So I've been thinking; I haven't written a good ranting blog in a good two years now. I HATE GIRLS. They've gotten in the way of me writing this stuff.

…Well, I mean, Deanna didn't interfere with my blog writing, but I was a shitty boyfriend and had plenty of free time to write these things. I'm a much better b/f to Miranda, and I actually spend time with her.

Before her was Shay, who I would vent to, rather than these.

So anyway, Miranda's I'm at work write now writing this (remember what I said earlier? I'm the kind of person who will not rest until he has rested before doing any work) and I'm typing as I think, with no real agenda for where this blog is going to go, and I'm realizing that what people were complimenting me on (being "smart" [ha], funny [yes, people laugh at my thoughts, and mock my ideas], and looking at things in a mature and "different" way) as a 14 year old, aren't really that smart, funny, or different when you're going to turn 18 in a month. I really haven't gotten any better at writing things down (or thinking about them) in the past few years. It's kinda depressing to know I haven't progressed any. Again, I blame girls…drugs sex and rock and roll aren't helping either.

OH. I bought rockband a while ago. Also, our third ps2 died, so we got a ps3. (It's bound to happen when you have a 6 year old hauling the ps2 up and down the stairs, dropping it constantly. We got our first one when it first came out, so our ps2s last quite a while considering) So if anyone's got rockband for ps3, let me know. I actually don't know if there's any identifiable way to play with a particular person in rockband, but if there is, then I'll play drums or guitar with you. (Both on expert for most songs; years of DDR + Asian = good at that kind of stuff) Also, I bought myself a DS back at Christmas (I don't get many desserts, and I don't really get many presents; I do get playstations though) because I had an urge to play pokemon. I love having money to burn. Seriously, I'm burning through hundreds of dollars a month. Considering I don't pay rent, I spend more than most people do minus their rent, and I've only got a part time job with a girlfriend. Grrr.

So anyway, if anyone's got pokemon and wants to try battle (my g/f was bored so I let her errase my game and start her own) let me know whatever I need to know to battle you online, and I'll fight with Miranda's pokemon. Just for fun.

Back to rockband, I absolutely adore the drums. I've always had a thing for drummers. Most people think the guitarist is the most talented person, or the singer is the coolest, or the bassist is super cute or mysterious, but few people seem to care about the drummer. I love the drummer. That's mostly what I listen for in songs (aside from screaming or a really fast and melodic guitar solo), and I've always associated with the whole being hidden behind a drum set while being the driving rhythmic force behind a song. If anyone's played rockband, you'll notice how deviated from the other instruments the drums are. The guitar will hold a dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dah-dah-dah-dun beat, while the drums will be off smashing the symbols, kicking the bass, and hitting the snare at the most random of times, but it always seems to flow in with the rest of the song, and keep everyone proper by hitting everything on beat. Or if it's melo-death metal, it'll just be a straight-forward faster-than-a-racecar's-piston onslaught of bass pedal and snare. I NEED TO CHANGE. MY. SHORTS.

I'm also fond of bassists. Yep.

Bassists seem to be drawn to heroin too…I'm sure you could think of ten bassists that are famous for being strung out on heroin. I'll bet you couldn't name three drummers from any band though. Dat's coo' though, 'cause neither can I.

Has anyone read the Heroin Diaries by Nikki Sixx? It's SO GOOD. It's basically a year in Nikki's journal, and it's short entries (a few sentances) every page, with commentary from those involved. (Tommy Lee, his mother, the manager, etc) It really paints a good picture of addiction, and I think you should check it out. You don't even have to read it all the way through; just flip to a page, and you'll get sucked in for a week in his life right on the spot. Then you can put it down, and come back during a commercial or something and read a few more pages. Few stories let you do that (some try, but they're just boring), and for that bit of awesomeness alone I would recomend it. (Even though I'm recomending it because it helps to show that addiction is not a lack of willpower, it's a biological process which is deeper than willpower will ever reach, much less language, logic, or your crying child begging you to stop)

On a happier note, I've reached some milestones in my driving. I no longer park in the parking lot and feel embaressed looking at my park job as I walk back to the car. When you start driving, and you park a car - even if it's perfect - you're self-concious about it. That's why now if I see a teenager get out of the car with his mother, I smirk at him, look at his car, and tilt my head a little. He'll either be like "What?! *smacks chest* You wanna go?! You got a problem?! Let's see you do better!", or he'll lower his head in shame and avoid eye contact as he walks by.

Okay, I don't do that, but I do imagine that I'm the centre of the road. Every driver, cop, and inhabitant of the house I just passed doing 100 is watching me, and commenting on my driving. Okay okay, I don't do that anymore either; I've fallen into the zone-out-and-turn-the-radio-up-louder-than-your-g/f groove. But I am very careful when I walk down the road or look out the window, because you'd better believe people are looking out their windows at me.

Beware! BEWARE!

Also, I'm probably fired by now, and I got that digg section in here for whoever wants to digg it. Canadonian seems to think it'll do well on digg, but I highly doubt it'll get more than 5 diggs. But hey, whatever keeps him happy. He's giving me $400 to do some shitty annoying DB system for some guy that's easily a $2000 job. I don't even need the money. But whatever. Keeps. Him. Happy.

OH, since my job is…Uhh…Boring….I may as well mention I was in the emergency room pissing black stuff. (Blood).

There was so much blood in my urine that it was jet black. You have no idea how satisfying it is to check how black your pee is. For those who don't know, I love [MY] blood. I write people's names in blood and mail it to them. Periods are awesome. If anyone wants to kill me, come slit my wrists or slash my juggular. If I'm ever hit by a vehicle, I hope it's a semi doing 160, and I'm plastered across its grill. My nose bleeds lots, and I'm not angry about it. (It probably means I should masturbate more.The fewer fluids in there, the less horny I'll be I suppose)

Anyway, backpain + blood in the urine = kidney problem.

Kidney problem = death.

And Miranda had a kidney infection, and if she hadn't gone to the hospital that day, she would have been dead by the next day, so she was kinda concerned. Threatening to call me an ambulance and what-not.

So I go to the emergency room for five hours, and like I said somewhere else, ER doctors have better things to do than give little boys antibiotics at 2 in the morning. On the upside, I got to finish my book on Timubuktu. (It was called Faith at War, and Timbuktu was only mentioned briefely in the last chapter of the book, but it's a damn good book, and it under-plays a lot of the islamic fundamentalist stuff in the arab world, while still pointing out many of its flaws, so it'd be a pretty good book to read after Because They Hate, to help cool you down about "them there arabic muslim types peoples". They are more irritating than the people who say they're saving sex for marriage, but are perfectly fine with blowjobs and anal sex, because they believe it's a technical loophole that gets around sex, which totaly defeats the point.)

So yeah. black piss. Gotta love it. I peed in the cup and the nurse [male] looked at me and said "oh wow. How old are you?" Right then it was obvious he had not been through the couple-o-decades in medical school and internship.

Buh-bye. *blows kisses and shoots confetti*