Back From the Grave

Sup, G's? You might notice that I am now a newer, "fresher" danzig77. Some might say I'm posing, but in all reality, I'm officially "ghetto-fab". All will be explained later. Still, in the future, kindly address me as "Funky-Fresh-Groove-Master Danzig". I realize that I totally committed several syntax sins there, but I'm too fucking fly to care. I'm just smashing this blog out for fun and the few people that actually care. Spelling and grammar are not a huge concern at the moment, so don't bitch about it, ése.

Anyways, I have been gone and here's why and what happened:

First, I went to Boise to attend the Marine Corps Ball. Upon arrival at my unit, I was appointed the Platoon Training NCO, but I have revised my title and am now "The Supreme Overlord of Powerpoint". That's exactly what I'm going to be doing: tons of Powerpoint presentations. Oh, the glory of uniformed service...

On to the Ball... I was in the ceremony which sucked (mostly because the First Sergeant wouldn't let us drink beforehand if we were in the ceremony). After all was done, I soothed myself between drags from my hip-flask (ingeniously made to match our uniform for total covert drinking) and overpriced gin and tonics. Fast foreward to the bar... Walked into the first establishment and four cupons for free drinks were thrust into my wee hands by a ogre-ish bouncer. Soon, I was in Drunk-Town.

I don't remember anything except the CO giving me beers and dancing with the Company Gunny. Oh, I do recall my best friend puking all over another Marine's Dress Blues. I hated that douchebag anyway. I'm glad he got puked on. Everything else is a blank until I woke up in my car at 2PM the next afternoon. It was freezing; my uniform was wet above the elbows. I do recall falling in a puddle. Anyways, my friend picked me up and we spent the next few days either drinking or laying on the floor of his apartment groaning in pain.

Let's see... Oh, that brings me to my gangster-ness: I finalized everything for my new apartment. It happens to be in a small bedroom community populated by people working at a local computer company and Mexican gangsters. So, since I don't work at the company, I might as well become a gangsta.

The apartment is awesome. Tons of storage space (ghetto-ass gangsters LOVE storage space... ya' know... for our Glocks and 40's and stuff). I'm moving in with another Marine I know. So far, we just have a knife set in the kitchen and a lawn gnome. We'll finish moving in someday.

I just got home from Boise about two hours ago and found the house empty (remember: I am my grandfather's unofficial care-taker). After calling around, I found out that my grandfather went to the hospital because of a possible kidney infection. Turns out that he does have a screaming infection and pneumonia thrown in for some zest. Hopefully all will turn out well for him.

Other than that, not alot has happened. Oh, I got a sweet variable-power sniper scope. I also yelled at a guy until he cried; that was mondo-cool. Normally, I am not the one to get pissed off by anything, but I am damn good at freaking out on people when they deserve it. While I do hate myself, I appreciate that I have a freaking awesome yelling voice.

Yeah, other than that, not much to report. How has everything been around here? I imagine a ton of post-election grab-assing. Yeah, the election was another reason we drank so heavily for so long. I see that Savcam got a feature; good show, man! Anything else "jiggy in the hizzy"?

A serious side note: the "ghetto-fab" thing reminded me of some personal trivia that you might be quizzed on later. Me and the guy that pukes on people's uniforms used to have a website called We were a (partially) legitemate site that sold handcrafted weapons for the discerning but broke hood-rat. Some of our wares included

-Sharp piece of glass partially wrapped in electrical tape (AKA: Glass Shank)

-Sharpened plastic spoon (AKA: Prison Shiv)

-The board with a nail in it (AKA: The Board With a Nail In It)

-Brick on a rope (AKA: Tijuana Face-Breaker)

We sold zero (0) weapons but got tons of positive comments. I can only attribute the demise of our unlicensed (and most probably illegal) company to the lack of widespread internet usage in lower-income urban areas. We still have a bunch of weapons sitting around in boxes, so if you are over 18 and want a sharpened stick or something, just PM me; I'll send you a catalog.


Later, thugs.


*Edit*: I don't know why that Blanknot's Army avatar is still there; it shoudn't be. Well, I guess I'll go and make some Compton-style bacon. Maybe some magic will happen and it'll change by the time I come back...

Uploaded 11/10/2008
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