I was thinking today. Happiness is when the school cafeteria doesn't serve rotting meat even flys won't touch three days in a row.

Happiness is sitting back at night to a good book, or a game of team StarCraft.

Happiness is when you have acheived the state of wanting nothing.

But most importantly, happiness is hanging out with your favorite web master after school, and then comming home and skating down your road on a beautiful day.

So this morning began like many others in my house. My mom came upstairs and rubbed fresh cow dung in my face to wake me up. (Read: yelled to me from the stairway.) I stumbled incoherently downstairs and made a bowl of something which I very much hope was Cocoa Crispies and not coffee beans or fruit fly eggs. I got dressed, got ready for school, went to school, did stuff at school. The usual. We had to swing dance in gym, but I got stiffed without a partner. Well, my webmaster was mine for one round, but then he switched to a girl and I was left standing there for a while, because the guy who got swapped out wasn't secure in his sexuality. Look out, pal. You might get an erection when I hold your hand. And if that happens, you absolutely must be gay. The guy was even someone who I'm fairly acquainted with, too. Wuss.

Lunch sucked today : it was some ambiguous sort of meat which I can only assume comes from gound up babies mixed with soy sauce. That meant the dry, crusty, too salty, big soft pretzel for me instead. It's like a party in your mouth. Really. A beach party that doesn't have beautiful women in thong bikinis, the ocean, volleyball, or good music. Yeah, it's just like having just beach sand in your mouth. Except more gritty. About this time, my web master asked if he could shoot some of his movie he's making for creative writing. I'm "Squints", the deaf mute camera man with permanant camera eye. Except because the stupid junior prom is tomorrow, we couldn't film in the auditorium, because it was being decorated for the grand march, what ever the fuck that is. I accepted, and unimportant stuff happened for the rest of the day.

So after school I met him after some wandering around, some mindless ambling, and a little strolling without purpose for good measure. We learned about the auditorium. By "we" I mean a bunch of girls I don't know that are acting in the film. So we all went outside and I realized what a beauti-fucking-ful day it is. The sky was a deep blue (not white!), the temperature was cool, but not unpleasant, and some guys were out there skateboarding. This stirred up deep feelings in me, and I vowwed that I'd go home and skateboard right away. It turned out the scene they were filming didn't even involve me, so I didn't have much to do except stand around and watch. My friend alex went primo, and then did a casper flip back to normal, much to my envy. (For you non skateboarders, that's some pretty nice stuff.) I was across the road with the filming people, so I could only look with unshed tears as people did things I wish I could do. I felt a little better when I saw all the falling down though. That, I can do excellently.

So the friends of my webmaster decided to play a prank on one of the other members of the cast, and we all went and hid behind a building. Sadly, it didn't work correctly, and she thought we'd gone in side or something. We all came out again, having wasted just enough time to film the scene. Funny how that works out. For some reason, my web master took the heat, even though, as I've already typed, it was his friends, not him. I asked him about it, and I don't know why he didn't say that it wasn't him when passive agressively bitched at by the member that the prank was played on. We were the only ones that were able to stay later, so we hung out behind that building, toking up and talking about old times. Actually, he showed me the film they were working on. There's a scene where my friend Pat (he's in a wheel chair) chases my webmaster down a street with a baseball bat. Good times. He decided that I should blog about this day, and just hanging with my friends outside on a nice day, and I have, just for him. (Awwwwwww... eh?)

So, I got home, and the first thing I did was go on the internet and check out the humor sites I frequent. That took about an hour, and then I moved to skateboarding. After a while I got sick of doing it in my cramped basement, and took a chance outside on the road. For a change, it wasn't too gravely and dirty, so I was able to enjoy myself without messing up my wheels. This whole time, I was trying to figure out how to do things tonight. At first, I wanted to skateboard, go in, play Eternal Darkness, and then work on this stuff. But then, I thought "I could play ED any time, but knowing New York weather, it will be snowing by tomorrow, so I'd better do some skating.) So I decided I'd go inside, work on my site first, and then skate until it got dark or too cold. I did my chores inside, and then fixed my Contra Comic 10 a bit. It makes a little more sense, but for those people who didn't understand that the voice in the last panel was a third person (plot: mysterious stranger helping out the two guys.), or that don't realize that this was another part of the island, some time this or next week, I'll clear all of that up. Their role in things. M'k? I'll admit, it was a wee bit vague.

So that is now uploaded over top of the old one, and it may be saved from complete idiocy, or maybe not. Also, my free time will be next to nothing this weekend, as I have to ride down to West Virginia so my mom can pick my dad up from his mom's house and bring him back home. That's a ten hour drive, and unless he can get someone to meet us halfway, we're going to spend all day driving down there on Saturday, and all day back on Sunday. Whee. Have I mentioned my CD player is out of batteries and I'm almost done with my book?

But I'll try to look at the good things. First, theres a slew of fast food. I love fast food. I know other people hate it, but I can't get enough of it. Mainly Chicken McNuggets at McDonalds. Yeah yeah, say all you want along the same lines as the cafeteria food, but I really like to eat them. I also love french fries. Gifts from the gods, I calls em. Or potatoes deep fried. And theres the mother of all foods: the spicey chicken sandwich from Wendys. I feel that the restaurant that "doesn't cut corners" (literally. Their burgers are square.) has stumbled upon something that will change the world. They have taken my three favorite things: chicken, papsacin, and sandwiches, and through Necromacy, modern medical science, and possibly the Mafia, created the god of all fast foods. I could eat these things all day. I almost cry when I finish mine, because I can't eat any more because we're on the road again. I eat them very slowly, chewing 50 times before swallowing to savor every bite. Oh, I order them with only lettuce. No gross mayonase like substance or tomatoes. Blech!

There's numb butt. The circulation in my gluteous maximus gets cut off from prolonged sitting, and I'm forced to squirm around uncomfortably until it gets working again.

How about riding in the car for ten hours with my sister? If ever there was someone in the world to make you consider suicide, question the existance of deities, and cry uncontrollably, it's my sister. But my family is another update...
posted by Slade at 10:31 PM

Good news! I know of at least one more person who read my site today. Sure, he probably won't ever read it again, but it was nice to see this little bit of feedback. He likes non-electric, non-straight razors. Now, I haven't been able to update because I've been quite busy. I have my art sketchbook due (I forgot to bring it to West VA, so I'm a week behind. That means lots of drawing.), and a poster on the Civilian Conservation Corps. due as well tomorrow, and I have piano lessons tonight. As such, I haven't been able to do much in the way of web site stuff. I managed to finish one half of my story conecept wise (as opposed to how many words it's going to have), and I'm really liking how it's turning out. I'm hoping to clear up tense conflicts and ambiguity tonight or tomorrow on this half, and then get writing the next. I'm really glad that I'm not getting writers block or having trouble trying to say what I wanted to. The most problematic part was trying to write the first sentence. See, I had it in my head, but then I lost it, and attempts to recover it turned out to be as useful as throwing an egg at a wall during a tornado. So, I spent about two minutes trying to get a new good first sentence going. I'm wondering if this is how good writers feel when they get a good idea in their heads. Don't get me wrong, I don't consider myself a very good writer, at least not yet. I'm just speculating, drawing comparisons. And hoping the old adage holds true; "Practice makes perfect."

Hopefully, soon I'll be able to spend the time I should be spending trying to sleep on web site ideas instead of planning out my schedule of curricular activities. I do most of my thinking during the that half hour while my brain winds down for sleep, most likely because I'm trying to sleep, so my subconscious picks that time to get me thinking. It figures, doesn't it?

Also! I finished Everything's Eventual, and I'm on to Mr. Thompkins in Paperback, by George Gamow. It's about nuclear, particle, and quantum physics. The fun stuff. Is anybody else having trouble with my Power Point presentation? Reading it I mean. My web master says that it starts going really fast at the end, so he can't read the words. That's very strange, as just about everything goes on clicks. I did the clicks so the previous diologue would disappear and the next speaker's would pop up at the same time, and then stop until one finished reading. Repeat until world is saved from Cannon.
posted by Slade at 12:30 PM

So the other day I was making a sandwich and thinking. The only times I can think are when I need to go to sleep, or when I'm really, really, really, really, really, really bored. So I made it (ham and cheese, dry, in pita-bread), and consumed it quickly, enjoying every bite. And I thought: "Hey, what a good idea for a story." I was of course, not thinking about my sandwich at the time.

So, speaking of razor blades, today I'm going to tell you all (yes, all six of you!) about my experiences with them. Actually, I can't think of a good intro, so I'm going to go straight to what I was leading into: Electric versus non-electric razors: the rumble in the mustachioed jungle. A duel of titans. A spar of opposing forces. A war between the old and the new.

Anywho...

The first round: Speed.

Electric Razors are quick. I don't mean like fast food quick. I mean mob formation in a backwater town after watching the news and seeing an Arab quick. It takes me about five minutes with my trusty Remmy (Remmington) electric razor to shave my whole face. Granted, I have less hair on my face then on my arms, and even that's pretty thin, but it's still much faster.

Normal (shaving) razors: About as slow as molasses in July in the Antarctic. First there�s the shaving cream, then there�s the shaving. Stroke, wash hair out of razor. Stroke. Wash hair out of razor. Stroke. Wash hair out of razor. Repeat for eternity or death, which ever comes first. I just realized that could be taken differently, if not weirdly. To clarify, I mean one's CHIN. I'll just keep moving...

Winner: Electric. I prefer something quick and easy to a hassle.


Round two: Reliability.

Electric Razors: First, you have to plug the razor into its recharger (AC current only!). Then you have to wait five hours for it to finish charging, and then you can use it. It should be noted that you have to only charge it like every ten shaves, but unless you get one of the Super-Deluxe-O ones with a charge indicator, there will be many days in your life spent with stubble on your cheecks because your razor wasn't charged.

Normal razors: Well, as long as you have shaving cream and a sharp razor, you're good to go. Even if your razor is dulled a bit, you can still get a decent shave until you can buy a new one.

Winner: Normal razors. They're always there when you need them. Like books, the Internet, file sharing software.


Round three: Danger.

Electric razors - I think this is a big thing for me. I am plagued with off and on severe acne. That is something I'd never wish upon any other being, except in most severe cases: like Dubya, or Rush Windbag. See, that's word play. I of course mean Limbaugh. So when you use an electric razor, it is almost impossible to cut yourself. I've gotten razor burn from mine once, but that's different from a cut. You can push down all you want, but you'll never get hurt from your razor. Trust me, I've tried it.

Normal razors - Cut city. If there is a single flaw in your skin, you will get cut. It's a fact of life, like death an taxes. If only Ben Franklin could have talked to me before he went to France to sleep with every woman in the country. (Ok, that's not quite true. I'm not sure exactly how promiscuous he was, but he was quite the womanizer. That doesn't lessen my opinion of him.) So there I go digressing again. Like I did that time... I'm kidding now. So, normal razors are almost death traps, especially if you have many imperfections in your face. And have you ever gotten nicked by a razor? It's almost painless, and you can't see it, unless its in a pimple, but it bleeds like crazy. I mean it's a big red fountain that slowly and stealthily drains your life force. Your blood. Your hit points, if you like. And there�s no way to stop it. You can put little bits of tissue or toilet paper on your face, but it really only succeeds in making you look really stupid. If you keep it there long enough, the blood will have dried on its own accord, and you end up having to pick the scab in order to get the paper out of your skin. Oh, bumps on ones neck are exceptionally dangerous. Accidentally nicking your jugular is a good possibility...

Winner: Electric razors


Round four: Price.

Electric razors: You'll only have to buy one electric razor unless it breaks. They cost somewhere between 20 and 60 dollars. You will probably have to get replacement blades after a while though.

Normal razors: First, you have your $3 for your pack of five razors at the drug store. Then you have your $5 for your shaving cream. This $8 will last you at least a month. The shaving cream a little longer.

This is a tough one to call. The electric is less expensive over time, but the normal ones are much lighter on the wallet in the short run.

Result: a tie.


Round five: Variety.

Electric razors: Really, they all look alike. There's the three circular holes where the blades spin around harmlessly (except to your hair), and the mustache and beard trimmer in the back. The colors are even more selective. You have your choice of black, gray, olive green, black, or gray. About the only thing different between them is their brand name, and that charge indicator in a select few.

Normal razors: Here we go. Lots of different choices here. First: brand names. There's Bic (yes, they make a lot more than pens), Schick, Gillette, and those are just the ones off the top of my head. I know I said you could pick brand names with electric razors, but I think Schick beats Remmington any day. While you could pretend that you poke yourself in the face with your 12 gauge shotgun, it's not very funny. Now, walking into an uptight restaurant and proclaiming to the world "I love the feel if Schick on my face" is. Perhaps it would be better if you and a friend just began a conversation about your razors, and made sure to make the pronunciation of it was questionable. It would make a good candid camera gag. Notice how this is original material, and I own all rights to it, NBC? Just thought I'd mention that. And I'm not to the colors yet. There�s pastel pink, classic yellow, grass green, forest green, baby blue, and a zillion other colors. You could keep a razor in every room of your house, and you could make it match or compliment your wall paper easily. Then there�s the blades. Do you want fat blades? Thin blades? Three blades? How about a ten blade razor? It will mold to every concave of your face.

Winner: Normal razors by a mile.

Tie breaker round: Effectiveness as implements in career as serial killer.:

Electric razors : Well, as I've said, there is no possible way for an electric razor to cut your face. It's like exceeding the speed of light. Impossible.

Normal razors: It's a little easier, but not reliable. I mean, the cut you could inflict would be really shallow, and slow. If you have the three days it would take to keep an anti-coagulant at the site of the cut of your victim while he or she ever so slowly bleeds to death, then power to you.

Straight razors: Ah, this little gleaming beauty. Less conspicuous than an ax, more efficient than a butcher's knife. If killing quickly, quietly, in style, is your way, then this is the perfect tool. Simply sneak up behind someone and slit their throat. You could stalk the person in the dark as they become more and more nervous on their way home, chase them into a dark alley, and then hack them slowly to pieces. Or make them think they've lost you, and then show up at their house, in their room, as they go to bed, for a really big surprise.

Winner: The straight razor, by an artery.

*DING* There�s the bell. This bout is over. And the world heavyweight shaving champion is... undecided. Yes, that's right. We have two for electric, two for normal, a tie between both, and the straight razor snuck up behind the two combatants for a single point in the last round. I tried to be fair and call it down the middle, and I have, I think. It really comes down to personal preference.

Well, I'm going to work on my new story soon. Now that I'm done with this update, I don't want to work on it, but I'm going to force myself later. Once I get past the initial laziness I'm usually all right with this kind of stuff. Maybe this will be the thing I submit to Heccubus for his short story... compilation? Compendium? I don't know. I've always found "thingy" to be more descriptive, when not applied as slang for penis.

Oh, maybe I forgot to tell you. I don�t really remember. Even though 5/6 of you frequent Lefty�s Woo-Bored anyway. Meh. Heccubus had an epiphany that he and people he knows should all submit short stories for a big� thingy. I volunteered, as the right side of my brain has been freaking out lately (sometimes I just absolutely have to create something, more on that at some other date�), and I might as well put it to productive use. When someone expects something of me, I actually try to get it done. Maybe I should expect things of myself, and that would get me going on all of those unfinished projects, but I don�t feel like changing in that way at the moment.

Hey, I've begun my story, and I like how it's coming out. I think I'm going to finish it, and actually like it when I'm done! Woo for me! You say it too. No, I won't start that again.
posted by Slade at 9:46 PM

Hey hey, at the moment I'm catching up on 8-Bit Theatre. I'll write the update tonight at my house before I start my next short story. The words are bouncing around in my head as I type this. Does it mean something? I dunno. Will this story get finished and be good? I hope so. Will I finish it? Probably not, but maybe.

Oh, and does anyone know why my web page just started not displaying correctly?
posted by Slade at 12:07 PM

Hmm, I just changed the saying below my web site title. Apparently, the power of Bruce Campbell's chin not only fights evil, forces you to read my stuff, and changes flat tires in minutes. It also completely fucks something in my HTML up.
posted by Slade at 10:19 PM

Here it is, four days later. No, I'm not dead. We had to come back early from West Virginia because my great aunt broke her wrist. She has a stupid and spoiled and hyper poodle, who's nice most of the time, really. So she was walking her dog, and a neighbor's dog got loose. This poodle is small, and was scared of the other dog. He took off, and got his leash stuck under a car. The jerk pulled my arthritic 91 year old aunt off her feet, where she landed on her arm and broke her wrist. So my mom had to come home and take care of her. We left on Friday instead of Sunday. We went to Easter dinner with her yesterday, and I had a thought that she looked like one of those grizzled old medicine women in movies with American Indians. Shamans. Witch doctors. What ever the kuff you want to call them.

You'll note that there's no funny stuff at the moment. I remembered the things I'd forgotten about the funeral (go figure), and I got the idea for two more short stories. The ideas were just pouring out of my head earlier. Much like my shower water. Granted, I'm not going to write these stories yet, or maybe I will. As you may or may not know, I'm notorious for not finishing a project once I start it, and I have lots of things to show for it. I guess I'm in a rut with the current story I'm writing, because I just don't feel like writing it at the moment. It doesn't want to come out correctly, and I'm bummed about having to go back to school tomorrow. The shit is really going to hit the fan because I'm going to have to start applying myself. I hate that. The only things I like to apply myself to are things I'm never going to need in life. I'd really like to get an e-mail from every person that reads my stuff. Even if I already know that you read my site. I want a tally of all the people that view it. I know it will end up being only about 5 people, but I don't care. I just want to know who you are. I'm serious, too. I've said this before, but now I really want you to e-mail me. Go! Click! I'm ending this before it gets too incoherent and rambly. It's probably too late. I'm sorry. I don't like this site becoming too much like a regular blog. I try to strive for at least entertaining shit. Hopefully good stuff tomorrow! Go e-mail me. The power of evil/good/balance/neutrality/France/Groucho/Mario/swords/whatever compells you. Click!
posted by Slade at 10:07 PM