This contains quotes from my actual 'friends.' I hate all of my 'friends' so much.

Brace Yourself Assholes

I Am So GODDAMN Tired of being reminded of being less hygienic. I don't wash my hair. BIG FUCKING DEAL! If it really goddamn annoys you, go blow you GODDAMN brains out. I have not gone one day this month without my lack of cleanliness being mentioned. Maybe I think it's more comfortable when my hair is greasy. Maybe my high school career isn't solely about self consciousness. Just because you're socially awkward, doesn't give you any right in hell to mock my goddamn hair. Everybody that is viewing this has done it. Whether it was a 'Gentle Reminder' of my hygiene habits, or a full blown "WHY DON'T YOU WASH YOUR HAIR?" or "THAT'S GROSS." It's so GODDAMN irritating. I guarantee that if Greasy Hair was popular, or it was a the new trend, then all of you wouldn't wash your hair. If any of you fucking deny any of this, I want you to goddamn back it up with evidence and a plausible excuse.

I Am So GODDAMN Tired of your GODDAMN cell phones. This is mostly addressed to anybody that texts more than 10 text messages a day. My theory why people text: Socially awkward, self conscious teenagers wanting to look occupied, to prevent being thought of as 'nerdy' or 'weird.' Because we wouldn't want that would we? You don't want to look weird in front of you friends do you? So maybe if we all text, I'll be thought highly of. Won't that make you so GODDAMN rebellious and individual. Every time I get a text message, It's about something pointless. The only good reason why people should text, or even use phones in general, should be to COMMUNICATE with one another. Communicate in terms of: an actual conversation. Texting should be communication, but if you're in a crowded, loud place, and need to send a quick message, where if you called the person, it would be inaudible. Unlike my suggestion, you IGNORANT FUCKS decide to send pointless messages, with impossible to decipher words, and idiotic chain messages, or whoreish pictures of yourself to your goddamn douche bag boyfriend.

I Am So GODDAMN Tired of your idiotic agreements with me. You don't even know what the hell I'm talking about half the time! My simple vocabulary is far too advanced for you! Do I need a GODDAMN translation? Am I that GODDAMN Cryptic? When I mock corporations, you probably nod your head, and add in an occasional "Yea, I know, they suck" or something like that. You don't even know any alternatives to Corporate ignorance do you? GODDAMMIT it fucking annoys me.

I Am So GODDAMN Tired of you self conscious, cliquey, conformist TREND WHORES!!! You don't even know how much it FUCKING irritates me when you clean yourself up for half an hour for a day of sitting in school for 6 hours. Nobody cares what you look like. Anybody that does is a Jackass. But you want to be friends with everybody don't you? You don't want to be a 'Loner' do you? 'Cuz then you might look Nerdy, and we wouldn't FUCKING want that!!! You goddamn pretend you enjoy whatever is GODDAMN popular! Twilight, for example, is the biggest joke I've ever attempted to read. Yes, I read some of Twilight. It sucks. You ASSHOLES pretended to hate reading before Twilight. Now don't throw around that BULLSHIT that it's a good book, and that's why it's popular, because that's HORSESHIT. YOU ARE HORSESHIT. Twilight is a the worst thing the corporations have excreted in the last 10 years, and trust me, in the last 10 years, a lot of SHIT has been produced. But it seems that you don't have opinions! You do what's popular. You listen to what's popular. You dress in what's popular. And don't give me and crap about how Hollister (or any other generic preppy store) is comfier. I know you wear it because it's what others are wearing. You can get the same GODDAMN clothes at half (or less) of the price. It's indescribable how much FUCKING PISSED OFF I get when I simply think of you wearing that shit. Stop caring what people think of you!!! SERIOUSLY!!! DO WHAT YOU GODDAMN WANT TO DO!!!

I Am So GODDAMN Tired of your noise. This *Noise* can hardly be called music, because music requires the following: Real...Instruments. These producers could at least use samples! But that sounds too 'Real' doesn't it? Even 'Rock' (I hesitate to call this shit rock, because it's actually corporate pop, but it uses real samples, and they actually sing) sucks today. But it's better than your pop. If I hear "Oh, (S)he's such a good singer!" I'll FUCKING PUKE. They don't sing!!! They use synthesizers to move there voice up and down. You can GODDAMN HEAR IT!!! Take it from somebody who produces his own music! (Just a few demo tracks, and it can hardly be considered producing)

I swear to god, if any of you agree with me, I'll shoot myself in the fucking head.

Some people were not mentioned in this, but you know who you are if you were.
If you were, You need to...

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hai
Stranger: we may be strangers
You: we may
Stranger: but we're no strangers to love
You: U KNOW THE RULES AND SO DO I
Stranger:
A full commitments what Im thinking of
You: You're not gonna get this from any other guy
Stranger: I just wanna tell you how Im feeling
You: wanna make you understand
Stranger: never gonna give you up
You: NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN
Stranger: Never gonna run around and desert you
You have disconnected.

yes, you just got rick rolled...but this just happened

Using this website I got a ton of free albums. I got the entire beatles discography, a ton of Pink Floyd albums including: Atom Heart Mother, Soundtrack for More, Saucerful Of Secrets, Wish You Were Here, Meddle.

Just remember to only download .zip files, because .rar files don't work (at least on my computer.)

I think I've pretty much finished writing that blues song. It's hardly a blues song now, and it's starting to sound a bit like DSOTM Era of Pink Floyd.

David Gilmour is a great guitarist, I could never appreciate it with just Animals and The Wall, but he really is something.

I just got banned from Habbo Hotel! I was doing as 4chan's /b/ told me to.

I sent the site this message:

"Dear Sir/Madam
About ten minutes ago I was sitting around the 'Pool Deck' when a lot of disruptive habbos came in and said something about AIDS and pool closure. Of course, completely confused, I decided it was best to leave. However, they blocked my exit, and when some of them finally left I tried to leave.
I can only assume the moderator believed it was I who was causing the disruption, because they then banned me.
Please may I receive further information on why this ban was justified? Have I committed an offense? If so, I apologize fully ,and I implore you to detail me so I can avoid making this mistake again. I do not believe I had committed any offense.
Thank you "

Cough Drops. Why are they called 'Drops?'

I mean, If they're eye drops, then it makes sense, because it's a drop of water, but why are they called drops when its a solid object you put in your mouth.

My dad wants me to go to a concert with him. There aren't any good bands coming to our area. The only decent band coming is Black Label Society, and I don't even like them.
Jeff Beck is coming to 'The House Of Blues' but it's sold out.

I've noticed something lately: Our little group of friends on Newgrounds 'TheSilverGuitar, DanTheBard (9001), FurryOwlet, etc.) are starting to meet up on Youtube. What's next? We all become friends on Myspace or Facebook? Then we all have phone sex? Then we meet up and have discussions of Sarah Palin's Butt Nipples?

When Are You Ever Going To Need This Knowledge? I love WikiHow, pointless articles give me lols.

This Video Is Such A Fail...

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Also: Meet My Clitoris.

As I walk home from the bus on that Friday afternoon, I notice how much colder it got from the recent warm spell. The weather was unpredictable during the early spring in Washington. This past winter was rough. We lost power a few times, but the worst part about the winter, was the snow. The endless mass of white, blanketing every rooftop, every tree, and static object in it's path.

'Why didn't you bring your sweatshirt?' said somebody in our convoy who noticed the shivering on my pale face. That's what it's like after the bus drops us off, we're a convoy. Our stop has the most kids at it, and we all live relatively on the same street, so it's as if we're one big convoy.

I realize that the person who spoke was Josh, a 'cookie cutter' Christian, who preaches 'the word' to anybody who touches anything close to the subject. "I left it in my locker, the damn thing never opens right, so I just gave up." I replied, while wrapping my arms around my body. I didn't wrap my arms around me to stay warm, it had become a nervous habit I picked up a year ago.

Josh nervously looked at me, with an expression of distaste when I said 'damn thing.' He always did this. He thought that just because he's a prude intolerant zealot, he has the authority to stop peoples vulgarity. I hated him sometimes. I guess the only reason why I could tolerate him, was how long we've known each other. I've known him for 3 years. To most people, this doesn't seem like a long time, but I move every 2 or 3 years, so this is a very long relationship for me.

My father has a corporate job making circuit boards, or something. I didn't care much about his job. I try to give him a hint at this, but he never takes it, and he takes me to his work on Saturdays on occasions. I always are forced to wait in his office, and doodle on any paper I can find.

About a third of our convoy parts with us, going to the street, perpendicular to the street we were on. With a few waves, and goodbyes, they depart to there houses, off to do their homework, or play video games. I was one of the few people that don't play video games in our school. For an eight grader, I was a rare find. I never played video games, never had a girlfriend, didn't play sports, etc.

We get to Josh's street, and he departs with a silent nod, and I return the nod of acknowledgment. By this point I was alone, and was on the 'home stretch', as I liked to call it, of the walk to my house. I see my neighbors dog outside, and recall how worried I used to get when I saw him, thinking he ran away. I used to always ring their doorbell, with the dog in hand, and tell them that I caught the dog. I later assumed that they do this all the time, they just let the dog out. I felt a wave of embarrassment, and regret wash over me, as I recalled this.

As I walk onto the drive way of my house, I notice that my mother had taken the Halloween decorations down while I was at school. Today was 'All Saints Day,' the day after Halloween, and I remember exactly what I was doing last year. I remember that I had wrestling practice. I used to wrestle, and I detested it. I only did it because I thought that it would make me tough. I was mistaken, and I learned that I have no physical strength in the process. I remember waiting outside with Jared, another person on the wrestling team, discussing what we did on Halloween. I remember that I was Jason, from the 'Friday the 13th' movies. I had all of this fake blood smeared over my hockey mask. It had fascinated me at the time.

This year though, I didn't dress up, I just put on a sweatshirt (it had been really cold out) and took my backpack. I had met up with some friends, Josh was one of them, along with a few of Josh's friends and neighbors, that I didn't know. Eventually, I had split up with them, to go with my best friend, Richard, who was dressed up as a zombie, or so he said. I think he just fell down, or something, and ripped his shirt. It was a sorry-ass costume. I had met Richard at his house, as he was grabbing his skateboard, in his garage. We had ding-dong-ditched pretty much every house on his street that night. It was extremely fun. I did childish stuff like that all of the time. I got some sort of thrill out of it.

I suddenly snap back into reality, as I bump into the garage door. In my state of recollection, I had forgot my surroundings. I punched in the code on the garage door, and it opened.

As I walked in the garage, I notice that my Mom is not home, because her car isn't there. This was odd, she would usually tell me that she would be going somewhere.

I walk inside, and take some of the candy that my sister collected the night before into my hand, and walk upstairs to my room. I finish the candy as I am walking up the stairs, and drop the wrappers in the trash can in the bathroom near the top of the stairs. As I walk into my room, I notice that it was clean, and everything was picked up. Not that my room is extremely messy, but my guitar was on the rack, instead of the ground, also my clothes weren't on the ground anymore, I guess my mom must have put them into the wash.

I grab my guitar, and start playing 'Let It Die' by The Foo Fighters. I had just learned it the other day. I had tried to commit to learning that whole album, but I was far too lazy, and too ADD to do it.

I hear the garage door opening, and know that it's either my sister, or my mom. I continue playing guitar, and I hear heavy footsteps coming through the door, leading from the garage to the house. It can't be my mom or my sister, because their footsteps are must less heavy then those. It's probably my dad, I think, as I turn my guitar's volume knob to 0, listening for signs of who it is. When I hear the footsteps stop, I put the guitar down on my bed, where I was sitting, and start descending down the stairs.

As I reach the final step, I see no signs of entry, or any disturbance at all. It couldn't have been my imagination, I thought, as I turned around to see if my father had gone on the computer for some reason.

I see nobody on the computer, so I continue my search in the kitchen. It seemed that nobody was there, so I grab some more candy, and decide to go back upstairs. As my hand reaches the bowl of candy, I hear fast movements behind me, I try to turn, but I am struck with a hard object, and fall out of consciousness

and I can prove it.

The picture is relevant

Sex...

Where may I acquire it?

It has been discussed in tales of lore,
'tis it difficult to have
or to take?

Nay 'tis not

For there is a solution...

What is it?

My dad stole my drumsticks.

He's such a jackass.

Well, you see, I like to throw my drumsticks into my wall.

It's in my room, so he has no authority over what happens in there.

The 'I bought the house, it's my room' thing wouldn't apply, because I'm in there because I have no

choice...I'm 14.

So he comes down last night, really pissed off, because there's a hole in the wall, very small. (there's always been holes in the wall, and he hasn't cared, but for some reason, since there's one more hole, he's really pissed off.) So he lectures me, then storms upstairs.

I get home today, play some guitar, then I go over to my drum set, and I see no sticks nearby. I look everywhere in my house, and find it in my dad's closet. He has no right to take what I own.

Yea, whatever, I'm spoiled whatever.

I don't care if he takes away my Xbox, or my ability to watch television, I wouldn't care, I don't play/ watch them much anyways. But when he takes away my musical instruments away from me, I find it cruel, and idiotic.

Everybody check out the record label 'Silent Uproar Records' They have a lot of really good bands, like Stemage and Codaphonic. Oh great, now I'm advertising. But seriously check them out.

I got that album 'OK Computer' by Radiohead. It's actually pretty good. I almost expected it to suck, because I hate U2, and people have told the that Radiohead sounds like U2.

I also got the book 'Communist Manifesto' by Karl Marx.

I have a big Algebra project due tomorrow that I haven't even started yet. I have to draw something on a graph, then tell the dimensions, then give the formula. I don't know how to do any of those, but I need to do it TWICE! Two different pictures. I already finished one picture, and I'm going to do the other, and then give the formula for both tonight. I hate math so much. I hate my school so much. They banned flannel pajama pants. Not that that is going to change my habits, I'm still wearing what I want, if I wanted to be ordered around about what to wear, I'd go back to private school.

This picture is extremely related