This is so strange. I'm sitting here on a government-owned laptop at the Raddison Hotel. I took my ASVAB, I don't think I did that well, but we'll see... tomorrow I go for my physical, and we'll see if I get accepted into the air force. I hope I do. But I feel so odd. My brain feels numb, and my body feels like it's on auto-pilot. I've felt this way a few times in the past, and I hate this feeling. I'm not depressed, sad, or anything like that. Maybe I'll get into EOD.

I wonder what it's like to be blown up.

Ever have one of those days where you get up and just want to throw yourself in traffic, just for the experience?

It's gonna be one of those, I can already tell.

I have a new favorite song.

YO LIVEJOURNAL, I'M REALLY HAPPY FOR YOU AND I'MMA LET YOU FINISH, BUT MYSPACE HAD ONE OF THE BEST BLOGGING SYSTEMS OF ALL TIME!

SCOOPS!

FUCK THE NICKS!

WHERE YO CURLEH MUSTACHE AT?

MAG FUCKIN' NETO

THE MANGO SENTINEL

Tonight my worst fears came true.

Tonight I realized that what I had hoped for a long time would be the best thing to happen in all of 2009 was all for naught.

Tonight... I got home from work, greedily stabbed at the shrink wrap with the combat knife I keep on my thigh, put the disc in, and played.

Those of you who know me well enough to be my pal know I'm a Biohazard fan. Actually, I don't think fan is enough of a word to describe me. I have a vast collection of action figures, music, movies, posters, paraphanelia... I have shirts all over adorned with UBCS, White Umbrella, SRT, HFC and STARS insignias. I have a multitude of uniforms from the Biohazard films and video games hanging up in my room. When I walk out the door, I have one of my many Special Tactics and Rescue Squad (That's right I'm saying Squad now... you'll understand later) watches strapped on to me, with an Umbrella shirt on my back. IF you come over to my house, you can expect to see me wearing most of my Centurion uniform, if only because you get mad at me and punch my chest, it's you that ends up hurt.

I go nowhere without my sunglasses, and my hair is always blonde and slicked back.

I love Resident Evil.

I used to love Resident Evil.

I no longer do.

Do you know what it took to make me want to throw out my entire collection of Palisades RE figurines? It took but one instance.

Normally, when a zombie dog makes an appearance, one is able to take it out with about 5 or 6 well placed 9X19mm parabellum rounds to any place on its' person... erm... dog. Even in Resident Evil 4, the best one there was, ever has been or ever will be, those damnable things were killable without going overboard.

So here I am in some nonexistant region of Africa. And out strusts a blatant ripoff from Silent Hill, ready to do battle with me... well... two, actually. A jolly big fatass man... and a split-head dog that spews tenticles. Now, were I a 17 year old teenie bopper named Heather, this would be no real threat after a Sexy Beeam or two... even on X10 (ok maybe I exxagerate)... but no. I proceed to lay down the law with my Beretta. Then I have to switch to the ever trusty MP5... and then the Benelli. And nothing works. They don't die. They won't die. And more keep coming. And more. And more. Not in the sense of "Damn these Ganado are persistant and I LOVE IT" no, more like "...fucking respawning asshole fucks". So I have a bright idea. I'll retreat. I'll fight back from an elevated position where they won't be able to touch me.

So I bring along my trusty womanly sidekick named Sheva, and we proceed to bring the pain... wait. No we didn't. I tried to lay down the pain, and she decided to ignore me and charge headlong into a pack of James Sunderlands' sexual repression gone wild.

I would give anything in the world to have Ashley Graham back at my side again. I would kill Jesus himself to look at her, admire her 3D knockers and say "WAIT"... and she'd wait... and then I'd point my gun at her... and she'd duck... and I'd give them what for.

Instead I have a stupid cuntbag backwater fuck who uses all the ammo, all the herb, all the EVERYTHING, only to foolishly die in a situation that would've only resulted in me having to shoot a leg and watch as some dumb shit fell in a hilarious fashion, only to have the hot girl rejoin me at my side and offer to perform fellatio on me while riding a jet ski at the end of the game...

Why have you done this, Capcom? Why have you made me hate Albert Wesker? Why have you made me curse my extensive collection of everything he is, was, and ever would be? Why would you give me a reason to start dressing in something other than black all the time?

Why did you abandon me, Shinji?

In March, I'll be there. And I'll be laughing. And I'll look at all of you and say "I told you so."

And none of you will be allowed in my bunker.

So ah...I've realised something...

"It is better to live alone; there is no companionship with a fool. Let a person walk alone with few wishes, committing no wrong, like an elephant in the forest."



Ok so it isn't fully perfected. The eyes are perfect, though. All I need to do is touch up my hair, methinks.

Anyone know where I can get a Minimi?

So I got this from Heidi's thingie...figured I may as well post it myself. I'm feeling all insecure like a little emo bitch right now anyways, so why not?

1.) Everyone has weaknesses and shortcomings. Help me conquer mine by telling me one thing about myself that you think I should try to improve upon or change.
2.) Everyone also has their own strengths and virtues. Tell me what I'm doing right by pointing out one thing about me that you admire.
3.) Ask me one question about myself that you've always wanted to know, and I will answer it truthfully. It can be as serious or as silly as you like.

So...respond, make fun of me...whatever. Just be honest.

Also...I have a new addiction. Ebay.

There is a reason I swore never to go on ebay...ever. Now I've amassed a bill of almost $450. And most of it isn't even going to me.

Sometimes we make sacrifices to make people smile. My sacrifice? nothing much, really. other than school and skipping the college classes I'm paying for...there really isn't much else to do. that and worry. And lift weights. god I love this weight room. I'm looking better than usual...and I suppose that's saying something (...no I don't think highly of myself at all...)

And one more thing. You guys know I hate fanfilms, right? Especially those done wrong...like that bullshit operation Mad Jackal. Then why have I written an on-screen adaptation of RE2? I have a school...basements...abandoned warehouses....old rundown pads that nobody uses...and camera and guns. Those are things I have a lot of.

Anyone interested in taking a whack at it? I have ideas for casts. Those who I've talked to before, you know who you are.

Well...I'mma go study now...maybe finish some bits on something...hell I dunno. I'm BORED here, people! Come and visit me!

Current Mood: rejected
Current Music: Damien Rice-Smile

So...you probably know, but certain events kinda had me twisted up inside. Stuff that happenned in the last few weeks and me pretty wound up. didn't really know what to do.

though I had one person who would ALWAYS listen to me...you know who you are...and I thank you. And I want to to know I'll stick by your side through thick and thin, forever.

Also was...laughing yet disgusted inside at something else I found yesterday.

So I've kinda been going through emo shit...

So this morning, before work, I'm sitting in the tub, totally cogitating on my own life, where I'm going, what will I do to get there, will I always be alone like this, etc...the warm water washing over me...and the Cranberries comes on the radio...you know...that song where she kinda sing/yodels? I love that song...and it was so strange...but all my troubles just washed down the drain like so much dirt.

I went to work and the only thing I focused on was work. No more thinking about people and what there were doing, wy they weren't talking to me, what they were to me, what I was to them, etc.

Granted I still think about it a lot...but I was able to forget about it for awhile.