So here we are, once again delaying the inevitable slap-together rickshaw job of an assignment that I will never get out of doing. But until then, I am here, with my adoring public. Put your hand down Tim, I know your the only one here. Anyway, today I got a nice little invention that allows me to control the subtle annoyance of my computer's noise level. It doesn't bother me, and if it did I'd just put on some headphones and jam away to Dahler Mendhi's newest hit on 97 and one third speed ultra shellac vinyl. This little knob is my path to the domination of the world. How you ask? Well first of all, women love power, because first you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the women. And I'm pretty sure that a fancy knob to control fan speed is in there somewhere too. And after you have women dancing nakedly around you, you either take over the world, or you don't care, for what other reason could there be to take over the world anyway? Global domination is nothing without ladies, and defiantly Schladiez, the thing is it's sort of like a Catch-22, because you want to rule the world to have Schladiez, but you need them in order to take over the world, and once you have them, why bother? People would just shoot your Schladiez, and your body doubles would probably constantly be sneaking in free lap dances and such. It's just too much of a hassle. I can barely control the world in a game of Risk, let alone three billion men bitching at me about the absence of the other half of the world's population as they take turns dancing around my fancy moon palace made of cheese. Mmmm. The rings of Saturn would probably make good tortillas, so once again, your set.

Ah the joys of having a college roommate are finally catching up to me it seems. Not only is he a permanent slob, electing to sleep under a pile of his own filth rather then simply rearrange a few things, but this pile of crap has begun to increasingly encroach on my side of the desk. On top of that, having hoped to get a full night's sleep tonight, he has decided otherwise. I don't see how but apparently being a zombie all day is somehow advantageous in his studies, although I never see him go to class, so whatever. Anyway, I had decided to go to bed at the nice comfortable time of 12:30. He and his girlfriend are still awake, but aren't bothering me any, so sleep comes fairly quickly. A little under three hours later I awaken to find them still crashing about the room randomly moving things and putting clothes away. Oh well, had to take a big piss anyway. I return to my warm citadel of slumber, only to be kept awake for the next hour by the flickerings of television, and the noise of retarded MTV hosts telling me how bustin' some music video that has been out for months now still is. Great. By this time I have lost the ability to sleep, opting instead to take a nice shower and hopefully reinvigorate myself until the day begins. There are a few things you never want to find in your shower, and pretty high up on that list is a clump of hair in the drain. Now I'm not sure what kind, but there was also a pair of scissors hanging there, so one can only assume the worst, which is that someone figured their balls weren't getting enough air and decided that the look of an eleven year old boy was attractive to someone. Shuddering I retreat downstairs for a morning paper and some breakfast, which has led me to this point, where I am walking out of the door and off to German class, for the first time in about two weeks. Tschuss.

And now, ghetto-rig theater proudly presents: One poor guys final attempt at not having to spend more money on his machine. Observe as I take this ordinary piece of cardboard, possibly from a box, possibly from some kind of super ultra box, perhaps even containing lasers! We just take this cardboard and wrap it around the big hot thing, and around the blowing cool fan, and eureka, noticeable results! But will it be enough, can air truly ever provide enough cool coldness to quench the mighty Athlon's thirst for destroying us all with its fiery tendrils of heat? Probably not, but hey, that sucks! Indeed. Now excuse me, I have to go cry, maybe water cooling truly is the only answer.

Our lives are like two strings, tangled, criss-crossed, knotted, even that wired double sheep-shank which I don't quite understand, and the only way to get through it all is with a pair of scissors, and scissors cut through cloth, cloth like your pants, and in the end, isn't that what it's all about? Le grille? what the hell is that! And now, 3, 2, 1 let's jam.

The march of war! I am getting very tired of everything needing a label on it which reads something like "May have been manufactured in a plant which resides in a state where at one point or another someone with a minor political position owned an elephant tusk that may have belonged to an elephant which ate a peanut sometime after 1977. Affiliated." Please note that Klevar's yell has been forever silenced by the fact that old people that will remain nameless can no longer hear things due to missing hearing implants. That and the rush of things dragging on the floor. And let it be known now that I will reveal the greatest secret in the world, known to none but myself, and three other clerks of this pet store. Ctrl + i, makes things italicized. WOW! Think of the shift in world powers that will happen due to this information's released. Hulk attacks and random bull sightings will go through the roof. So now I must go, and try stop this terror with my assortment of peanut products. Mmmmm, crunchy.

Woot, I can now earn fat cash by selling my bodily fluids! Now now, not what your thinking, its just plasma. The special stuff is still on reserve for ladies only. Anyway, what am I going to do with my new found riches? Maybe I could get a new album on vinyl every week, and still have enough left over for a burger over at Greasy Joe's burger and lobster shanty. Oh how I wish there was such a place. Lobersterburgers, it'll soon be the newest retro-chic-fad-hippie-yuppie-whino freak thing to eat. Horrific. Well, for those of you that don't know, tomorrow is my birthday (hehe, for those that don't know, only like 4 people read this thing) and if anyone wants to say anything of interest to me, those four people should already know how to contact me. The rest of you can simply send money through Paypal to ce0018@unt.edu and I'll be sure to respond with a naked picture of some chick, or me, whichever you request. Anyway, It's time for some nice new clean and crisp vinyl, albeit still on the old turntable, it sounds much better then any of your fancy CDs any day. As a special treat, my new turntable gets here tomorrow, which is nice because I get a gift on my birthday, but also sucks because my dad will probably give me shit for spending money, that is if he actually comes back from the land of smiles and chocolate. Mmmm, giant chocolate cake in the mail. Mad props go to my mom for the excellent use of cake in sending me a birthday package. Now to go replenish my waters in order to further drain myself for cash. Exquisite. *passes out*

The rain comes down heavy and cool, washing over everything, breeching the defenses of even the mighty trenchcoat. Little can be done to stop it. To add insult to the cool chill creeping through my body, the reason for venturing forth on such an eve is missing. No one is to be found, the entire mammoth building abandoned. Utter defeat as the walk back to my warm, dry room is filled with peril, umbrellas strike from every which way, yet none offer protection. People fleeing away from the night, as darkness falls and the rain gets thicker. Broken reflections of the lights above as bullets of water slam into the ground in a torrential attack that few can withstand. Soon water will swallow us all, leaving behind a pristine flat surface of endless calm. The sun is of no use, as it hugs it's blanket of clouds closer around itself for weeks on end. Water. Capsules of light zoom past the darkened corner where a flare of fire is seen rising, rising in defiance of the wet darkness. Soon extinguished as the clouds get darker, for no one can stand against this barrage of clean, crisp beauty. Even now it invades my home, dripping to the floor, threatening to swell and overcome me, lest I keep up my defenses. Ironically enough the tale ends as a warm shower of water washes over me, steam instead of clouds, warmth instead of cold. Water water everywhere, why don't we have a drink?

When they call for me I'll be sitting at my desk, with a stick in my hand wearing a Hawaiian shirt singing my my my how the time does fly when you know your gonna sleep by the end of the night, ba ba ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba, *drum clash* Today I discovered the healing power of words, at least, the special powers of words in another language. So here we are, another Tuesday, another night of not smoking the hookah. Unacceptable, I mean come on, after all the shit I went through to get it (see archives) we should at least smoke it once a month. It's not even that cold outside, and besides, the cold makes the smoke last longer anyway, so that no one can see you shiver as a cloud of smoke that could only be properly animated by Charles Schultz shrouds your mysterious form. Exquisite. Someday soon I will find a quality image host, lest the tragic event of the lost cartoon be repeated *crosses himself then laughs and burns down a church* and then everyone will be able to see all of my pictures in their crooked glory! No one ever told me that the little bubble on the tripod was actually good for anything except for storing little fish. One day I will reclaim the night, but until that day, stank-pills call me to my bed, where far too few Schladiez await me.

If anyone has ever seen Evil Dead or Evil Dead 2: This time it's just like Evil Dead, they know that Bruce Campbell's only real enemies in those movies were bookshelves. They are the only things he really ever got into fights with or that he really ever even came into contact with. Well, that and the whole wall full of blood thing, but hey, that happens in ever horror movie. Anyway, I figured if you ever wanted to defeat Bruce Campbell in an all-out super brawl, you would just have to take him to the Library of Congress. Think about it, that thing is full of bookshelves, so they would probably just kill him instantly. It's like Superman and kryptonite, except that Bruce Campbell has a chainsaw for an arm, making him vastly superior. I mean come on, how often do you need to stop a train anyway? So yeah, in the match of Bruce Campbell versus The Library of Congress, I would have to say: Library of Congress in an astonishing victory that rips through the fabric of the space-time continuum and leads to Medieval Knights being able to read all about everything they screwed up about. Douglas Adams would be proud.

Alas, my poor gambling addiction. At least I think I have one, it's hard to tell when you don't actually have any money to gamble with. Luckily the measly sum that I placed on the outcome of the Super Bowl ended up with me breaking about even. It would have been awesome however if in the last four seconds of the game, New England intercepted it's own kickoff, and scored at least four more points to beat the spread. But I think that has only happened like once. Eh, Blackjack will get me back to square one. Excellent. Science fiction is amazing, in that it can so profoundly tie people together, that all previous prejudices can be forgotten, even some brass knuckles to the balls in a fist fight. Brian, you are like jesus, only much, much taller, and maybe even a bit nicer. And you know German. So I guess you aren't really like jesus at all. Damn, and I thought we were all finally saved. At least the twinkie factory survived.

The greatest trick someone ever pulled, is convincing people that donating blood is all about helping people. When you think about it, there is so much more to it then that, you get that great feeling of light-headedness and the inability to go up more then one flight of stairs at a time, it's like drugs, but it's free! That and they do all kinds of useful things for you like telling you your blood type. I am AB+ which only 3% of the population has. For those who doubted before that I was special, look to the blood! Tasty, tasty blood. I wonder if they test for vampire tendencies before your allowed to work for a place like that? Because I would have all of my employees carry around silver bullets. No guns though, just the bullets. It will teach them to throw really hard. In my infinite wisdom I have decided to put money on the Super Bowl, but it's really just because I love to gamble. Mmmm, nothing like a sweet shot of blackjack to get you going in the morning. So yeah, go *checks what he wrote down* Patriots, and hell, why don't we all score plenty of points this game? Excellent. Anyway, If I do really well, I am going to buy this, unless of course someone wants to buy it for me. Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Anyone? Fine, I'll buy it myself. Well, it's about time to go watch the game, eat lots of really bad food, and get into a fist fight with Brian over who is taller. You can't prove that seven feet is taller then six feet, especially not WHEN I CUT OFF YOUR LEGS! HAHAHAHA!