OPBlogsenal

Now I know how Joan of Arc felt.

I now know that I can disprove the thesis set forth by Wayne Coyne, Steven Drozd and Michael Ivins. The chemical in our brains that enables us to experience the sensation of being in love is NOT the same chemical that caused the Big Bang, setting in motion the creation of everything.

Love is not explosive creation.

There are no ultimatums. I'm not that kind of fella.

There IS trust. In every direction. I've told you how I feel. And I don't know how I could make it any clearer. He fucked a girl I dated for a year and a half and he did it 2 days after we broke up.

I was told by a girl while she was breaking up with me that I would still see her because she would hang out with Shaun still. You're not good enough for me, but hell, you'll still vicariously experience me, through him.

I told you last night: the bell rings and the mouth waters. Conditioned, wether you, I or he like it or not.

Fin.

I SAID FUCK YEAH!

I'd fuck that fruit any day.

If it wouldn't get me in trouble, I'd sig that.

OPArsenal:

And this is from Penny Arcade! I aspire to be as phenominal a writer as Tycho.

Tycho:

Most of the recent flights we've taken, I've turned to prescription anti-anxiety medication in order to make those experiences something less than psyche-shredding death jaunts. I meant to discuss it, but it never came up, because the time that I would usually employ describing a harrowing flight in soporific detail was spent thinking, man, about how each human civilization really is like a lighthouse.

You know. In its way.

The reality is that the product in question doesn't actually keep you from worrying. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was definitely something a little more turn-key. The way that it works is that you feel every ounce of the terror you always did before, it's just that now you don't actually care. I find this a little unnerving, although certainly not while this strange elixir is in effect, when a man could saw off my arm and I would declare in an even tone that this was not an "optimal outcome." So I decided to try it without, a course of action I regretted almost immediately, as I was again seized by the skyfear.

I've tried to figure out what that means, capital M Means, or maybe even means - and I think it means that I do have principles, but that they disappear immediately upon the first moment of adversity, challenge, or even mild discomfort. Even tickling might be sufficient.

We spent the better part of the day setting up the booth, which was number 1237 last time I looked at it, and after celebrating Kara's birthday with what I would call enthusiasm we returned to the hotel lounge, where the plan was to utilize the laptop I'm typing on now - supposedly a Tablet PC - to create sketches as we've done them for several years running. The machine appears to have retained the PC portion of its functionality, while the suite of abilities we associate with Tablets has gone missing. So, we took a picture of the drawing, there on the table with the artifacts of our moral decline and we have presented it for you to do with as you wish. A lot of people tend to simply view them, but it may be that you have other plans and of course we here at Penny Arcade endorse that.

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You should be tapping into this mojo at its source: the late great Dr. Hunter S Thompson.

Fuck yes.

Unterwasserseestaat:

OPArsenal:

And this is from Penny Arcade!  I aspire to be as phenominal a writer as Tycho.

Tycho:

Most of the recent flights we've taken, I've turned to prescription anti-anxiety medication in order to make those experiences something less than psyche-shredding death jaunts. I meant to discuss it, but it never came up, because the time that I would usually employ describing a harrowing flight in soporific detail was spent thinking, man, about how each human civilization really is like a lighthouse.

You know. In its way.

The reality is that the product in question doesn't actually keep you from worrying. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was definitely something a little more turn-key. The way that it works is that you feel every ounce of the terror you always did before, it's just that now you don't actually care. I find this a little unnerving, although certainly not while this strange elixir is in effect, when a man could saw off my arm and I would declare in an even tone that this was not an "optimal outcome." So I decided to try it without, a course of action I regretted almost immediately, as I was again seized by the skyfear.

I've tried to figure out what that means, capital M Means, or maybe even means - and I think it means that I do have principles, but that they disappear immediately upon the first moment of adversity, challenge, or even mild discomfort. Even tickling might be sufficient.

We spent the better part of the day setting up the booth, which was number 1237 last time I looked at it, and after celebrating Kara's birthday with what I would call enthusiasm we returned to the hotel lounge, where the plan was to utilize the laptop I'm typing on now - supposedly a Tablet PC - to create sketches as we've done them for several years running. The machine appears to have retained the PC portion of its functionality, while the suite of abilities we associate with Tablets has gone missing. So, we took a picture of the drawing, there on the table with the artifacts of our moral decline and we have presented it for you to do with as you wish. A lot of people tend to simply view them, but it may be that you have other plans and of course we here at Penny Arcade endorse that.

Click to expand...

Click to expand...

You should be tapping into this mojo at its source: the late great Dr. Hunter S Thompson.

Click to expand...

I think he died in or around Jacksonville. Maybe. If memory serves.

Which it does not.

Aspen, FTW.

Shittiest RBF song ever.

But it applies.

OPArsenal:

Shittiest RBF song ever.

But it applies.

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I see someone likes his ska bands with some ska!

the orange bunny knows

F*cking weird but for a sec cool read. guess what?



M I in the house!?!?!!???

What the fuck?

No posts or anything since September 18th?


Methinks that IG is overshadowing you.

Hmmm... Time for a proper blog in response to my fan.

I just sat down to write today’s blog with ideas flowing, thoughts swirling and coalescing. I slid my chair forward and bashed my knee on the corner of my desk. And just like that… The thoughts are gone. Fuck. Doesn’t that suck? I take the whole week off and when I finally get the motivation to actually write and post something, I kill my inspiration with a well-placed desk corner. Failure is somewhat painful. The sound of failure calls your name. It sounds a little like a John Denver song.



Do we need love? We humans? Too heavy of a subject for this blog. Do we need food? We humans? Too light a subject for this blog. Do we need blogs? You do. You need this blog. It speaks to you. To your soul, to that inner voice inside of you that plaintively cries out like a bleating lamb in desperate need of maternal affection. Sidle up to the nourishment that I give your mind. Belly up to the bar, but only if you consider me to be a pardner. The Intertron resembles a vast western desert; MySpace in particular is this arid region’s Death Valley. Feel free to partake of this oasis as freely as you would drink from any other eternal font.



I have no way of knowing if you were made aware of this, but I can only assume that you must have been. Now that I have dangled that juicy morsel in front of your metaphoric mouth you must surely be wondering what I’m talking about. Of course I am referring to the fact that there is a sport called soccer and that there is a team that I like called “Arsenal FC.” This team plies their trade in a city called “London” and their season is currently in full swing. And right in the middle of this string of favorable results we’ve been having we have to stop playing soccer for an international break. So our top flight players can go off and take some time away from making millions of pounds and go play for their countries for free. Zero dollars. And I am left without proper football for fourteen agonizing days.



Reel Big Fish are coming to Jacksonville on the day before my birthday. Sounds like a great time for an Extravaganska. How could I not for the RBF? If you think about it, it really isn’t so bad being trendy. Everyone who looks like me is my friend, after all. I haven’t mentioned this in a long time and I would not be surprised if you have forgotten, Dear Reader, and that is why I am here to remind you that there is someone out there who has stolen my format, my diction, my speech patterns and even my emphases. Their new application leaves them all rendered helpless and utterly unlike anything I would ever produce. In fact, it actually amazes me whenever I see it. I am struck dumb by the fact that a minor ape could bang away at a keyboard which most certainly is a foreign instrument and come up with arrangements of letters that form real sentences. They are mine they are not for you. This is a proper blog, yours is a retard roundup.

I am a reader of words, a writer of masterworks.

(CW)OP out.

I knew there was a reason for liking what i have read. OPA is defient of just mere explaination, he is as real as well for lack of words other than cleshaes(sp) as bread and butter. Thank-you Sir for being who and what you are and stand for.

*Captain Chaos ponders about announcing she is an Arsenal fan and was born in a hospital 2 mins away from their stadium*

*hands OPA the bucket to catch drool*

You've opened up a can of worms there...

*leaves with vague promises of not invading OPA's blog again*

CaptainChaos:

*Captain Chaos ponders about announcing she is an Arsenal fan and was born in a hospital 2 mins away from their stadium*

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No joke, my mouth did this:

Important PM in your Inbox.

I thought that might get your attention!!!