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Exile Industries: Department of Redundancy Department

Friday, June 30, 2006

Haiku Friday

It is f'ing hot
Parts are sticking together
One Hundred and Three!


***

HNT was fun
Everyone dug yesterday
Herb is a pimp

***

A four day weekend!
Time to catch up on my porn
Yay for the U.S.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

HNT - Herb Nekk'ed Thursday *Special Edition*

We all know that Herb gets all the bitches.

But did you know that he gets all the Blog-girls too?

Oh yes, Herb's been pimp'n internet style...

Herb and Eve HNT
anyone want an apple?


And I do believe that "Ivy league" seductress looks familiar...




Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

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Tuesday, June 27, 2006

The Make Out Kids

I've had this job long enough that I know the patterns of certain people just by seeing them on a day to day basis.

There are these two people, however, who I notice every day like clock work. As 1st shift on the production floor ends I usually have paperwork to run out to accounting in the other building. Sure enough when I walk past this green car I see this "couple" just make'n out. Now I know you're thinking this is a once or twice thing, or maybe once a week... No, they are making out prono style, thus I dubbed them "the make out kids."

I don't know the back story, I don't' know if they're sneaking around, or what, but they are dedicated. Every day, with music thump'n, they're out there "lips smack'n."

when I first saw it I thought "how cute, bleck."
then it was "geeze, get a room"
after a few weeks it was "man, enough already"
after the first month it was "just fuck her already!"
now, it's just down right creepy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about make'n out, but this is far beyond "I miss you smooches" this is out right "face fuck'n."

What would you think if you saw this every day?


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Monday, June 26, 2006

A Side-Bar Too Far

Well, I have no idea what I did to this poor thing now.

Once again I’ve been tinkering with my blog, I’ve been adding links to the side, I’ve been updating stuff, and some where along the line I dropped the ball.

For those of you that haven't noticed my side bar is about a mile down the bottom of the page. So while I have linked most of you, you're pretty hard pressed to see it.

This time I really messed up the blog; I tried to create a space between the flickr badge and the rest of the blog links and some how changed the font through out my blog.

Ugh...

The only option I can see is to pick a new template, cut and paste all the crap I put in my side bar and pray to the dark blog demons that everything will go back to normal.

A personal theory I have is that all the pics on the blog are pushing the sidebar down, but the font thing is still a mystery.

What I would like to know is if everyone is seeing the same thing I am in regards to the fonts all wacky and the side bar on the bottom of the blog. (Consider this a good de-lurking exercise). If anyone has any suggestions on how to fix this by all means let me know.

(You'd think by now I’d learn to leave well enough alone)



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Sunday, June 25, 2006

How Bored Was I On Friday?

Ever have a thought pop into your head and it just makes you chuckle? Not just a little laugh, but the kind of laugh that is disturbing to everyone around you?

Yeah, I had one of those on Friday.

The thought that popped into my head was for this little comic strip.

camping
I think I should leave the art to the artists...


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Friday, June 23, 2006

The End

He lay on the couch with the blanket clutched tightly to his chest. He hadn’t slept in a few nights; he couldn’t sleep in his bed and the couch offered no solace either. A shiver coursed through his body as his lungs tightened. A watery cough rattled its way out of his phlegm filled lungs.

The ferocity of the cough forced him to sit up; the blanket was nothing more than a means to muffle a sound. The beads of sweat on his brow felt like ice freezing to his skin. Between breaths he ran his hands though the gray bristles that covered his head.

Suddenly, and with the same speed the chills had taken him moments before, a wave of panic washed over him.

“This is it,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the blanket.

His attempts to stand were stifled by the ravages of life that his age brought upon him. Wrinkled old hand searched for the only support he had left in his life, the cold yet contoured silver handle of his cane found it’s self-resting against the couch.

“Come on, we’re not done yet” he wheezed to the cane as he forced himself free from the bonds of gravity.

He staggered to where his laptop had been set up month ago, a thin carapace of dust collected on the closed lid as if sealed away for a lifetime. With a labored breath he collapsed into the chair and lifted open the lid. As the computer sluggishly powered on he smiled at the thought of two obsolete machines working together again. The irony gave him the first smile he could remember having in his decrepit state.

It wasn’t long before he had the word processing program open in front of him and the curser eagerly blinking in front of him. The wheezing in his lungs became rhythmic as his memories of sitting in front of the computer gave him a long lost feeling of home.

He spread his hands wide, pressing his fingers together giving out a few painful snaps and cracks. He set his aged hands to rest on the home row and began to click. The keys were pressed lightly at first with each word landing heavily on the screen.

Words became sentences.

The familiar rhythm, the sensation of creation, his hands quickened their pace. Typos quickly lost relevance as his hands moved.

The sentences became paragraphs.

He could remember the years of his youth spent hunched over these very keys, with the same vigor of those long lost days he reached behind the laptop and pulled the machine onto his lap. The ring of dust left on the table went unnoticed as he continued to click away.

Paragraphs became pages.

He clicked harder, faster, the painful arthritis was slowing be silenced by the screams of his muse. A smile crept past his chapped lips as he continued. The dialogue flowed from his fingertips; each line rang through, no filler, no stumbles.

After the first ten pages his hands burned.

After the first thirty his arms ached.

He pressed on, he pressed on though the night, he was in a zone that exhaustion could not penetrate, that fatigue could not falter.

His coughing persisted until a spray of liquid hit the screen. He wiped his mouth with his hand and picked up typing without missing a word.

Dawn’s shattered light crept across the floor, but the writer gave it no heed. His vision was blurred now, worse than before. But even without seeing the screen he knew each line was coming out perfect.

The cool morning light filled the room as he closed in on his final chapter, his left arm was completely numb now and the faint sounds of clicking was all the evidence he had that he was still writing.

With a final hacking cough he felt his pounding heart seize. His watery lungs were no longer willing to pump; his useless eyes began to close. His body gave a last violent jerk for life, straightening his legs and leaving his arm curled to his chest.

There were no revisions required; he had mulled this work over in his mind for years. His entire career as a writer, his life it’s self, had dwindled down to this point in a lifetime of work in which a writer finished his masterpiece.

In his last moments he set out to accomplish the one thing that he had put off through out its duration of his life. His masterpiece lay there full exposed on the computer screen before him, compete and unabridged.




Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Thursday, June 22, 2006

HNT- Half(ass-ed) Nekk'ed Thursday

So, HNT totally slipped my mind this week, actually it slipped in between the cracks of my mind where the remote always winds up along with some loose change.

The fact is that last night I was on Grandma Duty, ever since Ray died she's been kinda helpless around the house, so when the power went out yesterday it reset everything in her house and caused her alarm to chirp every minute. So with all the reprogramming and alarm company calling I had no time to download my digital camera.

Luckily Shora has given me an out on my HNT by providing a pic your beloved Exile.*

shora's version of exile


*Personally, I think I look more like Osbasso in this pic.

Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

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Wednesday, June 21, 2006

On the Mountain (a work of fiction by Peaches)

She stood on the ledge, surveying the armies below. At the entrance to the valley, the horde of invaders stood. They wore black armor and the finger bones of their conquests in long ropes around their necks. Silent as death, they waited while their herald rode forward to offer terms of surrender and servitude. Across the narrow plain between the wooded walls of the valley, stood the best the valley could dredge from the taverns and the fields. Farmers and farmwives and their oldest children held scythes and pitchforks and rusted halberds from antiquity in front of them nervously. Hunters and huntresses gripped their bows, long knives hanging from their belts. The shopkeeps and the laborers filled in the gaps, holding whatever modified implements of war they could scavenge.

Slowly she reached her mind out, weaving a web around her through the roots and the dappled sunlight of the wood:

“Give of yourself that we may protect this our home from those who have scorched the earth and made the rivers run red with the blood of innocents.” And with it she sent an image of the army below, and more, images carried on the minds of ravens, images of the bloated and bloody corpses left in the wake of this invading army.

One by one, they joined her, their minds at her command. Not enough, though, not enough power in the wood to fight this army. Carefully, she wove her net around the villages in the valley, around the farmwives to old to fight, the children left in cellars, and the hastily constructed army. They were frightened, these simple folk, but they trusted her, they knew her.

With all the weight of the wood and those below, she sent a message to the invading army:

“You are not welcome here. Go now while you can.” And with it she sent an image, of their own dead and bloated bodies decomposing rapidly and returning to the earth, worms crawling out of their eyes and maggots churning their bowels.

The invaders shifted uneasily, but these were not so easily swayed. The warlord laughed and rallied his men, untouched by her warning.

She shook her head and a tear escaped one eye to trickle slowly down her cheek. So old, she had thought she would be allowed to pass to the Wood of her dreams without having to use this power. She had prayed over and over, ‘please let this burden pass from me’.

Drawing the light and shadow of the wood into herself, she wove her power around the invading army, wrapping them firmly in a power older than their young gods.

The farmers and hunters watched, aghast, as the invaders turned on one another. Their blood-thirsty cries split the heavens, whilst their axes and swords cleaved their fellows’ heads from their shoulders. The carnage took some time, for this was no small army. For most of the day, they hacked and slashed at their comrades, until only a handful remained. When there remained only a few, she released them. They looked around, bewildered. Blood-drenched with the blood of their brothers-in-arms, they cried out. Some fell to their knees, shaking their fists at the heavens. Others broke inside, plunging their swords into their hearts in the hope of atoning for this atrocity. When they had calmed, she sent them a last message:

“Leave. Let it be known that this valley is under my protection and that any who carry a weapon past this border will die.” She searched their minds, and for each survivor, she planted an image of their worst fear and personified it with the darkness of the wood.

They stumbled, fleeing from the awful power that turned their hearts and broke their minds.

***

On the ledge, she collapsed, her breath rattling feebly in her chest. Blood ran in streams from her nose, her eyes bleeding to crimson as capillaries burst. She welcomed the darkness, the darkness that would ease the horrible images of death that continued to flash before her minds’ eye.

She woke, some time later, with the realization that there wasn’t much time. She lay on her side on the ledge, dried blood caked on her face.

All around her, the small creatures of the wood, the field mice, the frogs, the songbirds, lay dead and dying. So little to give, so they had given it all.

She whimpered at the dreadful cost, tears running freely down her cheek onto the sun-warmed stone. She searched through the minds connected to her still, until she found the one she was looking for, her chosen. With the last of her strength, she threw the power and the knowledge into the young mind.

***

Deep in the wood, the young male opened his eyes, startling blue eyes filled with sadness and knowledge beyond his apparent youth. Reluctantly, he reached out his new-found power. In the villages, men and women were warily returning to their homes. In the temple of the Wood at the Town Square, the priests and priestesses were burning incense to the Goddess of the Wood in thanks for her protection, and in the tavern, an old hunter, deep in his cups, was telling tales of his youth.

“I saw her once”, he proclaimed,”She was beautiful, her face serene like the moon, she wore an alabaster gown of the finest material, finer than silk. I was out hunting boar…”

The new God of the wood snorted and shook his antlers in laughter. He had her memories now, and he knew with certainty that she had never worn a dress of any kind in her life. Her parents had called her Bounty, in the way those of the wood named their offspring in thanks for the plenty of the present and in hope for the future. He cast about until he found the mind of an eagle, soaring high above the mountain. With a little coaxing, the eagle circled lower and lower, so that he could see her one last time.

***

On a ledge near the top of the mountain, an old cougar lay, the last rays of the dying sun illuminating her, turning her tawny fur to golden fire.

Literraly Getting Things Out Of My System

ok, fine, i take the personality tests.
but my drafts are starting to fill up with unposted posts with these tests. so fine, here are ones i planned on posting and some i found today...

Your Personality Is Like Cocaine

You're dynamic, brilliant, and alluring to those who don't know you.
Hyper and full of energy, you're usually the last one to leave a party.
Sometimes your sharp mind gets the better of you... you're a bit paranoid!


You Are 56% Gentleman

Generally you act like a gentleman, but sometimes you're careless with your manners.
Most people know that you're trying your best - and that's usually good enough.


You Are Socks!

Cozy and warm... but easily lost.
You make a good puppet.


You Are 28% Sociopath

From time to time, you may be a bit troubled and a bit too charming for your own good.
It's likely that you're not a sociopath... just quite smart and a bit out of the mainstream!


You Are 50% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird...
But too damn weird to do anything about it!


You Are 52% Gross

You're more than a little gross, but probably no more gross than the average person.
Maybe it's time to drop some of those disgusting habits that could eventually embarrass you!


You Are Beef

You're big, burly, and maybe even a little stinky. And no one's going to come between you and a good steak.
And you've probably never met a vegetable you like, unless fries and ketchup count.


After clearing all these out i had to take this one....

You Are 35% Addicted to Blogthings

Okay, so you know how to take and post a Blogthing.
But you're no addict. (Hey, this quiz *proves* it!)
For you, Blogthings is more of a healthy habit.
At least, that's what you tell yourself!



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

About 18% Of Animal Owners Share Their Beds With Their Pets

The only reason I drink Snapple is for the Snapple Facts.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Travel Cash

Now, I know I’ve pitched the ways of wheresgeorge.com and I’m sure that since then you've all flocked to the website to log your bills. (Because there's no way I’m the only person this bored at work)

But check out what popped up in my e-mail today:
where's george update

One of my dollar bills left my hands at the local Del Taco, traveled up to Anaheim (some how) then hitched a ride with someone all the way to Texas.

I don’t' know if anyone else is as nerdy as I am, but I think this is totally cool. I mean well over 1,000 miles in about 8 days, that's just down right spiffy.


(Oh, and if you dont' really care about the whole wheresgeorge.com stuff you can read The Adventures Of Dr. McNinja)


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Monday, June 19, 2006

Dear Fat Lady On The Freeway

Dear Fat Lady,

I don't know if you know me but I'm the guy who cut you off this morning. Yes, I'll admit it, but really, you kinda had it coming. Let me say that I'm not referring to gravity, which causes numerous asteroids to crash into you, but rather that you were quite the lane hog and deserved a brisk "cut off".

You see, on the sides of each vehicle are yellow lights, these lights are called turn indicators. Each blink of the lights says to you I would like to merge into your lane much like how you snort while at the troff to indicate that you too would like to feed.

When I first pulled up in front of you there was enough space for me to merge into the lane, but you sped up in an attempt to lock me out and keep me from exiting the freeway. This is similar to how you have difficulty making it out of the front door in the morning. Luckily I know my truck well enough to squeeze it into very tight spots which I'm sure the food trapped in your jowls must feel.

So yes I did cut you off, but really you were the one who forced me to cut you off. After all, in that moment you had a choice. You could have been the nice person who let someone merge into their lane or the fat cow who was cut off.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com


Ps. While you were simultaneously chewing your cud and swearing at me I was laughing at a great idea for a blog entry....

Friday, June 16, 2006

From The Exile Archives

When I get bored
I go through my old files
looking for treasure

To alleviate boredom I decided to go through my jumpdrive and do a little clean up. One of the folders I have is full of all the stuff that I kept from computers at previous jobs. Most of it is junk, but some of it is actually interesting (well, it's not as nearly as junkie).

so I present for your reading pleasure something I wrote back in my early college years. I was experimenting with using voice so I thought I'd write something that sounded like a completely different author wrote it....


Making the Call


She floats into the room, does a quick twirl and flops down onto the bed. She giggles and begins scavenging through the folds in the bedspread for the cordless phone. Lying on her back, she lifts her pelvis up to reach into her back pockets and unloads their contents. Rolling onto her stomach, she examines a small wad of lint-encrusted paper. Entwined with a dollar bill is a piece of notebook paper with “for a nifty time, call…” scrawled on it.

“Tee hee hee…” she giggles to her self, “I’m gonna call.”

She begins dialing but hesitates.

“Wait, if I call he’ll know I called when I first walked in. That will make me seem too eager.”

She puts the phone down and sits up. She surveys her room and begins to straighten the bedcovers.

“What if he’s expecting my call? I can’t just let him sit by his phone for an hour, waiting."

She picks up the phone, spins it in her hand and begins dialing. On the last number, she hangs up.

“What should I talk about? Oh god, I’m blanking on what to say…Class! We’ll just talk about class.”

She looks over to her textbooks in the corner of the room. Picking up the top book, she leafs through the pages then begins shaking her head.

“He’ll think I’m a nerd. Ok, I’ll just call… wait, I’ll seem too anxious. I’ll just wait a while.”

She starts cleaning her room but finds herself anxiously glancing at the clock every few minutes. She begins counting to herself.

“Nine, ten… Ok, at sixty I’ll call,” she decides, tugging at the bedspread. “Eleven...”

She tugs so hard she pulls the spread off the bed and tumbles back against her bookshelf.

“Thirty-two,” she growls.

The phone chirps and she lunges for it, flopping back onto the bed.

“I should wait a few rings, I don’t want him to think I’m anxious.”

She stares at the phone and picks up on the third ring.

“Hi!” she blurts out.

“Hello,” the voice on the other end of the phone answers. “My name is Bill and I’m conducting a survey for Tampax. May I ask you a few questions?”

“What?” she questions disappointedly.

“My name is Bill and…” he begins to repeat.

“I heard you the first time.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, would you like to help conduct a survey?”

“So long as it’s not like the Pepsi challenge,” she jokes.

“Well, not quite.”

“Look, at any other time I would love to discuss things that drip out of me, but I’m rather busy right now. Could you call back later or something?”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

She hangs up the phone and begins laughing.

“I just told the tampon man to call back later--I’ve lost it!”

She looks down at the wrinkled paper in her hand, picks up the phone and smiles. She begins dialing, hesitating at the final number. Then she stabs the last key with conviction. The phone is answered on the first ring.

“Yell-ow?” says the voice on the other end.

“Hey,” she squeaks, “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing big,” he says.

She can hear voices carrying on in the background.

“Oh? Where are you?” she asks.

“Just heading out with some friends. I was waiting for you to call. I wanted to ask you out tonight, but you didn’t call when you said you would.”

“I didn’t? When did I say I would?”

“I dunno, an hour ago or so. I figured you had made other plans tonight, so I decided to head out.”

“Oh,” she says, stumbling for words. “Yeah, I have plans.”

“Well, that’s cool. Thought you might’ve wanted to come with us. Hey, can you call me tomorrow?”

“Um, sure.”

“Ok, talk to you later.”

“Later…”

She clicks the phone off and looks at the clock. She knows she should have called over an hour ago. Rolling over dejectedly, she consoles herself thinking, “Well at least I didn’t seem too eager--I guess…”






Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

A Peach Blog-By

Kind of like a drive-by, you've just been Peached!!

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

HNT- Herb Nekk'ed Thursday

Long time no snake?

It's ok, you can admit it, you missed the little fella...

Herb Arm

BTW, peaches loves that little dent in the back of my arm. She says is a muscle, I can nether confirm nor deny the existence of said muscle.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

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Strength Is Sexy

There’s just something sexy about a strong woman.

Now, I know that some men still crave the doe-eyed damsel-in-distress, and yes men do want to ride in that white horse and be a hero, but the times they are a change’n.

The problem is that the damsels look good on paper, but not in practice. Damsels need to be protected, catered to, and basically coddled. The fact is they don’t have an identity beyond that of the damsel role. Do you think Nell and Duddley Do-right really had much to talk about after Nell was rescued from Snidely Whiplash? (Personally, I liked Rocky & Bullwinkle better…)

A woman must be strong; strong enough to defend her self and strong enough to have a personality that goes beyond that of a mere plot point. (Yeah, I’m talk’n to you Princess Toadstool). She should be willing and able to fight her own battles and not back down.


vasquez 1

Unfortunately there are a lot of men out there that are still looking for damsels; strong women often intimidate these men. The reason behind this intimidation is that these guys are defining themselves as strong in comparison to someone else’s weakness. In other words, the stronger the woman, the weaker the man. Regrettably this is a common characteristic in the majority of men; thus the reason strong women are often single.


vasquez 2

The only solution I can see to solve this conflict of strength in relationships would be a dual-sex evolution. Women would need to embrace their strength and men would need to learn a self-definition beyond that of strength.

Unfortunately I don’t see any evolutionary changes on the horizon.


(vasquez 3
If any of this offended you let me know and I’ll have my girlfriend beat you up.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

I Acctually Like This Song...

Your 2005 Song Is

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

"It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss"

Let's just say you're happy to be done with 2005!



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Monday, June 12, 2006

Shora's Secret Love Affair, EXPOSED!

Finally, thousands of secrets, games, and whispers the truth about Shora's secret love affair comes out.

It started as "an innocent work thing" but soon it spread like wild fire.

She does it in the office,
she does it on the train,
she even does it at home when she claimed to "sick".

Now, it is my sad duty to reveal the face of her lust:
black berry
and you know what they say, "once you go black(berry) you never go back..."

It's true, all of it. They spend hours together, hands all over one another, fingers briskly pushing each other's buttons

It's even distracted her from her daily duties:
Dilbert And The Giant Blackberry

An affair so sultry it's turned to an addiction.

Their insatiable lust has even given way to use of "aides" to enhance their "interactions":
virtual_keyboard
(I have even uncovered where they would get such a sinful device)

Where this affair will lead is anyone's guess...
paris



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Friday, June 09, 2006

Getty Garden


Getty Garden
Originally uploaded by Exile509.
She sent me a txt message:
Sitting in the garden at the Getty I could stay forever...


I hope she'll let me come and sit with her a while...

How To Blog

Greetings class.

Most of you believe you may already know how to blog, you may believe that all the “on the job training” you’ve received was enough that you are now an expert. But regardless of this being the case or not, I will be telling you how to Blog anyways
The subjects we will be cover today are how to start your blog, how to write your blog, how to get people to read your blog, and how to keep people reading your blog.

But seeing as though I don’t have the patience to write it all up appropriately I’m just going to do a categorized do’s and don’t section. (it’s mainly don’ts)

Oh, and there will be a test on this.


1. How to start your blog
· Don’t give out your personal info (name, job location, yadda yadda.)
· Don’t name your blog: _________’s Blog (it’s not only unoriginal it’s just fucking gay.)
· Do find a blog counter on the internet

2. how to write your blog
· Don’t limit your self by making your blog only about one thing. (if you make your blog all about kittens then you’re stuck on just kittens)
· Don’t pick subjects that no one can relate to. (do these exist?)
· Do make occasional post that will encourage people to comment.
· Don’t just cut and paste stuff into your blog (that’s gay sauce).
· Do write about everything, regardless of how you think it sounds.
· Don’t worry about offending people (people who get offended are assholes.)
· Don’t make a multi-entry blog entry without linking the posts (it’s confusing as fuck with out them).
· Don’t over use personality tests and stuff, occasionally is fine, but one every day is pretty dumb.
· Don’t blog about blogging (blogging about blogging about blogging is ok though…)
· Do get a photo account that you can link your blog to (Flickr, Photobucket…)

3. How to get people to read your blog
· Do allow comments (what’s the point of having a blog without the comments)
· Don’t be a prick to people who read your stuff (unless that’s your gimmick)
· Do comment on other people’s Blogs
· Do have links to other people’s blogs in your side bar
· Don’t go weeks without posting (I know what you’re thinking, but Mistipurple is an anomaly, she is one of the only bloggers that goes months without posting and has more hits that anyone, ever.)
· Don’t just post porn (that’s what Flickr is for)
· Do read your comments and respond to them
· Do reply to your e-mails
· Don’t lie about your self to build up your popularity (if you want to do that, use My Space)
· Get involved with weekly posts, this will encourage people to come back regularly. here are two examples:
HNTbutton Haiku Fridays
· Don’t keep deleting your blog (yes I mean you)


That concluded tonight’s class, unfortunately funding was cut, so there will be no more class… I know you’re angry so feel free to bitch about it on your blog, it just won’t count towards your grade.



Blog everything
Because this blog is all you
And blogging is gay



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

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Thursday, June 08, 2006

HNQ- Half Nekk’ed Quitter

Un bunch those panties boys and girls, I’m not quitting the HNT game, but last Friday was my last day at my night job: Lowes (aka the Low Down Dirty Shame)

The one thing I’ll miss is that working there was an endurance trial for the mind and body, so while I was quite fatigued my body tried to compensate. So this HNT I present a slight perk to working in a department that I had to carry a bunch of heavy shit all day

HNT flex

But for some reason, it’s only my right arm…


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

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Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Even More Random Crap

· For the past couple of weeks I’ve been reading a new web comic that is absolutely hilarious. It’s called Brevity and it’s written by Guy & Rodd. I have to say that this is possibly one of the best web comics I’ve come across in years. I’m talk’n Penny Arcade good.
ugly son wimps

check out their gallery here.

· While walking to the accounting department I saw one of our guys unloading some wheels from the back of a truck (shiny rims and everything). As he pulled one of the tires of the tailgate I asked him “so are ya feel’n a little tire’ed?” he just stared blankly at me… I thought it was funny.

· My grandma was feeling sick last night, so I brought over some popcorn and watched Short Circuit with her. I still love that movie (even though it has Steve Gutenberg)

· One of my dollars from Where’s George.com just popped up after one year of zero activity. I’ve decided I’m going to get back into the swing of things with good old Where’s George and start logging my money through them again.

· One of the girls that works with me asked if I hated my job, I asked why she thought that and she said that the last guy hated it because it was so boring. I told her that this job is so stress free and easy that it’s more like a paid vacation than a job. (And yet I still show up late to work, wtf?)

· Elena, Peaches, and I rode a mechanical bull this weekend at a “cowboy bar.” And when I say “cowboy bar” I use the term loosely… two of the songs played were MIB by Will Smith and (something crappy) by Ricky Martin. Giddy up!

· A new little side project I’ve taken on is I’m putting together a fish tank, I’m going really slow on it and collecting the parts nearly for free (or at a huge discount). All I need now is the stand and the hood and I’m pretty much set (oh and a gravel filter, de-chlorinator, nets, a heater, fish…)

· I completely forgot that I’m going on a rafting/drinking trip in July. Peaches and I already paid for the trip so it’s all set; it just now dawned on me.

· I think that if you decide to beat a pedophile to death there should only be a small fine.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Friday, June 02, 2006

Evil? Fuck Yeah I'm Evil

You Are 84% Evil

You're the most evil person you know.
The devil is even a little scared of you!



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Agony Of The Gods

When I originally though about writing this post I wanted to go a different route, but now that my goat was “gotten” I guess it will be a half review half bitch session.

I recently started playing a new game and I’m absolutely hooked (no I know, exile hooked on a game, who’d see that one coming?) The game is God Of War and it’s everything one could wish for in a hack and slash game.

god of war

In the game you play as Kratos, a Spartan who, directed by the gods, brutally slays and butchers all those who stand in his path. Now, when I say butchers, I don’t mean you whack an enemy with a weapon then they fall down. Oh no, that would be too easy for Kratos. In God Of War you smash your enemies to the ground, rip them limb from limb, hack them into pieces, gouge out their eyes and occasionally swing them on a chain to throw them at other enemies. (Personally I like to pin them to ground and stab the fuck out of them.)

But this isn’t some “bad guy with a heart of gold story” either, oh no. On your mission to murder the god of war (Aries) you are not above stabbing a peasant to death just to regain some life.

There’s also a fair share of boobies (nothing like blood and boobies to make your day a little brighter). Because, like any man trained by the gods, he usually has two topless women in his bed. Don’t get me wrong, Medusa has a nice rack too, but you’re too busy trying to twist her head off to cop a feel (this is where I differ from Kratos, oh, that and the huge muscles…).

The game, in its entirety has been brutally beautiful; the bitching is in regards to a slight computer glitch. See, in the game there are puzzles all over the place you have to solve. You know, doors to open, keys to find, levers to pull yadda yadda yadda… well, while playing a few nights ago I decided to screw around in the game with one lever and see what happened if you pulled really fast… yeah, it turns out my luck with machines in real life mirrors that in games. The computer now assumes have pulled this lever one too many times and will not let me do so again (it thinks I solved the puzzle) so the game is locked up. There’s no reset, no start over, nada. I’ve had to start all the way over from scratch. This is the bane of every gamer, usually it happens when your memory card erases data or you accidentally save over your game, but this, this just sucks…

Luckily there’s blood and boobies, so I’m fine with it.



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com