to creep into the room and the pasty demons who can barely stand the powerful glow of their monitors recoil in horror and retreat into their rooms to hide behind enough caffeine to wire a whole building. Invigorated, nerded up, and way too tired, I decide that there isn't enough noise being generated by my machine, and it's time to do a little tidying up with the cable situation behind my computer. Using the vast array of tools at my disposal, namely duck tape and dental floss, I fastened my speakers to the ceiling in a fashion that can only be described as "THE ULTIMATE GHETTO RIG-UP!" Now I can enjoy glorious full surround sound, which comes in very handy with the 6 days worth of music I leeched at the LAN party. Beautiful. Since I'm sure to have questions pouring in about my remarkable engineering prowess, I will simply post the pictures of the greatest architectural feat this side of Tim's house in a few days. Until then, don't let your eye off the man, not even for a second, because when you do, he's gonna come into your house, and pee on your rug, and that just ain't right, man, cause I'm just the dude.

Alright, I think it's high time this thing gets some posts going on it. First, a few points of annoyance (yeah yeah yeah, I know, all I do here is say what I'm annoyed about, but these are more like clerical then anything else) I am sad to announce that the server hosting the cartoon about Tim has been attacked by the worst kind of internet user, little kids with nothing better to do and a few 133t scripts. Bastards. Luckily, the real Tim has not been stolen, so some day I will convince him to put some clothes on and get in front of the camera lens to pose with some schladiez. Actually, he has volunteered to do this many many times, but the schladiez just hate to have their picture taken. But that is for another post. Also, the counter is broken, which means I can't track any of you around the internet to see what kind of porn everyone looks at, and don't give me that innocent routine, we've all been 18 for years now on the internet. Indeed. Have you ever had a really great conversation that just put you into an ecstatic mood? I had one of those the other night. Couldn't help but dance around outside the building, which probably came off as rather gay, but whatever, joy overwhelming probably can't look too manly ever. But anyway, thanks to one of my special ladies Kristen, she's been around for almost 5 years now folks. Remember to clap real loud, because she's old and can't really hear so well anymore. She tries though, I guess that counts for something, just make sure not to listen to her ramblings about the wonders of potatoes. Potat. *shakes his head and just walks away*