I want... RP.

And yet, somehow I'm hesitant to dive right into something. Probably because I'm lazy and don't get online on a regular basis. I blame Law & Order reruns.

damn you and your awesomeness Jack McCoy.

Repeated:
Sorry, everyone.

New stuff:
Fandom e-mail password found. Rock on.

So how is everyone in general? *needs to read LJs of everyone, clearly*

I work a lot these days, and I haven't recently picked up a comic book. It is a sad existence. So, the question is, are there any decent comics out there? Or is the spandex crew--and the Question, natch--all screwed?

Agh. Need a hobby. Maybe RP again. No clue.

Edit:
http://community.livejournal.com/scans_daily/2196774.html

WTF, man, comics now heavily influenced by blow-up dolls? WHAT HAVE I MISSED?

For the record, I am such a dick.

And I'm sorry. Had to take a break from everything, I mean... REALLY had to take some time off, and it turned into several months. I didn't mean to worry you guys, but things happened in real life that made me more likely to throw my computer through the window than do what needed done when it needed done.

I suck. Also, single.

Edit: What the fuck is my fandom e-mail password. Agh. I suck. SUCK.

I don't know why I put this up, I just needed to let people know when it occured to me that I was being a downright bastard.

Argh.

Bad shit happened. Going to take a few days more before I'm back online regularly.

Don't worry, I have all my limbs and am healthy and shit.

I found a puppy on campus today. Dirty scrawny crazy puppy that was half-starved and ate a good portion of my pizza. I love this dog. I brought him home with me.

HAHA.

SO DEAD. "We've got enough pets." was Sasha's answer to my pitifully grumbling beast. SHE WILL BE WON OVER BY THE CUTE. I dub him Pepperoni.

Respect the dead, alright people?

( Cut for profanity. )

There are few things in life as irritating as losing your pants in poker.

There is nothing more embarrassing than getting stopped at sobriety checkpoint by a cop while wearing no more than a t-shirt and boxers, then being forced to do the sobriety check. On a city road at the most backed up checkpoint ever with plenty of people watching.

Especially when they are my He-Man boxers. "I've got the power", my ASS.

My dignity = DED KTHX

Quote of the evening, "No ma'am, I haven't been drinking. I just have no pants."

It's rush hour, you're coming up to your exit on the incredibly busy I-70 where the average speed at this time is roughly 80 MPH, but no one's letting you get into the lane you need. What do you do?

A. Actually be in the right lane already, you're not an idiot. You planned ahead and knew your route.
B. Keep going, you can get off at a different exit and come around for another go at it.
C. Hit the brakes and screech to a stop, nearly causing a huge wreck and giving Jay a goddamn heart attack.

If you chose A or B, you're a sane person. If you chose C, congratu-fucking-lations! You won the prize and are a complete fuckwad! Please see me at any time for the asskicking you deserve.

Hate. People.

Good GOD.

Never ever eating at a certain local resturant chain in the area.

Never ever ever again.

Oh holy shit. Now, I consider myself a manly man, a man's man, a macho guy that does all the stupid shit macho guys do. I'm now terrified of ants, however. We've got a contract with a franchise, and I was the unfortunate tech sent out.

It was infested. There were millions of them.

Oh, god, EW. I actually left, spent my own money on Raid, and attacked the little bastards with the lazy manager's approval before I fixed their air conditioner.

Ew.

FUCK FUCK FUCK DAMMIT FUCK

( Cut for MORE Profanity )

Going to bed now.

MEMEZORINGZOMG AM NOT A FERRET

1. Reply with your name and I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal. You MUST. It is written.

( First, venting: )

( Second, wibbling: )

( Third, celebrating: )

( Fourth, belated memeing: )

EDIT: HOLYSHITWHAAAA? I was just IMed this link. I don't like the train of thought that would lead to being given this link. Even if it is a gag site, don't be jealous that I can and you can't.

I SUPPORT THE RIGHTS OF MEN REGARDING PEEING STANDING UP, PEOPLE!

SON OF EDIT: My HTMLing skills are lame.

Overtime can stop now. Really, I'm good. *brain short-circuits* Jay does not like working twelve-hour days, he likes them only marginally more than fourteen hours days which suck monkey-balls. I guess these ones suck... I'm not going on that line of thought, nevermind!

It was so hot. Well into the nineties outside and we went OUTSIDE TO COOL DOWN. It took four men to move the damaged unit--extensive fire damage, WTF? these bitches are designed to withstand heat without burning--and replace it. Hate people. Job bad.

I would like my Masters in engineering now, please, I don't wanna be an HVAC tech no more. Just a little longer--one year, two tops--and I'll be one of the guys that doesn't have to fuck with that shit anymore.

Also, as whining about my love life or lack thereof is cathartic, she's not pregnant. Thank GOD. And I have earned sleeping-in-bed privilidge.

Testing, testing... 1, 2, 3...?

WHO'S THE MAN? YEAH, WHO'S THE MAN? Disregard the earlier entry, for I am THE MAN.

I won't be online for a few days, folks. Network problems like whoa.

I go into work early. I wake up at three forty-five, no matter how late I stay up and am out of the house by four thirty. By four fifty, I'm in the office starting the coffee and shuffling around papers. Work starts, for this lowly apprentice, at the godforsaken hour of five AM.

Five AM.

I just got home. It's seven twenty-two PM. Let's do the math, kids, that's fourteen hours and two minutes. I don't mind an extra six hours and two minutes (I'm getting paid for my damn two minutes on top of those six hours!) of overtime, honestly, I don't.

But goddamn, that sucks balls. Especially when your fiancee decides to assume you'd been out drinking with the guys after work. She'd gone through a half-dozen insults and complaints as soon as I'd stepped through the door. How dare I go out and have a beer when I promised, promised to be home as early as possible. Then she's offended by the fact that I stayed late at work. Then she started crying. I have no idea what I did wrong.

Yeah, it's my fault there was a catastrophic HVAC failure in an important government building. Poor bastards, as well as myself, had to work in it for nine hours without air conditioning.

Either way, Sasha is SO moody. Ladies, what do I do? How can I get off the couch!?

Oh God... I can't win, can I?

Oh, God. Random AIM conversation with Alba. God help me, I apparently have a subconscious lust for Vic Sage. Embarrassing, but too funny not to post.

( Paging Dr.Freud... )

Blame eliyes. I am... *dundundun!* TMI Lad, bringing WAAAAY too much information to you with lightening speed! *dramatic pose, mysterious wind ruffles cape*

( The Meme Migrates! )

I was sent home from work early today. The reason? I punched a guy. He punched me back. We brawled (fine, it was more of a bitchfight) in the breakroom. We also broke the fold-up card table. And I got peanut butter and jelly in my hair. I'd warned that fucker to stop talking, he should've listened.

Luckily, our boss has decided to chalk this up to the wacky hijinks of two guys with way too much testosterone and only wants us to replace the table--no written warnings, just a verbal "don't even think of pulling that shit again". On the even brighter side, me and Jon came to an understanding and there are no hard feelings. He will never talk shit about my family ever again and so I'll never go batshit psycho over it again.

Which is good because I like my job.

Sasha is torn between pride and disgust. Disgust is winning. PEROXIDE HURTS.

Hello, couch, we meet again. I'll be sleeping on you for a while.


EDIT: Am fine; just bumps, bruises, and a cut on my arm.

Started advertising the wonderful new Justice League Unlimited:Initiation (jlu_initiation for those that stumble upon this fine journal of mine. JOIN IT!) I'll have to edit the posts when Alba puts together a banner for us to be using, but that's not a big deal. Two advertisements down and, uhhhhh, a lot to go. Staggered at two a day for maximum exposure and minimal flooding. W00T.

Today me and the little woman went out to eat. LOBSTER. CRAB. SHRIMP. It was joy. It was expensive.

And tomorrow is Jay-buys-comics-day. Anticipation. Argh, I neeeeeed!