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ChuckUFarley
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read my profile
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Name: Remiel
Country: United States
State: Wyoming
Metro: Casper
Birthday: 9/24/1979
Gender: Male
Interests: Programming, Fighting, Cars, Games, BBQ, Fine Wine.
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Yahoo:  sp3nser
Member Since:
3/23/2003
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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| I'm mostly using facebook now. Leave me a comment if you has facebook. I'll probably actually start using this again for longer things, since they linked the two.
I'm not a big believer in dramatic "Leaving site deleting all" posts but a working person can only do so much of this crap a day, so I'm trying to "cut back" to just facebook where most of my RL friends post and plan things.
Like I said, I'll probably use this for longer, bloggy posts as it's better then the face book notes.
If you have a facebook and don't already have me as a facebook friend, leave me a comment here.
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| I now
officially
have a poorly maintained presence on every social network, every, except live journal.
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| After a long hard day of getting punched a lot
you look at other people
and you think:
I'm hurt but I know something you don't
I know the secret of what it takes to hurt me and I bet your secret is the same
And there is space around you on the sidewalk
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| Everybody thinks about welfare wrong.
Welfare isn't free money for people that don't work. Welfare is a cleanup service for people that do.
Thanks to the government, you don't have to step over all those people every day.
You can just pay maybe an extra point on your taxes and get on with pretending they don't exist.
I don't know how you define "service" but I think building a little buffer like that right into society, so I get to do charity every time I pay taxes AND I never have to personally deal with the downtrodden is a great "service."
The only thing "better" would be a "service" for putting unneeded "quotes" around "things."
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| I don't get it. I really don't get it.
I look out over the crowd and I see the Leather Girls - the ones with the softball-shaped breast implants and the bad orange tans - pressing up against the Soft Boys, the guys with Indoor Jobs and Sensibly Rebellious Hair.
They're out of the natural order.
They clearly aren't edible
They clearly have no other purpose.
My gaze wanders and I see Peter Pan the Gothic Wonder, the guy that really needs to learn strappy pants and a hot topic T-shirt are not how you dress if you're a greasy 32 year old mechanic with a meth problem. Next to him is The Incredible Expanding Sow, his sidekick.
She has the super power to make other people feel good about their weight by contrast. She learned this power sometime senior year in highschool, when she suddenly just . . . stopped being pretty.
Behind them is Let's Get Fucked Up Pete, a guy who believes, passionately, that we should get fucked up. With him is Goodtimes the Ancient Biker. He was in NAM even though he's really only 44, and he was a marine. He'll tell you about special martial arts they only teach to marines that you can use to kill a man. After which, Pete will tell him to Get Fucked Up.
I ignore them and talk to Pretty Whore a little bit. PW is an OK person but she is pretty. This holds her back.
She and I look out over the densely packed area near the bar - what we call the Sea of Futility. Futility base, the Frustration has landed.
Everybody in the bar area wants someone else in the bar area, the only caveat being that under no circumstances shall the person they want be the person who wants them.
The doorman directs me, unbidden, to the coolest part of the building, the kitchen. This is where the real cool kids seem to be hanging out. I loiter here.
I look around and where I'm supposed to see other people I only see automatons and livestock. You aren't my species, you fucks. You aren't my species and you aren't my friends and god help you if I ever get my hands on any sort of real power.
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