Tuesday, March 8, 2011

lol

The world (and by world, I mean the U.S.) is full of crazy people. But how do you spot and avoid the crazy people? I don't mean people who are suffering from a mental illness or dementia, but people who are just
 freaking crazy. It is a subtle art to pick out the crazy people from any crowd, but here are a few pointers:

You know that lady who always wants breakfast when they are serving lunch? She's crazy. She knows that they don't serve lunch after 10:30, and yet she is always mad when they tell her that it is 4 p.m., there is no breakfast now. She is probably there every day, asking for the same thing every time, and going slightly more insane each day.

Have you seen that guy who is at the bank, trying to cash a check for someone else and has no ID, and is getting mad because they won't do it? He's crazy. You can't do that and he knows it. He thinks that if he gets really loud they will throw money at him to get him to leave. They won't.

There's a guy who lives right off the highway, and he gets his mail right there and then stands one foot from the 80 mph traffic and reads every piece of it. Do you know why he does that? He's crazy. Just stay away- he's crazy.

There's a guy at the music store who tries to sell a giant cello to everyone who comes in. He thinks you need a cello. No one needs a cello. No one. Anyone who thinks otherwise is crazy.

That receptionist, the one who calls and says that you owe them money for missing your doctor's appointment? If you tell her that you missed it because you were sick, she won't believe you. That's why she's crazy.

When you run across a person with giant lips that are obviously not the lips they were born with, turn quietly and flee. This person was sitting around one day and decided that she would be happier if her lips were bigger. She then paid someone to inject stuff into her lips with big needles, and now thinks she looks great. She looks crazy. Do you know why? Because she is.

-random website

Goodbye

Goodbye
Aston Martin
He is there
I am here
his pale face
weathered skin
distant eyes
are filled with love
He knows it’s his time
I just want more
We stand
by his bed
holding his soft
old hand
We breath
in and out
his eyes shut
as his body goes purple
The window is cracked
a cross on the hill
tears drip
splattering against
my black coat
I hate
the final goodbye

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Everybody

My friends always pick on me. They don't do it to each other, only to me. So do my parents. Not to my little brother, but they always bother me about the way I talk and what I say >.>

Saturday, February 12, 2011