frankmask

I Just Pryed a rose thorn OUT OF MY ASS. With pliers. Ooahh. I feel... Dignified.

I fucking love CTF. I'm going to wash the blood off and pass the fuck out, like... fucking forever. Shit. God. I think the only reason I'm upright right now is adrenaline and icecream.

Okay, so by the end of it I pulled five thorns out of me. My back looks like I got into an altercation with a wildcat of some sort and lost. I have a big hole in my knee. That said I feel pretty fucking good.




I have so many 'You had to be there' moments. I could never, for example, explain the terror that the phrase 'Murfle Fish!' elicits in me. My brave viking soul still trembles in terror at the mere mention of that terror of the deep. the word 'Snergle?' produces similar results for wholely different reasons.

And then there's the whole 'SCIENCE!' thing. But I think that's pretty explicable.

Yay. I just poured rubbing alcohol all over me. I'm probably going to explode myself someday.


I love my tool kit. It has so much random crap in it. Hacksaws, everything you need to close rivets except an anvil, a tailor's tape. Fifty loose razor blades. heavy duty thread, double duty thread, stitch witchery, sewing pins, and artificial sinew. A tiny little tack hammer. Awls, picks, jeweler's screwdrivers. Clamps. It's party in a box. A barnraising party, that is! Hahahahahah!

I am brimming with subtle humor. I know.

I'm considering taking up an unhealthy obsession. Any reccomendations? I considered demonic summoning but I've heard it has diminishing returns after all the publicity surrounding the Faust incident.

Seriously, though, my love life is a total and ongoing SNAFU. I can't even begin to reign that fucker in. It's out of my control. All I can do now is stand on a street corner with a sign that says 'The end is near, buy war bonds!'.

Some day I would like to be a competitive street preacher for a forgotten and/or abandoned god.