It's all a fucked reality. And today is my cat's burfday...

Hi guys! I hope that your holidays are going freaking awesome. I'm drinking beer and hanging out with the birthday tabby.

Unquestionably, beer has enjoyed remarkable popularity with casual drinkers over the recent years. Major breweries continually enjoy outstanding sales numbers from year to year and vie to reach out to beer-haters with exciting new products (Editor's note: this last statement is highly questionable). Microbreweries are thriving and hold steady in an unprecedented number. With an equal number of imports, micros are finding their ways into clubs and bars, standing shoulder to shoulder (or "bottle to bottle") with staple American brews. Anymore, it seems that there is a beer for everyone...

...Or is there? Cheap gimmicks seem the order of the day. For a brief while, it was American beers which were suplemented with additives such as taurine and ginsing. Eventually, some bright spark decided to cash in on America's collective alcoholism AND the growing popularity of energy drinks, offering "beers" such as Sparks. While these beverages might make the average drinker vomit in their mouths a little, they remain popular with partiers and people who like the greasy, sugary taste in their mouths as they savor their hangover.

But, worry not, the future is bright! Brewers are remaining vigilant in finding new ways to corner elusive demographics. While this may not be of interest to the average connisseur, these companies are targeting the sex-drives of the desperate and ugly.

Firstly, it is well known that drinkers are individuals who either:

A) Hate themselves

B) Want to meet (and subsequently bang) members of the opposite sex

C) Have real alcohol addiction

If you identified with group B, you are among 90% of all drinkers.

The act of sponsoring "mixer events" has been a staple of breweries, but that does not quite tow the line in terms of capturing the female "wine" demographic. Despite their efforts, Busch's 'Thong-a-Thon', Coor's televised mud-wrestling championship, and New Belgium's 'Pants-less Spring Break 08' have proven to be abysmal failures. Little hope is had for Samuel Adam's 'Wet Vagina Festival', coming in summer 2009. These shortcomings have been found to not be the fault of advertisers, but of the products themselves. With this in mind, several companies are supplementing thier lines with new, appealing beers engineered to enslave the palates of picky women.

A common complaint amongst many is that American beer is too watery. Now that Anheuser-Busch has been bought out by the Belgian InBev company, popularity must be maintained and they plan to enhance their product line in order to bring more women to the clubs. InBev's newest beer combines what women seek the most: alcohol and chocolate. 'Mochabrew' is their new beverage which is brewed not in water, but in pure chocolate and corn syrup. The finished product is described as a cross between a Godiva chocolate bar, a fifth of Grey Goose, and two roofies. "Mochabrew promises to find popularity amongst the skankiest of women. Additionally, it will most definitely increase the female presence in all clubs, as it will only be sold at bars and restaurants, and not at liquor or grocery stores. This will prove to be beneficial to the local economies as well as to ugly, unappealing men", says Paul Desclee, InBev Brewmaster. 

A few hundred miles to the south-east, Swiss brewer Brasserie de la Côte is taking things a bit further...

Höschendieb is being touted as the beer of the future. Targeting the negative aspects associated with drinking, Brasserie de la Côte has taken advantage of Switzerland's liberal drug laws in order to hone a beer which promises little hangover, no "beer-goggles", and absolute retention of physical and psychological control. What wonder drug has offered such a beer? Speed. There is a shit ton of speed in it. However, women will respond with favorably as speed greatly increases the libido of females. Unfortunately, males have shown to react with outstanding amounts of aggressiveness. An EU fact-finding team was formed in late 2008 to investigate the true effects of Höschendieb, namely to address the allegation that the beer was a "rape-cocktail". At the time of this article, the team has failed to produce substantial proof of their claims. Helmut VonKolsen, owner of Brasserie de la Côte, has allegedly accused the UN team of being "Cock-blocks". Regardless of the UN's findings, Höschendieb will not find it's way to American shores due to the beer's narcotic composition.

Lastly, Pabst has announced their newest beer; while not brewed expressly for women, it is intended to aid the drinker in meeting women. The yet-unnamed beer is understood to be a six-pack of classic Pabst Blue Ribbon that includes a vial of ether and a pair of latex gloves. When reached for comment, Brewmaster Mark Korst declined to comment on how the "promotional" products were intended to be used. Unlike the EU's investigation to Höschendieb, the American government seems to be fine with the new Pabst beer.

Love, Dan & Dirty

Here's my take on the topic du jour... First, you must watch this video:

http://www.adultswim.com/video/index.html?section=Other&collectionID=8a2505951d1a2751011d261779af007d

Just watch it, it's only like 3:30 long and is funny as hell. If you require a more in-depth study, just watch all five of Babycakes' Diaries. Continuing...

If you did watch the video, then you most probably see that Musichopper is startlingly similar to Babycakes. My theory: Musichopper was the inspiration for Babycakes. I shall now illustrate the most damning arguments:

1) Babycakes is large, fat, and bald-headed... Sound familiar? That's right: Musichopper.

2) Both Musichopper and Babycakes reference drinking beer and eating shitty food all the time.

3) Both seem to have a weird, misguided understanding of sex.

4) Babycakes plays D&D; Musichopper plays Guildwars. Interesting...

5) Both are musicians (in their own minds at the very least).

I will add more should they present themselves.

So I pose to you: what are your speculations regarding Babycakes and Musichopper? Are they the same people (they have never been seen in one place at the same time). Are their similarities coincidence? Is he the related to Babycakes? While we may never know, your speculations are definitely of interest to us, here, at the institute.

P.S.:You didn't watch the video, did you?

I'm not going to attempt to be funny here or anything; these are only going to be my thoughts.

I am fucking sick of everything. I'm trying to enter the workforce and it is driving me mad. Today, I went to an interview to be a manager at a local fitness center; it would be a great job, but I doubt I'll land it. Additionally, I've applied at roughly fifty places lately. This is a horrible area and time to find a job. Fuck this! I don't want a bunch of DVDs, an XBox360, a HD-TV, or a new car! Dude, I've been living without that stuff with no problem forever.

Really, I know that I'm unoriginal and stupid for saying this, but I want something else... I don't want to live my early life working for Fred Meyer while eating macaroni and cheese, in hopes of advancing to a slightly better job where I can afford to eat out at shitty restaurants almost every night. In fact, I don't want anything of that nature. It's not the fact that I was raised in the 90's that makes me not want to wear a suit, it's just the reality that I cannot be happy with anything ordinary. My happiest moments have been those that normal people would consider miserable.

As a kid, I wanted to be in the military, because of my Army parents. Later, I realized that the reason I have always desired this was due to the fact that I craved adventure; still naive, I then decided to be an adventurer. Sadly, being an adventurer is ridiculously hard to achieve nowadays. There's very little left to explore. Thus, I reverted to wishing to be an "Army type".

Then that day finally came, and I raised my right hand and enlisted in the Marine Corps. Surely, this was the job that I was looking for. And I waited and waited... Still, I have yet to do anything. Now really, I don't want to go fuck anyone up, I don't want to get fucked up myself; I just want to experience what I joined for. The longer I languish, the more I feel like (as over-used and trite this is) a stallion used to pull a milk cart. What was the point of my previous years in service? It's not like I haven't been in long enough.

I really wish (for my own personal, selfish reasons) that I had a real fight to make my own. I wish there were Nazis or Communists or hippies to be fought. I wish there was a just some conflict that I could take to. For some reason, from day one, I just felt like this was my key to survival. Laugh at me or whatever, it makes no difference to me.

I'm young and stupid, but discomfort has been a way of life for me. Absolute discomfort makes you seriously realize how lucky you are, and helps appreciate the things you have previously enjoyed. I desire discomfort, and I desire stress, and I desire unhappiness if it is in the name of something worthwile. I want to fight for something that is sacred to myself.

Well, fuck it; I've been half crazy, am half drunk, and seriously depressed. I just want to do that which I feel will mean something to me.

Now make fun of me... I know you will. 

Howdy!

I've been getting some comments and PMs that indicate that I must somehow view myself as "hardcore". While I really don't care what most of you think, I do hate the accusation as I cannot stand anti-psuedo-hardcore people. I appreciate that the blog section isn't a personal bulleting board, I MUST stress unto readers that I am about as hardcore as the cast of The Golden Girls.

Here's a breakdown of the average day in Haus Danzig:

I usually awake from 8:00am to 2:00pm, before showering and brushing my teef (only if I feel frisky). Then I feed the cat. Thereafter, it is daily job-hunt time. After about ten minutes of job-hunting, I commence "special time". Special time consists of watching Father Ted shows with my cat while drinking tea. Usually, this extra-awesome rollercoaster of thrills lasts until I pass out in the early morning. Even better, I do all of this while wearing big, fluffy slippers that are shaped like tigers.

Don't believe me? Here's what I did so far today:

12:00pm - Time to mother-fuckin' wake up!

1:00-1:45pm - Well deserved nap.

1:45-3:00pm - Daily Aquateen Hunger Force appreciation period.

3:00-4:30pm - Half-heartedly working out.

4:30-present - Watching Stalag 17 (amazing film) with my cat (amazing cat) while eating garlic bread (fucking amazing).

Near future - More movies, reading, and sleeping.

So hopefully anyone questioning my bad-assed-ness (?) now understands that I'm a boring dude who cannot even possibly aspire to be "hardcore" (unless boringness is somehow hardcore). So next time Danzig is sounding as though he might be hardcore, just remember that he is wearing ridiculous little-kid slippers.   

Due to the urging of certain members (you know who you are), I am writing a blog once again. I cannot guarantee the quality of the following, as I'm fairly drunkified (doing the one-eyed-squint-thing).

Anyways, who wants to give me a job? Anyone?! I fucking need it. Drinking beer until blind-drunk is fine for seven or eight months, but it gets old after a little while.

So, yeah, my time has been comprised of applying for positions (the "wobbly H" in particular) and learning Zippo tricks.

Seriously, I urge everyone (including even Angie and Kriss) to get a Zippo. Not only is it seriously cool and classy, but many adventure movies have proven that Zippos can get you out of nearly any dangerous situation. Be it burning through ropes or lighting bad-guys' cars on fire, Zippos will always make you look badass.

Other than that, I have just been hanging out with my cat and drinking. Hey, there's nothing wrong with that! Just because Toby (the cat) and I are drinking buddies doesn't mean that I'm "odd". He's just a good tabby who understands my problems.

Well, for some reason, someone decided to make me a Tank Commander. That's pretty fucking sweet to the max. I may not have alot going on, but tanking is my favorite thing, so I am happy. I will miss destroying stuff with the main gun and machine guns, but I will survive... At least I get a big mother-fucking machine gun out of it (M2HB for the win).

My best friend was made a TC at the same time. People always joke that we're gay because we hang out so much, so we're naming our tanks "BFF 1" and "BFF 2" to have fun with the situation. We're not gay, we just have a "bro-mance".

Hmm... other than that, I have nothing. Well, I guess I could report that my cat has farts which could cripple a horse, but I'm sure that nobody wants to hear that. I guess there's snow here... I stamped a set of big titties into my back yard; that will be fun when it melts last. I also took the opportunity to write stuff in the snow on my neighbor's cars; I am particularly fond of "Boner-Mobile" and "Pussy Hat". I doubt that anyone knows who it is yet.

Well, my life is boring. Anyone need any recommendations for good books? I sure have alot of those...

Hey, the other night, I was out with my fugly-ass friend celebrating my sham of an engagement.

My fiance is a total toolbag who is covered in with a coarse coat of hair (much like a Brillo pad) and has an inverted penis, so I was looking to find some guy willing to liquor me up, take me home, and stick a squash in my oiled-up starfish. Oh, who am I kidding? I didn't want to use any oil. The only thing that mattered was that he finished the debauchery by shitting across my forehead. Mmmm... Nutella suprise.

Then the Bridge Troll (my friend who I drag around for moral support) started cock-blocking the only dude who seemed willing to rub my nipples with a cheese-grater. Unfortunately, I was too drunk to protest and just watched idly as Grendel the She Beast pissed MY chances away! And to think I waxed my asshole for this!

Next time I go out, my friend Vomit Face will not accompany me. I'm just going to go out with my bacon-scented perfume on and the squash already half inserted in my treasure cove.

The Wildebeast can sit home alone and flick her bean to Sleepless in Seattle again.

Sorry, but I had to jump on the bandwagon...

My room mate was on my computer today and stumbled upon a webcam site. He noticed that you could talk to the women until someone payed for a private session and called me over to look (we love causing problems and saw much potential). This will not sound too amazing until you try it, but here's what we did:

The average showing had about ten nasty dudes typing some out-there shit to the women. They read with the disinterest we all have reserved for working any type of job. Occasionally, they would type a response or wave at someone... until they saw what we wrote:

*Note* We couldn't copy and paste because it was not allowed, so these are all reconstructed from memory.

#1

Guest78: take off yr shirt

Guest36: do you do toys?

Guest92: touch yourself!

Guest77: How do you feel about Michael Bolton? Does he turn you on? Ugh... I'm touching myself and thinking about Bolton...

Guest34: What?

#2

Guest34: show us you tits!

Guest53: can you do watersports?

Guest14: flash me your vajoina

Guest77: Last year, I was swimming in the Gulf of Mexico... I got raped by a dolphin.They do that, you know... 

#3

Guest74: i want u to swallow my cum

Guest46: i speik sex englis to u

Guest77: My favorite cereal is definitely Reese's Peanutbutter Crunch, but it gives me hot farts.

Guest64: want to suck me off?

Guest77: Oh! The farts are so dirty. So greasy. I just puked in my mouth.

#4

Guest21: nice tits baby!

Guest59: im so hot 4 you now...

Guest61: do u like too suck dick?

Guest77: Today, I pooped in my bathttub. I had to smash it down the drain with my toes. Strangely satisfying. (This got the best responses from the girls)

So yeah, this isn't really that funny, but I promise that you will have a blast if you do it yourself. The responses we got from the ladies were awesome. Try it and have fun!

* I LOVE MILK

* I HATE ZOMBIES

* I'M TOTALLY NOT A CHRISTIAN

* TOM CRUISE IS A SWEETHEART

* I HATE PUNK, INDIE, ELECTRO, SCREAMO, HARDCORE, METAL, ACOUSTIC...

* I HAVE�0 PIERCINGS AND NOT COUNTING...

* I HAVE A NUMBER OF TATTOOS

* I HATE SMALLVILLE

* MY FAV DRINK IS ABSOLUTELY NOT�SAILOR JERRY'S RUM AND DIET PEPSI

* I LOVE KIDS

* I'M NOT A BITCH

* I ALWAYS GO TO DISNEYLAND OR DISNEYWORLD

* I HATE VEGETABLES

* I SO THINK SCENE KIDS SHOULD BE SHOT

* FUCK COLORS

* I PISS ON SANDWICHES

* I ONLY TYPE IN CAPS BECAUSE IT BRINGS EVEN MORE ATTENTION TO MY INSIPID BLOGS WHICH I SMASH OUT FOR E-REP POINTS. NOBODY CARES ABOUT ME, BUT FUCK IT, I NEED A SWAG PACK.

Sorry, I feel guilty about this one; it was too easy and lacking in imagination. In my defense, I am supremely bored.

I am finally moved in to my apartment in Boise (actually, Meridian). I am attempting to get comfy here, but it is slow in coming. In an effort to integrate myself into the community, I posted an ad on Craigslist:

Come build a fort with me! I just moved and have an excess of moving boxes... perfect for making a fort. Seeing as I am seeking employment and am trying to save money (read: "not going to bars this weekend"), I have nothing better to do.

My plan is to construct it in the living room and use it as a shelter in which to drink vodka, pet the cat, listen to Turbonegro,�and eat macaroni and cheese (the breakfast of champions/sustinance of the poor).

Sounds good, right? So if you are interested, contact me. Previous fort-building experience preferred. Please bring some materials. Also, you can contact me with job opportunities (especially in the fort-building / fort-contracting realm).

It has been about four hours and I have gotten zero (0) replies. What a bunch of dicks, right?! Fuck this community.

However, I cannot complain on the quality of the womens here; tons of hotties. Unfortunately, I only see hotties in traffic. Whenever I go and shoot pool with my room-mate (at the only bar in the area), there are nothing but bulging young women with premature front-butts. Even if I were so inclined to hit on them (not really), there are always about fifteen wannabe-gangsta black guys trying to give them hugs. Seriously, the only fifteen black guys in Idaho must hang out there.

Job-hunting blows camel chode. I even applied to the prison as a guard. Hell, they could even hire me as an inmate and I wouldn't care; three meals a day, no rent, and all the midnight spooning I can stand is starting to sound outstanding.

Oh yeah... my neighbor is a bag of dicks.

So my Idaho experience really just comes down to me sitting around watching faux-court shows on our�two channels, wearing my big tiger slippers ("The Beasts"), and drinking vodka out of the bottle. This might be bearable, except that I fucking hate vodka. I just drink it because I am quite sick and would rather be drunk.

One thing I find funny about Idaho: it has been in excess of 50 degrees daily here.�On the local news, the weather man always talks about how they need snow (nobody needs snow). On the local news in Montana, during winter, the average weather report features the weatherman shirtless with magic-marker warpaint on his face,�shouting feverish prayers�to an ancient�unnamed�deity�in appeals for�no snow. Instead of a green-screen featuring a weather map, the anchorpeople in the background calmly�slit the throat of a baby goat while the grips stand around in a circle speaking in tongues. Their ceremony goes unnoticed; we always got snow.

So there is a brief summary of my recent weeks, hope you liked it.

Now, I'll go chase my cat around the apartment; it is one of my few remaining�joys.

An addendum: When buying macaroni and cheese, keep in mind "cheese-retention". Always buy spirals or the kids boxes. I find that the Pokemon shaped noodles retain cheese best.

Further, ALWAYS opt for the classic preparation. The difference is unmistakable.

Howdy, all you awesome miscreants!

I am back. Just got the interwebs connected tonight. New apartment and new city are awesome. Did I miss anything here?

Normally, I would blog and try to be funny, but I am mondo-sick right now. The last few days have been comprised of job-hunting and sitting around whilst listening to Morphine and drinking whiskey (we Irish know that it does wonders for a cold, or at least makes you feel way sicker than any cold ever could and therefore, better). God, I hate life. Ugghhhhhh...

Well, I'm glad to be back and will hopefully write a blog soon.

Later, G's.

So it was tonight (last night?), and I went to my friends' house to say goodbye.

They invited me to a Thanksgiving dinner at a friend's house; I went. It was my last night in Missoula and everyone wanted me there. I gave a ride to the young woman whom I have had a middle-school-crush on since my freshman year in college.

We showed up and began drinking. Then we drank some more. Finally, it was time for food. I did not eat because I had just had an amazing, free-range, grass-fed steak (I had another one, but left it on the top of my car*). The whole thing was kind of a kind of punk-rock-thanksgiving. Overall, it was pretty fun.

Here's the breakdown:

7:07: People ate.

7:08: I petted the cat.

7:56: We all drank some more.

8:01: I petted the cat some more.

5:43: We had our first collective experience with time travel.

8:06: Everyone else played King's Cup while I petted the cat.

8:36: We all had pie.

Oct. 2, 1948: We all fought dinosaurs and faries before returning to the future (then) at 8:45 Nov. 23, 2008.

9:03: Almost everyone went to smoke weird drugs.

9:20: I petted the cat some more.

10:07: Some stuff happened.

10:53: I apologized to a guy whom I choked out last year. He was totally cool.

10:57: Petted the cat some more. That is one cool cat.

11:04: This waitress came in with a bike and said "Is this your bike?". My friend said, "Oh yes, it was a gift from my son. It's a vintage 1982..." The waitress looked annoyed and cut him off. "Well it has to go, stanksack." and walked away. "1982?" I proclaimed, "That's older than me!" Tee hee hee! Stanksack didn't seem amused.

11:43: I took the girl who I like (and think likes me (don't know if she's a lesbian or bi-sexual (there is a large difference in terms of how much she would like my wang))) and her friend home, jamming out to Turbonegro.

12:04: Got home and began playing the guitar while watching "The Swamp Monster" on TV (horrible movie). Petted my cat.

The near future: Going to bed.

This blog was a total abortion, so please forgive me.

*If you live in Missoula, MT and find a premium, free-range, grass-fed steak on the road, I forgot it was on top of my car when I took off. I really want it back; the first steak was amazing.

An Addendum: To my Ebaum's friends: I may be offlline for an uncertain amount of time. Hopefully, I will be back soon (to the collective dismay). Take care and happy blogging!

Firstly, is anyone else having issues with messaging? I've been sending messages to several people (I'm looking at you, Savcam, Ellimem, Whynot, and Identity), but get the feeling that they are not being sent. This would be no suprise, as EBW always gives me a hard time. Hell, maybe I'm just unpopular...

That brings me to my right hand: I can't feel it. It functions fine, but is devoid of feeling. This has been going on for two days with no reasonable explanation. The only cool thing about this is effortless "strangers". But seriously, what's the deal?

Hey, anyone want a stranger?

Also, you wanna hear something disgusting? You do?! Awesome... So my grandfather is in the hospital and they're poking and stroking him with a bunch of stuff and junk. Here's the sick part: doctors removed 1 2/3 liters of fluid from each of his lungs. Gross! That, kids, is why you don't smoke. Also, on the subject of grossness, when I visited, he was totally laying in bed with his balls hanging out. I seriously puked in my mouth a little.

As lame and angry as he is, he did say something amazingly awesome when I was there the first time. This is roughly the exchange between him and a hot nurse:

Him: You know what's the most useless thing on a woman like you?

Hot Nurse With Sweet Tits (expecting to be offended): What?!

Him: An old man like me.

Okay, so you didn't laugh, you bastard. Trust me, it was classic when witnessed.

In other news, I'm jumping on the bandwagon and trying to stop smoking. We'll see how that goes. The thing about smoking is that I enjoy it; I never smoked for any other reason. If I had the money for Black Tar Heroin, I'd probably do that too.

Oh, so I got a new phone. It was like $300 ($105 after rebate) and does a bunch of stuff I couldn't care less about. There's so many features, I'd be suprised if it doesn't do your taxes and analyze stool samples. If it's not broken in three months, I'll be surprised. I am the destroyer of phones!

Lastly, I talked to my "boss" and might be a Tank Commander as early as December. Sweet! Take that, everyone else in the world!

Seriously lastly, I made some Fetuccini Alfredo and it is the bee's knees.

That is the last 72 hours of my life encapsulated in several lame, rambling paragraphs. I know it doesn't matter to you, but I did it because I felt like it and I could; this is America an it is my right. Should you disagree, you are a godless, Communist bastard and I will kill you. Kill you with Fist-Fuck!

WOLVERINES!

*ETA*: If your name is Zeke Peterson and you are missing a red hat with a "M" on it, it is in my yard, beneath my mailbox. Act fast because I saw a squirrel stuffing something in it. God knows what he put in there. Also, who writes their name in their hat? Second graders. Further, who names their kid "Zeke"?!

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 ghettofabweapons.com. 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...

I know this is a very morbid subject, but I only pose it out of curiousity. Please don't jump to any conclusions about me, this blog does not reflect my intentions.

So yeah, suicide: how would you do it?

I have thought about it sometimes. I guess if I were to kill myself, I would not want my family to suffer knowing that I was dead. Most likely, I would try to convince them that I had to quickly leave the country permanently due to some kind of issue: cops are after me, I joined the French Foreign Legion, pursued by ghosts, whatever. It would be very hard convincing them; definitely the most difficult task involved. 

To provide ample evidence, I would take the items from my house which would normally get snatched up and packed if travelling in a hurry. I would absolutely NOT give anything away, just leave with the travelling bags. Ensuring that there is nothing in the bags to identify the owner, I'd drive about 100 miles away and chuck them in a dumpster. The one thing that I would bring for later is a pistol with the serial number ground off with a Dremel tool. One final stop before phase two: the bank. Remove all of my savings.

The third phase would be to drive far away from anything, especially family. Personally, I would go down south to Arizona or New Mexico. Once in the desert, I would pull over and strip the identification panels and license plates from my car. The thought had crossed my mind that it would be easier to file a police report and claim the car was stolen before leaving home, but that could bring unwanted difficulties and too much attention. Next,  destroy  my  wallet. Once finished, drive out to a pre-determined place where the disposal of a car would be relatively easy. Reservoirs would be my choice. Dump the car. Then, just because I would love to do this, burn all of the cash I withdrew from the bank.

If it is cool out (winter or a summer evening/morning), walk FAR away. The point is to get so far that nobody will find you for years. Personally, I would drive to the hills before ditching the car on the way; nobody would find you out there for decades most likely. Then a temple-shot with the .45.

Now I seriously am not suicidal, it is just a thing I think about when I'm waiting to get my car fixed or at the dentist's office. Seriously, I'm not going to kill myself or anything, so don't PM me telling me to do it. Everyone muses on how to carry out the perfect murder, so why should your own self-murder be unworthy of ponderance? So what would you do? Go out with a bang looking for attention or do it on the down-low? How would you do it?

Also, on the subject of suicide... it really pisses me off when people say "suicide is for cowards". If someone really wants to off themself, would they really care? I sure as hell wouldn't. I don't believe that after your suicide you are going to reflect upon it in shame. Would you really care what people thought of you after you were dead? Hell no. Legacies are a hollow sham.

Sic Transit Gloria