He knows how to live life to the fullest.
Because trendwhoring is fun. It's a Fender Strat. Knock yourself out.
His real name is Ben. DRAMADRAMADRAMA
Meet me in Chinatown. Shit's about to go down. B|
This thread doesn't involve you in the slightest.
[i dunno, made this thread to spam. Hey, Jerome, I love reposts.]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAVxdJSJ3rE And to all a good night.
Gogogogogogogogogogogogogogogo! -Fender Squire electric guitar -Some crappy amp -Avenged Sevenfold City of Evil sheet music book -Random assorted Beatles songs sheet music book -Philips headphones -Blood Evidence by Dr. Henry C. Lee
You...
For the love of God, someone help me.
But it's already on the lowest setting. What to do, what to do...
Meh, something for school again. And yea, I know the ending could have been much better. I wrote this at 11 P.M. The clinking and clanking of champagne glasses filled the lobby of The Main Street Inquirer to the brim with an obnoxious tone that was all but music to James’ ears. As his coworkers drank to his prestigious honor, he took a gaze at what he had. Finally, the respect he knew he deserved. No more would his fellow reporters see him as a rookie or an untalented hack who writes about pigeons and retirement homes. Megan approached him from his right. The stunning blonde woman put her arm around James’ waist while smiling admiringly up at him. “Congratulations on that promotion, big guy!†she said softly as she embraced him. “Well,†James began rather arrogantly, “It was only a matter of time before they realized my greatness.†Megan pulled away slightly, “There’s something I have to tell you.†“What?†James asked with a puzzled expression. She opened her mouth slowly, and as it reached the point of gaping, a loud alarming screech wailed out of her mouth. James opened his eyes in panic. He practically rocketed out of his bed sheets whilst looking about to affirm where he was. He looked forward at the conspicuously torn lime green wallpaper, looked to the left at the dirty window with the broken blinds. Finally he looked to his right and found the source of the wail and pounded his hand down on its small rectangular frame. He half hoped to break the oh-so hated box. The morning air turned his feet into anvils, as he dragged his spiritless body across the hardwood floor of his apartment’s bedroom. Quickly showering and shaving, he prepared a rather bitter cup of coffee and headed to work. Finally navigating through the automobile herd of New York City, he reached the skyscraper and looked up in a dull manner. ‘So, this is what I am?’ he asked himself as he did every other day, ‘Another leg for the corporate giants’ armchairs?’ No matter how many times he asked himself this, he could never think of anything to follow up with. Really he amounted to nothing more than that. Sure, The Main Street Inquirer had the most subscribers in the city and made record profits almost every year, but that doesn’t make him any better than the next guy working at a self-published newspaper stand. He hadn’t established his name in the industry, he didn’t write a regular column, and he didn’t have any gripping stories. No matter what he did, the older, more experienced journalists would always jump on the bigger stories, all the while leaving him in the dust. What could he do besides write about what he could find? His stories reeked of mediocrity, and often covered topics that many found “insignificantâ€, as his boss would say time and time again. In James’ mind, significance depends on your perspective. Pushing through the rotating door and slowly walking to the elevator, he pressed the number twenty-three and waited as the elevator took what felt like an eternity to reach his boss’ floor. “Henderson! Where’s your story?†Mr. O’Brien barked as the elevator doors made way to reveal James standing behind them. “Right here, sir.†He said with a very noticeable hint of exhaustion, patting his laptop. He walked steadily over, passing several of his coworkers punching furiously at their keyboards. He placed the laptop on Mr. O’Brien’s desk, opened it up and revealed his story. Mr. O’Brien read it over in all of a minute and could only respond with a curt “I hate it.†James’ facial expression didn’t change in the slightest. It didn’t even move. Not a single muscle made a budge. He expected this reaction out of the grumpy old Irishman. He looked up at James form his desk chair. He rose slowly, “Henderson, I’ve had enough of this crap! Week after week all I get from you is third-rate garbage!†He turned around to his file cabinet, furiously flipping through worker files. He arrived at “Henderson†after a few seconds of his dramatic searching. “‘Retirement home backgammon tournament,’ ‘Kitten rescued from tree,’ ‘Pigeon migration patterns,’ need I go on? Every single story you’ve given me has been this bad or even worse! It’s embarrassing, and I can’t stand it anymore! You’re a smudge on the otherwise immaculate Main Street Inquirer reputation! Consider yourself fired!†For once, James experienced a true feeling of shock. He expected a cut in pay or another rant. His stories never captivated many, but they still held validity is stories, nonetheless. “Mr. O’Brien, you can’t do-†“What can’t I do? Last time I checked, this was newspaper, my empire of the press! I can do what I find best for the paper, and getting rid of your sorry ass is the best decision I’ve made in years! Now get out of my sight! You can pick up your last paycheck tomorrow.†“You won’t even mail it to me?†James said, a tone of disgust becoming more and more noticeable in his voice. “When did you earn such luxuries?†Suddenly, the monotony of James’ life sublimed into the smoky air that he had been inhaling. The void was filled with rage. A rage he hadn’t experienced in the past. It took his mild personality and warped it. Thoughts buzzed about in his mind, many different feelings and plans, irrational actions that would have indescribable repercussions. Rationality didn’t make a difference to him anymore, though. His overconfidence in his career’s ability to withstand his storm of failure led to this all time emotional low, and this low point could push him to do anything.
Yes, no, maybe so? Yea, Beatles references and inside jokes galore. Not even sure if I'm gonna do it, but meh.
I can't sign in for some reason...
So yea, I'm gonna get some plane tickets to Florida to find Cariad and- *Shot* Anywho, I'm going to the Poconos Mountains in Pennsylvania for a weekend ski trip. Since I'm leaving right after school on Friday and won't be on for very long tomorrow, I figured I'd post this now. I'll be back Monday, so yea. Hasta luego, mis hijos. B|
Repost tiem, me thinks. The definition of Trendwhore is to take a particular theme, idea, or meme, such as a saying, and to rape the the **** out of it through overuse and repeated failure. To be honest I feel a little guilty, not only for having brought the term trendwhore, itself, to KHV, but for having been the first to openly attempt to use this rabid form of trolling in order to create humor. Obviously the very act of trendwhoring has become whored. Which is sad and overall, a disappointment to society and the human race as a whole. I believe it is time now to cleanse the site of trendwhoring. We begin this by limiting the rights of trendwhores, they won't mind, they'll be far to busy screaming "epic fail" or something stupid that in reality, only noobs and trendwhores say. When they have become comfortable with their surroundings, we can round them all up and pool them into one place, a camp, if you will. Where they can live amongst themselves, rather then amongst us. While we're at it, we might as well give them manual labor to do, we can at least be productive about this, no? Of course with the introduction of manual labor, those who can't work will undoubtedly have to leave the camp. When the trendwhores first arrive, we can have a swift process of taking out those that are too young, too old, or too pregnant. They'll be put into their own safe little chambers to live in. There will be no need to ever see them again, they'll be happy...in the chambers. Nein, I think they'll want to stay. Wir können dann die Körper ins Feuer werfen. I think this will really be better for everyone, with these changes in place, the true race of KHV will be able to live in peace and harmony. Like, oh, say, for instance, those with blond hair and blue eyes. Oh werden sie es lieben. It'll be like a dream, the whole world wird an unserer Kraft zittern. Those that widersetzen Sie sich wird sein destroyed. Wir werden über die Welt, eine große Rasse, über das ganze Land, für immer und die ganze Ewigkeit herrschen. Wir werden das Ungeziefer, diejenigen ausrotten, die das edle deutsche Blut mit uns nicht teilen! GOTT WIRD SICH NACH DEN VEREINIGTEN STAATEN VERBEUGEN. ZU MIR. DER GANZE HAGEL HITLER Wir sind kein Fremder, um zu lieben Sie wissen die Regeln und ich auch Ein volles Engagement, woran ich denke Sie würden das von jedem anderen Kerl nicht bekommen Ich will Ihnen gerade erzählen, wie ich mich fühle Haben Sie lassen Sie verstehen Nie wird Sie aufgeben Nie wird Sie enttäuschen Nie wird umlaufen und Sie verlassen Nie wird Sie schreien lassen Nie wird auf Wiedersehen sagen Nie wird eine Lüge erzählen und Sie verletzen. Thank you.
I've been repressing this memory for far too long. I need to let it out to someone, even if that someone is the anonymity of the internet. Well, as a child I had an uncle (let's call him Uncle Rob) and he was very affectionate. More than any of my other family members, even my own parents. He was a sort of second father to me, especially when my father would go away on long business trips for weeks on end. One night my mom left me at his house while she went out with my father, and he asked me if I wanted to play a game. He brought me into his bedroom and told me to close my eyes. I did. He was about to rape me, and I was completely clueless. As I felt his touch I yelled at him to stop. We got in one little fight and my mom got scared, she said, "You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Aire!" I whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said "Fresh" and there were dice in the mirror. If anything, I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought, "Nah, forget it. Yo, Homes, to Bel-Aire!" I pulled up to the house about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabbie, "Yo, Homes, smell ya later!" Looked at my kingdom, I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel-Aire. And that's my story. Thanks for reading, I needed to get this off of my chest... It's been eating away at me for years.
I want serious answers. >_> inb4lolspamzone
Yes, I had to make a second thread. B| Cariad - Nintendo Entertainment System Darkrequiem0 - Nintendo 64 Azure Haseo - Atari 2600 Kid Hero - Playstation 1 kitty_mckechnie - Super Nintendo Entertainment System Goimez - Sega Dreamcast shadowjak - Gameboy Color Saki - Virtual Boy Zeonark - Atari 5200 Anxie - Phillips CD-i
