Retard Girl

i'm angry at allowing myself to be scared of D. even though i know i could kick her ass. only being the better person has stopped me...

could they have pissed some people off by coming into their country and telling them they're not doing religion right?

i meant... dammit. foiled again~!

*pokes Spike on the shoulder, harder than nessicary.* Oh hi, me again. I'm here for your title?

random amusements from Manson vs Tod... the Raging Bull is but an annoyed calf as he's on the mat being controlled by the Canadian. Tod succesfully convinces Eddy Long to back away for a few seconds and then urges him to look at the most unbelievable sight "over there". Ever faithful to his curious stereotype, Eddy Long indeed looks at whatever might be "there", yet sadly finds nothing. He even manages to get referee Eddy Long's attention by furiously grabbing at his shirt and pull him in closer. broken commentary tables are love. good stuff.

This time, Pete doesn't wait for the crowd to answer, instead immediately stepping forward, lifting the microphone up, and clubbing Arne Andersen over the head with it! there's using your mic skills! ...has the ringing of the bell over and over ever stopped any beatdown... ever? hahaa, at Spike telling me to get him a sandwich. it's on now! the random party bits amuse me. no offense, and not pointing to anyone in paticular... paragraphs, people, paragraphs. just on the account that it makes it easier to read. i may not be in the place to be giving any kind of constructive crit, but... it's too late now so let's move on! welcome back, Longdongger Pete. another name for me to mispronounce in a promo XD more to come.....

but beatdowns make the show awesome! ask Russo!!

i plugged my holes, baby. .... i mean... um... fuck.

i like to watch the skateboard kids. with binoculars. from my windowless van. behind the school...

i got owned by dodgeballs in the 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th grades. SHOCK EH?

i read it as the cop came to harass the guy about his left-turning ways. but it was written as the guy didn't know if the cop showed or not.

Wow. Read much? apparently i misread the reply. thank you for pointing this out.

cheap vodka and internet porn.

yeah, no shit. he was doing the left correctly if anything. retards. all of them. especially the cop.

....wait, it's illegal to make left turns on a bike? that's retarded.

perfect if you like legs.

and i have an apartment. it's bigger than my last and has a quirky layout. and a real kitchen. it's down the ghetto street i used to live on. i was down there looking at the place, and the radios were blasting Latinoish jams and it felt strangely comforting. it's like moving back home almost.

Inside the large locker room sit several people. DVS people. X-Punk and Kevin Riggs of Team Canada, Hardcore Jammer, and Spyke. Jammer is pacing back and forth, already in his gear and ready to go. Spyke is sitting alone on the far end of the bench, listening to his iPod and reading a magazine. X-Punk and Riggs are sitting on the other end of the bench, sipping on beers, looking like Canadian rednecks. "Hey guys, it's good to see y'all here." Taiga Star says as she walks into the room. "I just wanted to stop in and see how you guys were doing." Jammer comes to shake her hand. "Taiga, thank you for getting us this opportunity. I know that I'm excited to be getting my name out there, I'm geared up and ready to go." X-Punk pipes up with an air of sarcasm, "Yeah, this is gonna be an excellent opportunity, eh?" He nudges his Team Canada cohort, Kevin Riggs. He agrees and they both chuckle with an exaggerated evilness. "What's that supposed to mean?" Taiga says, locking eyes with X-Punk as she walks up and gets in his face. "Well?" X-Punk straightens up and stares back down... down... down at Taiga. They don't exchange any words, but their stares echo loudly through the room. Jammer runs over and gets between them. "Guys, guys, guys! We all know we've had our own personal grudges with each other, but fucking let it go. Here we are all on the same fucking team! Lets just go out there and win." Taiga backs off, not breaking the stare with X-Punk. X-Punk smirks. "Yeah... opportunities." Spyke notices this all, but doesn't bother to get up, as he's only in it for himself. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taiga Star is laying in a shady area under a group of trees behind el Jose Miguel Agrelot Coliseum, located in a sunny and obnoxiously hot Hato Rey, Puerto Rico. She is sitting on a folding chair, her legs propped up on a cooler, and a bag of ice is balanced on her head. She appears to be sleeping... at least, until the camera boy startles her out of her chair. "AHHHH FUCK!!" She bolts upright, ready to take on who or whatever woke her up. The bag of ice goes flying to the ground, ice spilling about. It meets there with a refreshing drink of Pepsi that was knocked over, mingling into a sticky mess. "Fuck kid... don't do that to me again." She moves and steps on scattered ice cubes with her bare feet. "Fuck... dammit! Look at this mess.!!" She snatches the bag of ice and ties off the top before sitting in her chair. She reaches into the cooler and pulls out a bottle of water, which she drinks half of in a few gulps. After calming down, she speaks in a promo-like tone. Imagine that! "Sorry I snapped at ya, kid." Taiga says. "It's the heat. Fat girls hate when it gets hot out. I see everyone running around saying how nice it is out. Nice? You call not being able to breathe nice? You call sweat stinging your eyes NICE!?" She places the bag of ice on her head. "It's just making me irritable and cranky. And angry! You know who made me angry earlier? X-Punk. There's no surprise there, one of us pissing the other off. It was just in the way he said it, you know?" She sits forward, bag of ice placed on her lap. "I mean... when everyone got back together to do the Memorial show, people would come to me, asking about what I was doing. I mentioned the SWF... some of them begged me to talk to Landon and Toxxic about seeing if they can get try-out matches. And me, being the decent person I am, I said that I would try to get them in. "Some people may not know this, but everyone should... I don't exactly have a lot of friends. And I put the word up for some people that I don't really like. Because I'm a nice guy. Girl. Whatever." Taiga sits up, moving the bag of ice to her upper back. "I mean, Jammer seems to be into this. And Spyke seems... well, yeah, he'll be okay as long as he gets paid. But I don't trust Riggs and X-Punk. "I did trust them, at one time. We had a nice little stable going. Hardcore Foundation. We had a lot of fun with that too... until X-Punk and Riggs... well, they decided they wanted to be Team Canada, so they turned on me. To tell you the truth though, I should have known better than to place my trust in others. Hindsight, they say, is always 20/20." Taiga opens the cooler to place the bag of ice inside. She stuffs her feet into a pair of ripped and safety-pinned purple hightop Converse (one of the few times you will see her without boots, btw). "Oh, and speaking of the Memorial Show... X-Punk pissed me off that night too. We were the last ones left in our Survivor Series match. A momentous event, two hated enemies, the final fight to show dominance... You know how it ended? A fucking DQ. X-Punk brings in a chair, I get caught with it. I mean, hell... If I wanted to bring in a chair, I would have. I had it handled without resorting to those measures. Apparently, X-Punk had other ideas. I hold him that I would get my hands on him eventually." Taiga turns to gather her things. "Today is not that day, however. Today..." She turns back around, swinging a large backpack over her shoulders. "Today, is the day of Orden Noash, some big angry broody hoss that I'm sure wants to kick my ass. Just another night at the office, right?" She folds her chair and slides it between her and her backpack, in the style of how kids carry their skateboards. A strap is pulled from the cooler and placed over Taiga's shoulder. She pulls a rag out of her pocket and wipes the sweat off her face. She has one last thing to say before she goes inside. "Though, if it's just another night at the office, why do I have this bad feeling?"

oh man, i'm not getting this done by tomorrow. i've got to cut back on my fedding a little i think. SIGH. and yes, i'm still freaked out a little by my plans going kaplooey.

and something else i hate about my mother... when i eat something she gets all "why do you use (insert sauce here) on your food, you don't even taste the food, it ruins it" etc etc... but she drowns everything shne eats in salt and pepper. she doesn't even take a taste of the food before pouring the salt and pepper on. i could fill 30 pages on just what i hate about the woman.

being fat in any fast food place makes one a target. even if it's my bi-monthly fast food visit (and i mean every other month, not twice a month) you're automaticlly looked at as "you obviously eat here three times a day put down the burger you cow". the ciggarette companies and McDonalds do have something in common... people choose to eat or smoke, it's not like they're forcing the Big Mac down your throat and the smoke into your lungs. people just love to sue i guess. anything to avoid blaming themselves for the situation they've gotten themselves into. something else i hate - the way my mother treats my father. he's an old man, works sixty hours a week, and busts his ass around the house, doing all the chores, driving people around, fixing things up... because my mother and sister are two of the weakest women i've ever known. but yet, my mother has the huevos to say that he never does anything around the house. i actually raised my voice to her about it. "YEAH I KNOW DAD IS JUST THE LAZIEST FUCK ON EARTH RIGHT?" he's spent the day rearranging furnature and hanging shades in the window and cooking and washing the dishes and cleaning up outside. seriously. i've vowed to never be as weak and useless as her.

it's a really lame excuse, that's what i don't understand. lying to one's self, i don't understand. oh, fat people suing McDonalds for making them fat... that's rediculous. like people suing ciggarette makers for giving them cancer. or suing a gun manufactuer because they got shot. and dumb shit like that.

i can't explain, as i find diet sodas to be horrid. it has this aftertaste which coats my tongue with this salty... something. and those chemincals are so bad for a person. not that regualr soda is any better. how about a nice ice water?