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11/08/2005: "This isn't."

Well, if you couldn't tell, I didn't actually die. They didn't find no bomb. Bets are still on that the person who wrote that threat on the wall was someone who was gonna cut today anyway, if it wasn't for the fact that Mr. Rofloflofken is cracking down on all the cutters now that's he's in power.

He's still shitloads better then Phebus was, I'll give him that.

Still, it brings to light a few questions. What the hell were they doing reading the bathroom walls? And taking it serriously no less. The idea is that people who write that have nothing better to do while they're taking a shit. You got a sharpie, then guess what, you're allready accepted to have your peice printed in the Shit Stall Wall Times.

Second, Who the hell is writing that they're building a bomb on the wall? That's...stupid. Now, if you were writing the plans for said bomb, now you're using your time effectively. You know? You have time when you're taking a shit. Look at all the poets that get their start when they got a little extra time?

Some men come to sit and think,
Others come to shit and stink.
I just come to scratch my balls
and write this shit down on the walls.

You see? Good things can happen...kinda... Or even do some of your record keeping. You've seen it. People put numbers up so they won't forget them. Or, if they're a bookie, which they might be if this is the best place they can find to do thier work, then by adding the simple line "For a good time call:", they've suddenly given some sap who doesn't know how to make payments a little more incentive.

Yep, that's the kinda stuff I think of on the john. No, not that john, the other one. The crapper one.

NO. THE ONE WHERE YOU TAKE A SHIT.

But aside from that, today I wrote my DBQ for APUS, and I don't know what'll do for/to my grade, but I wrote the fictional fistfight between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson.

It makes me feel proud.

F*R*A*G: More rocket sauce then one man can handle.

Here I sit, broken hearted,
Tried to shit, but only farted.