The lead singer of Maroon 5 looks a lot like that Justin Timberlake wannabe who had his own dancing show on MTV which automatically makes me judge his musical talent as non existent.
Conclusion: Looks are the most important part of being a popular recording artist. I judge people by the way they look.
If I ever "got served" by some jackass who can slide on his head (unless it was in some crazy ass restaurant, I think the word has some new slang meaning) I'd probably shoot myself.
Conclusion: When sliding on your head, wear elbow pads.
The Chips Ahoy commercials where the cookie has a face and talks were all created by sexually frustrated women.
Conclusion: Sexually frustrated women=chips ahoy cookies, chips ahoy cookies=good with milk, so sexually frustrated women=good with milk..... some things just don't make sense in life....
****A Crazy Ass Story That I Was Bored Enough To Write***
When I stepped outside more than a day earlier I couldn't even guess that it might be the last time I would feel the gentle warmth that prevaded my soul. While the sun is indeed the life force for all things people in general take for granted the one entity that has and will rise and fall everyday in their lives. Myself included in this herd of ignorance until now when I realize my negligence towards the one thing that's pure existence could take my life at any moment. Now the only thing that drives my spirit is the ever growing hunger that tears at my mind every moment of the day and night. The indescribable hunger that can only be satisfied by the taking of another life by draining all life from their previously healthy bodies. The only means of making another u nderstand this ripping sensation inside would be to describe how it made its way to me.
If there is, as they say, a good place to start a long entailing description it is, indeed, at the beginning. As a normal man devoid of any problems in life I carried out a normal life, though a pathetic one at best. I was a man lacking companionship in the sense that most people of the Western Culture would describe such things. Life for me was a rerun everyday of its predescessor, the same lonely existence was a recurring dream in my nightmare world. My profession was my only true love, a musician talented in a large spectrum of disciplines as far as tools of music go.
On a particularly warm April evening in New York an out of the ordinary occurrence took shape in the roof studio of my apartment. While recording a particularly depressing guitar piece emotion got better of me as I struck the chords harder than one should thus breaking a string. Feeling the need to finish the thing I had started days earlier I made my way down several flights of stairs stopping only to greet a neighbor before I found the dimly lit sidewalk. The music supply store was several blocks from my dwelling but, taking advantage of the weather, I walked at a comfortable pace to the only other place I spent time outside of my home. I had become well known to a few of the clerks who made their living at the "Jukebox" and I almost enjoyed their company had I not already understood the evil beyond all people's personas. And on this walk upon which I attempted to appreciate the minor subtleties of life, death befell me... my life had ended before I ever had a real chance to live. Would the neighbor I had greeted miss me, would the clerks at the "Jukebox" ever realize that I no longer shop at their establishment, would my death even show up as a minute blip on the radar of any living being in this world? These questions will go unanswered for me, all I am left with now is the the hunger that burns inside. The hunger for life.
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Hopefully everyone was offended by my stupidity on February 13th 2004, oh wow I just realized its Friday the 13th, lets hope that my good mood had something to do with it.
Oh yea, if you're really anal about grammar excuse the shittiness of mine displayed in this page, I'm aware of it and you pointing it out won't change it.
-- bR!c|< (Rick)
