I've been planning to go snowboarding for what, three months now? The first time, it was a no go, school and the lot, and now I'm dying. I have some sort of respiratory infection so my lungs are filling with a stinky fluid. But you can't be 100% sure about these things when you can't go to the doctor. I'm sure josh will soon note how he couldn't go this time because of my death like state. It does blow a great deal. I want to scrape it out with a steak knife, but I know that will just cause a whole new set of problems. The worst part is this is the only vacation time I'll be getting till next year and I've wasted it bed ridden. SCREW YOU! INABILITY TO CURE MY SELFNESS... I think I'm going to pass out again. I am full of so much rage, if I spit this crap out in the toilet it looks like I coughed up a condom. I need medical insurance...

Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

One of our Office Specialists returned from vacation with a huge “cold sore” on her lip. Needless to say I could just let this go….





A Very Tina Christmas
(To the tune of Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer)

Tina, the Herp Lipped OS,
had a very shiny sore.
And if you ever saw it,
you could watch it fester and grow.
All of the other staff members,
Used to point and stare at it.
They never let poor Tina,
Share any of their drinking cups.
Then one long and boring day,
Diane came to say:
“Tina with your blister so grande,
why don’t you brighten up our Monday!”
Then all of the office staff noticed,
And from the office they began to flee.
Tina, the Herp Lipped OS,
You’ll go down on history… like the pony!


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

I've been trying to think of guerrilla art flyers for our own project mayhem, I figure this would work if it was just blown up to take up and entire 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper:

The world is full of pain, hate, and anger. We are the ones who are tired of the filth, and yet we are the residue of said filth. If you scream to the heavens or slam angry fist into the earth you will always accomplish the same. You have nothing left to believe in, you have nothing to hold on to, you only have your self, you only have your nothing. Fight conformity. Fight complacency. You've wasted this much of your life, how much more will you? How much longer until you're 40? 50? 60? What will you feel that you have accomplished before you died. Don't' let those who do not understand themselves tell you who to be.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

As a starving college student I have to make ends meet where ever and however I can. An example of this is the way I usually get my school supplies. I usually don't go out and just buy things when I need them, instead I look for stuff laying around in class and borrow it. The other day I found a nifty blue spiral notebook with no name and a snazzy sponge bob pencil. This is the letter I wrote on the inside of the first page. It's a letter to the person I stole... Borrowed this from.


I am a poor college student. A starving college student, if you want to be specific. I'm writing in a spiral notebook I found with a Spongebob pencil I also found. This is the unfortunate existence of my self, as well as any student putting themselves through college. My dinners consist of ham, cheese, and Bologna sandwiches. This blurb in your former notebook is part apology and part explanation. I know my apology may mean nothing to you, but try and take solace that your notebook is in good hands and will be used quite thoroughly. This is also an apology of sorts to the person who lost their Spongebob pencil as well, but seeing as though this probably isn't' the same person screw 'em. Though the pencil is nice.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Meat for Morons

On the subject of reality shows I have this to say: it's meat for the morons. We feed them their "reality" TV shows and their content. They love it. They don't' have to think with anything above their limbic system. They argue for hours over what they would do if they were on the island. Who would team up with, or vote off. They'll even discuss how much it would cost them to eat what ever the hell the produces would have them ingest. They'll gladly drone on through their work week only to plop down in front off the TV. Being dumbed down so greatly by their scripted "reality" that they don't' realize that they're actually just watching commercials, interrupted periodically by TV shows. So eat hearty, for the trough if full.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

My girlfriend's new sister in-law wrote her a very nasty e-mail the other day. Jody (my girlfriend) asked me not to respond back to the bitch, but she didn't say anything about just writing the response. Nicole is one of the psycho bitches, bridezilla, what ever you want to use to call her. She's been trying to separate Jody's brother, Jesse, from the family. She treats their mom like shit, is very condensending, and is rude in countless ways. Unfortunately Jesse is too whipped to see it. So this was the letter I responded to the e-mail with. But seeing as though I wasn't supposed to send it I didn't' take too much care in writing it. Oh, another thing to note is seeing as though the letter wasn't sent to me I wrote it like I was writing for Jody. Enjoy.


Dear Nicole,
I have to admit Nicole, you surprise me. To combine two such powerful traits as ignorance and stupidity in such a powerful way is shocking in and of it's self. But to then compound them with your arrogance is, well, amazing. To confusing stretching out a family and flexibility, wow, I mean, you're redefining retardation. You do realize I was saying that I don't' want my family to be stretched out over a vast expanse, both physical and emotional. I honestly don't know why you're still trying to play the victim here. Do you think I'm some sort of wicked stepsister here to ruin your story-book wedding? I didn't say anything when you first started going out with my brother because you seemed like a nice girl. We all liked you. But as time (and you waist line) expanded you revealed your self to be very petty and immature. You started showing a malformed jealousy over my brother relationship with my mom and began driving a wedge between them. Not once have we not welcomed you into our home. Not once have we told jess to not invite you over. But every time you come over you take this condensending tone with every one in our family like "your shit don't stink." you look down on my mother, you look down on Anthony, you look down on Kevin and you look down on me. You say we've never made the effort to include you in our family? When is the last time you invited us over to your house. Yes I said "us", including my mom. Isn't it true that the only time you've talked to my mom was to ask her for money during your wedding? Oh, and if you want to get on the topic of your wedding realize that we weren't the monsters at that wedding. You didn't introduce us to any one, and yes that is your job at the wedding to introduce the families. Lets be honest, you wanted us quarantined from the rest of your guests at your wedding. I'm sure by now you've noticed that I've mentioned that it was your wedding. (sorry I didn't bold or underline it for you.) the reason I say your wedding is because it was revolving around you like you were some massive planet greedily devouring without end. I'm sure having jess work two jobs was worth your moment. You do know who jess is, right? He's the guy you conned into marriage. I noticed that you keep saying that he's worked into knots, ever think why? Could it be that the woman he's married is trying to drive his family apart? Oh, but I'm sure it's not you, no it's us. It must be us. After all we must hate. After it can't be you. We must be walking all over you. Are you honestly this stupid? Think about it, what would we possibly have to hate you for? We accepted you for who you were, we didn't looked down on you for being over weight. We tried, oh god did we try, we put up with your arrogance, your pushiness, your overbearing personality... What have you done? If you'd like an apology here you go, I'm sorry you're not apart of this family, I'm sorry you chose to be this way, I'm sorry you're such a heartless bitch, and more so I'm sorry you married Jess.

Hugs and Kisses
Jody

Original_exile@hotmail.com

My aspirations for greatness are all consuming. I am on the verge of becoming the greatest writer, but greatness has yet to be achieved. But I have achieved it before. In fact I still hold the title, to this date. It is a small victory, but a victory none the less. My means of achieving greatness was found through a game, and not just any game, but the greatest game of all. Super Smash Brothers Melee. From years of training with the first Smash Brothers I ascended to a god like plane. It turned out that I was, and still am undefeatable. Not once have I met someone who could defeat me on pure skill. In fact my only defeats came in the form of handicapping my self or down right cheating. With the first game I gained my skill and power using Link, his choice of weapons, and the fact that he was Link, perfectly suited my playing style. Once I reached the level of undefeatable I decided to dip my toe in Jigglepuff. Jigglepuff was the weakest character in the game, of all the weapons he has he can sing and fall asleep, that's it. But through Jigglepuff I reached a zenith. To be undefeatable with the weakest character meant I could defeat anyone with anyone. I was unstoppable. Needless to say this didn't do over well with my competition. Even if I trained my friends to play well they still couldn't keep up, I put them on teams for balance, but to no avail. Since them I've upgraded friends and upgraded the game as well. Super Smash Brothers Melee, this is definitive proof of technological evolution. The game's AI is smarter and much more cunning, and yet I still reign supreme. But there is a down side to being a god, it turns out no one will challenge me any more. So not I train with no goal, no direction. With out anyone to defeat I have no reason to continue playing. My last hope is to enter a tournament, to play those who think they are the greatest. After all, you're only as good as the people you defeat.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

I can't believe my grandma tricked me, and I didn't even see it coming. I called her up to set up a visit, seeing as though I didn't visit on thanksgiving I figured I should plan out a visit so I can stay in the will. Yeah yeah, I'm a bad grandson. So I call her and she says she wants to watch a parade that the local church puts on. Already my stomach begins it's agonizing churn, but I agree. I figure I can stand out in the rain for half and hour, no big loss. Besides, old people can't stand for to long so no worries. On the drive up to see her I call again, this time she says it's pageant that lasts no longer than an hour. At this point I'm thinking "parade, pageant, they kind of sound similar, and she's old, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt." upon arrival I ask how long the pageant will be, after all, I had homework to do. (I didn't really, but I might have had homework, that's not important right now.) I finally show up, and after the hugs hello I find out that this "pageant" is an hour and a half long. Then to make things worse it is not a pageant, not in the least. I spent two and a half hours sitting in the most painful pews on the planet listening to a choir drone on and on about some baby being born. I would have given anything for a Molotov cocktail. From my understanding it was all about some guy who was a carpenter, but he must have been a pretty shitty one if he couldn't design a better bench. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't' read, your couldn't do anything. My brain was on the verge of hemorrhage by the first hour. Essentially it was a two and half hour masturbation of an arcane faith. Needless to say she tricked me, and it hurt. (I'm tearing up while writing this.)

Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

To quote the D, "you can't manufacture insperado." which sucks, as every writer knows, you can't walk out side in a grassy park area, barefoot, and expect to be blind sided by inspiration. Much like the answer to what you'll do with the rest of your life, or what would make you happy in life it just has to hit you. There are ways to try and encourage said muses, but it is often futile. I'm not offering a trick, a tip, a secret, or even a lead to finding inspiration, I'm simply saying to not strangle it. Frequently I'll read the work of other people who want to write like their favorite author so badly that they attempt to emulate them. They will even try and write about something that offers no inspiration... I've been down this road far too many times. This is where the problem lies, you cannot force your self to create, if you do then you produce hack quality work, because you are one. "let me mill out this paper before class." "this is so boring, why am I doing this?" I'm not saying to quit school, or stop writing papers. Just set the artist free, if you have to write a paper, but you want to be funny, be funny. Schools are designed to rob us of out creativity, so throw it back in their faces. Viva la revolution!

Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Very rarely do I find myself fully supporting bumper sticker philosophy, but this one I agree with. For those who are unfamiliar with "bumper sticker philosophy" it is essentially a catchy often philosophical phrase that could be found on a bumper sticker (eg: my karma ran over your dogma.) but I digress, the bumper sticker I stumbled upon was on a car parked at Fullerton college. "if you can't trust me with the choice, how can you trust me with a child." this slogan was quite brilliant. The simplicity allows your to expand on it in any way, yet there is no real means to misconstrue it. Many people think the issue of abortion is one that has only two sides. One side is pro life, this thought to mean that you are crusading to save the lives of babies. The other side being Prochoice, on this side a baby is a decision, one that should be thought through carefully before a second mistake is made. Unfortunately, believing that there are only two sides to this issue is like believing that your votes actually count in government elections. There are far more than simply two sides to this issue.

Prochoice: this side is pretty much what it says. It's goal is to legalize abortion and give the right to choose whether or not to carry the fetus to term.

Probirth (aka prolife): this side sticks to the definition of it's name so well that there is no need to deny it. The Prolife side's goal is to ensure the baby is born, they do not want it to die, that's about it. They don't' care about how the child will be raised, if he/she will have food on the table or if it will be loved, they only want to ensure that their moral standing is not threatened. Often you will hear these same people wanting to shut down welfare and usually don't adopt.

Antideath: essentially they are afraid to die, and they don't anyone else to die either. A nice sentiment, but very unrealistic. If they're not protesting euthanasia they're protesting abortion. The difference between the antideath and probirth sides are subtle, essentially the difference is motivation.

True prolifers: these are hard to come by, if you see someone adopting a baby because it needs a loving home you've found one. But finding a person who is willing to think of the well being of others over them selves... Though you have a better chance of bigfoot giving you a winning lottery ticket.

Proreligion: Religion behind a conspiracy? I know, I know, as far-fetched as that might sound it is very possible. Religions love to "hook'em while they're young." and an unwanted pregnancy baby is a clean slate. Ever heard of an atheist orphanage? The more kids you have the more followers a church has. Plus, if church says it's wrong, but the state says it's ok, well that's a black eye for the church.

Antiwoman: everyone seems to forget that the baby has to fall out of a woman. A minor technicality, but a necessity. Yet another means of keeping women under the thumb of a male dominated society, taking way right to do what they wish with their own bodies is just a bit of effective irony. Don't believe it? What about blacks getting the right to vote before women? Or only within the last decade making it technically illegal to rape your own wife?

so before you jump on one side or the other ask yourself this, "if you can't trust me with the choice, how can you trust me with a child."



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

One of my many bosses asked me to tell her how a Snickers with Almonds tasted. something about how she didnt' want to ruin her diet. (no comment):

With a degree of elation not meant for this world the blend of snickers and almond dance across the tongue. Wars have been fought and entire continents were colonized to savor a taste such as this. The creamy chocolate seems to cling to the taste buds like a lovesick poodle to the living room armchair. The blend of almond and nougat seem to blend together with a subtle force like you would imagine Jesus would use if he were stealing your wallet. This second bite of this two-bite chocolate temptress nearly surpasses the first, but is tied to a deep longing to consume more. In the end I’d say the Snickers with almond is… ok.




Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

An Ego With Girth

I decided to write a narrative introduction for when I'm famous. I'll have people read this right before I walk on stage:


To say he is could be one of the greatest human beings to ever walk the earth would be inaccurate. He is, most definitely the greatest human being to transverse this spinning ball of dirt, orbiting a puny yellow sun. An accomplished writer, his work has sickened and delighted countless readers, though it is rumored that one of the readers was a count. A local boy, as many would so label him, he grew up in the less filthy parts of Orange County, and recently he's been known to haunt the Fullerton Junior College. His publishing credits are among, but not limited to Saddleback College's Wall Literary Journal, as well as Skinnie Magazine. As any good writer, he currently has multiple writing projects at his fingertips, including multiple screenplays, a three-part novel, and two collections of short stories. But as a great writer, his work is not only the antithesis of the current Hollywood hack writing, but will change lives and world of every person fortunate enough to have their lives touched. From the depths of madness to the peaks of elation, he is truly a revolutionary writer, and a gift to all humanity.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

My teacher, Penny Shreve, recently asked me to use the writing prompt "It was a dark and stormy Night" this is what I did with it. "can you say hack? I knew that you could."


"it was a dark and stormy night," she scrawled upon the chalk board. The words hemorrhaged on to each of our papers from the dust ridden green abyss.
how can she ask us to use this?" I muttered to my self while thoughts of "Throw Momma From the Train" fluttered about in my mind.
I began to wonder what would motivate a writer to write about a dark and stormy night. Wouldn't "The inky void above wept icy needles upon the earth" spark the imagination further? I leaned back in by chair, twirling my pen and thinking back to my past writing.
the humor involved in the use of the cliche "it was a dark and stormy night" was not lost on me, but never once had I used it. Through out the years and through the countless papers I've written I've never been an option. I've written from many angles with many perspectives, once I even wrote from the pov of a block of cheese. I've expanded upon the mind and regaled the futility of the body.
all this while I've dragged this wasted blue ink across this tainted paper. And now I am consumed with dark and stormy nights. How dark is dark? And dark to who? And just what is stormy? Raining? Going to rain?


needless to say I fear the day when my story is set on a dark and stormy night.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

A friend of mine from the internet asked me a unique question, so I thought I'd give it a public forum.


I have a problem. Actually it,s more my boyfriends problem then mine. It seems that whenever we get it on he finishes way before I do, is there anything I can do? Or should he go see a doctor?


Trying to push a rope up hill eh? Well, first off you've got to understand what he's got going on in his head. If he's under a lot of stress in his life, or something really troubling him he's not going to have the control it takes to go the distance. Try talking to him about the things on his mind. There's also the possibility that he's a little "over sexed," this is often caused by getting a guy turned on and then leaving him on for too long. In that case it would simply be a matter of much more practice, working long and hard till you get it the way you want it. Usually this isn't a doctor thing unless there's discomfort on his part, and if that's the case definitely take him into a doctor.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com