Optimus Prime's Roommate is a Dirty Coward.

He filed a report with Campus Police because I watched too much Dexter.

A few little comments about cutting him up into pieces, putting them in garbage bags filled with rocks, and then sinking 'em off my boat, and he goes crying to Public Safety.

What a bitch.

But in all seriousness, he was fully aware that I was referencing Dexter, whether or not he thought I was actually going to do these things (never mind the fact I don't have the tools to cut through bones, nearly enough garbage bags, a car OR a boat with which to even dispose of him properly). And for all the things he's done to me, I've never once said anything except to our R.A., and even still I didn't ask him to do anything about it.

So I had these fucking gadje shadogs all up in my shit, asking me questions, digging through my shit, taking my nearly kicked bottle of vo (my neologism for vodka) and all my fucking knives, razors, and blades.

I'm kinda pissed, not gonna lie. What little respect I had for him is officially lost. And here I thought I was rooming with a man, not a fucking pansy girly baby.

If it wasn't so illegal, or if I wasn't kinda under surveillance, I would challenge him to a duel RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

Optimus Prime is not above changing his appearance to get the ladiez.

So you've probably all heard (I'm assuming that most of my readers are still people that know me personally) that Chiodos and The Fall of Troy were playing in Crotchester 3 days apart from each other. So Chiodos was on Saturday, and Fall of Troy is on Tuesday (tomorrow).
And boy do I have some stories to tell.
It starts typically: about 30 minutes til doors and I don't have a ride.
After calling everyone I know who has a car twice, I finally bribe my friend to give me a ride, and he drops me off about 10 minutes after the first band starts playing.
So, in case you didn't know, Southern California is pretty much the most legit of most music scenes, hip-hop and rap excluded. What this means, is that I am inherently more "brutal" than the entire population of the state of New York, including these hXc kids who take themselves very seriously.
And being the utter humbler I am, I decide to go into the pit and THROW THE FUCK DOWN.
Like, in all honesty, I laid out everyone in there at least once. The best was at this relative lull in the moshing where some 250+ lb. mother fucker thinks he can get the edge in on my by charging his fat ass at me across the empty pit. What he failed to take into account is that little ol' 150 lb. Optimus Prime played tight-end in 10th grade, so I tuck my shoulder down right into his groin-ish area, and literally pick him up and carry him back across the pit into an unforgiving wall of onlookers. The rest of the night went about the same. I busted out some of my two-stepping, threw some shit, got some nice windmill action going - mule kicks weren't allowed though. The security guards weren't having it, so I didn't try it. Anyways, I basically wrecked shit out of all the screamo kids within a 100 mile radius of Rochester. I did, however, lose one lense to my glasses. In my defense, though, the lense was already broken, as was the frame, and the whole apparatus was held together with Krazy Glue, so it wasn't exactly structurally sound to begin with.
I wore my glasses in my pocket for the rest of my dancing during the show.

And in this, I made some friends. Don't ask me to remember their names, because I don't, but they seemed to think I was legit, because I sure as hell didn't go out of MY way to introduce myself after utterly destroying their faces.

I guess my reckless endangerment (or as I like to call it Wreck-ful Fun-danger-ment) didn't go unnoticed, though, because between the second and third bands, two security guards grabbed me. One stood behind me and pinned my arms against my side and started steering me towards the door, the other one walking beside me with a hand on my neck. They got me to just outside the door of the club, and the one behind me says to the one with his hand on my neck something to the effect of "You go out first, we don't need a fight right here." Neck-guy obliges.
I see a small group (3, maybe 4 people) standing there huddled around another person. Great, I figure. I accidentally murdered some dick with my hardcore, and I'm about to get kicked out.
Neck-guy "Is this the guy?" pointing at me, speaking to the group of concerned scenesters.
Scenesters "No."
Arm-guy lets go of me, and without any further explanation, I walk back into the club. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but to the best of my understanding, someone wearing either a headband or a blue shirt (the only two things about me that really stood out in particular in the dark club) must've started a fight with one of the Scenesters. Dodged a bullet there, if I do say so myself.

Mkay, so anyways, the show finishes, it's great, right? The Color Fred, Drop Dead Gorgeous, From First to Last, and Chiodos; all great bands. Well I had run into my roomate's ex-girlfriend's roommate, and she had agreed to give me a ride back to campus at some point during the show (since I hadn't arranged for one of those, either).
Well about 20 minutes pass, doors close, and there's maybe 6 people inside the venue, and no sign of the bitch. She ditched me.
That's when I start asking all the people near me if they were going back to the neighborhood near RIT. Not much luck, until a group of four girls exits the building, and sure enough, 2 of them live like walking distance from campus. I score a ride, and 2 of the girls (the two near RIT) are actually pretty cute, so it works out well in more ways than one.
The fat one driving, though, says that I have to chill for like 15 minutes, because I guess they were on a mission to sell themselves to Craig Owens, the singer for Chiodos.
Needless to say, they failed. I had to knock on two tour buses for them, just to find out that he had left right after the show. Not really surprising, but whatevs.
Anyways, we're riding back, find out one of the girls is taken, the two fat ones live in Buffalo (an hour away, phew!) but the last one is single, cute, and 17!
I get back to RIT, and score some digits. I'll definitely be seeing these ladies around Crotchester, and the two cuter of the 3 single girls addered me on MahSpace.

Yeah, it sounds really trendy and scene and poseurish, but what the fuck, I go with it, because these kids are legitimately cute.
And in keeping with the theme, I give myself a haircut tonight.
It looks like this:

Fuck what you say, I'm gonna be ROLLING in the poon when the chicks get a load of this shit.

Sup, Little Bitches?

THE OG OP is back nigz, and blackah then evah.

But not really.
Quite the opposite, really, because I got another A (was that racist? yeah prob, but chill the cock out, I really am half nigra). This one was for political leadership.
When I'm feeling real bored-like, I'll up that and the Federalism paper too.
Check back in maybe 20 minutes for a new post, like with stories and shit.

Keep Up...

I'm so out of the habit of writing...
I must force myself to at least write in this or, for certain, I shall lose entirely...
That is a part of myself I am oh so unwilling to give up, and yet i'm doing a damn good job of it...
Yet, there is hope. A new laptop, and possibilities of privacy to divvy amongst the circuitry a bevvy of bristling secrets, ones to forge anew the broken pen, sharpen the scattered and rusted verbiage, and bring forth that which lies so scarcely within...
I can only hope that it works...

Oh My Great Golly Goodness.

Whats going on everybody?

Have I ever told any of you how I've had a fatty crush on my neighbor since I was eight years old?

Well I do.

And I have.

Why is this coming up now? Why haven't I said anything before? How does this pertain to me personally?

The answers to these questions and other bits of big news to come soon.

Sorry about the lack of posts lately. Like the other OPiD authors I too have been busy with school and other responsibilities.

So believe it or not...

I've actually been doing school work.
I know, I know.
It's crazy, y'all.
So, as a treat, I'll make a legit post later.

And by "legit post" I really mean "transcription of my A essay from my Local and State Politics test."

LOOK FORWARD TO LEARNING ABOUT FEDERALISM!

Earthday Birthday

Is it somewhat ironic that I've been doing 9 hours of Envi Sci homework on my semi-birthday eve?

Oh well...

Happy Birthday to me I guess, big 18.
~C

Number Two for a Number One

Well, romantics aside now...
It's been pretty uppity. Band's been a real pain, and Lazer's probably been feeling the heat as well from all of our college stuff...
But it's good to get some of this experience in. It'll help us later when we're stressing over far more important things on a much smaller time scale...

Honestly though, There's very little relaxation ever...

Maybe during summer...

And I'd find a girl....

Yeah, that'd be nice.

But like hell if that's gonna happen.

Laters~

I been Lazy....But that's a Lie...

Ahhh, It's been too long...
Much too long. And I have a lot to say as well...
To lovers lost and lovers longing, may you find some peace.
Oh, and also, I really don't like Toni Morrison. Not a good writer...

Now then...Life's been kind of interesting lately...Colleges have been shouting stuff blindy and people left and right, saying yes to some, no to others. But I'm glad I got into my UCSC, 'cause hopefully it will give me a change I may be needing. Been crazy busy though.
It doesn't feel like busy anymore though. It just feels like usual...which is scary. As active as I am, I'd rather not keep this as the norm. It's just too much...you light a fire too big, and your fuel's gonna be gone in a bright blaze... I don't want that. Haven't experienced enough to want something like that to happen already...

Yet the days grow long and listless sometimes....I've sat up nearly a consectutive week now until the early morn, 1 and 2AM, waiting for my mind to stop yapping. Sometimes It is happy, sometimes it is sad, but it's always chattering...
Advice from a friend was to take some cold medicine, stop the chatter, and live with mind in peace. But I don't want that either...

Curse my romantic heart, but if I have a thought, I want it to flow through my, whether I spark fire or gleam ice, whether I am strung up in vast mortal coils or suspended elegantly within a vast empty light. I won't stuff that thought, not ever, regardless. I can't do that...I can't stifle something like that, because it is all I have...If you put a plug in your soul, it might not try to spew so often as it does...

Just like the heart...The heart doesn't like being contained...Heartache may hurt, but it is better to let it loose than to bottle it, creating some cruel and unusual self-detonating atomic weapon...I learned that most recently...

So, I say, in a vacuous gratuity of lethargy: Let your heart free, you soul to ferment and make merry wine...you'll be thankful for it later...

~L

New comic

Be sure to check it, before you wreck it.

"Gay Marriage" on Two 'Y' Chromosomes

Oh boy, what a day.

forgot i didn't have political parties and voting today, so i skated down to building 1, just to tun around and skate back to Colby F. All was not for naught, though, because i realized how spring-y it was. People were lying on the grass in front of Gleason, at least 3 different groups of people were playing frisbee, and there were a bunch of skaters, bikers, and rollerbladers. So in the spirit of the season, I dumped my shit at my room and head back out to carve some of the better hills I've found around campus. And it was awesome. I skated for about an hour and 15 minutes, and I was pretty much winded. I know longboarding doesn't seem like it should take a lot of energy, but it does. The best part is carving down hills, and that will tire one's legs out real quick. Not to mention, you have to skate uphill before you skate downhill. So anyways, I'm done, and I'm skating back to dorm side. For whatever reason, I decide to go the way that leads me past my favorite hill on campus (the first good one I found) and i can't help but to skate down it. I'm carving and all seems well, until I make a sharp toe-side curve and something happens. Something BAD happens.
I don't know if my wheel slid, got caught on a pebble, or both, but the result is tragic. I fly through the air, and basically end up horizontal in the air. I just barely manage to throw my left hand and right elbow backwards (I have scratches to prove it), but not quite soon enough. My head slams on the ground. My glasses pop off and the delinquent lense (i'm sure you all know the one) flies out. Needless to say, i'm a little stunned. But not too bad. I stand up, put together my glasses and put them back on my face, and grab my board. I walked back up the hill, and then skate back down it because, i mean, come on, it's one of the most fun hills on campus. Granted, i take it more slowly this time, and just cruise past the SLC. I do a quick self-administered concussion test and pass. No loss of memory, no dizziness, i didn't black out. I have a massive headache, and my necks a little sore, but that's cool. Normal.
And then it strikes me to feel for the inherent bump on my scalp. Pretty grapefruit sized. And then i notice that my fingers are sticky. Closer inspection proves that they are covered in blood. I skated to the Health Center straight from there.
I see a doctor fairly quickly, and turns out i need stitches. For future reference, RIT's health center cannot do stitches. Its around this point i notice the blood dripping down the back of my neck. Sweet.
Another 30 minutes or so to find out that the afterhours center and all the local hospitals are full. Like... to the brim. So after another 30 minutes or so of trying to find a ride to the walk-in center, I end up having to call a taxi. Whoopie.
20 minutes later and the taxi comes and drops me off. There's $15 i wont be getting back. I proceed to check in and that takes a good 30 minutes (computer problems). During this time a fat black chick comes and just basically is annoying.
Girl: Excuse me, how much longer are you going to be?
Receptionist: Just a few minutes, I have to finish checking him [that's me] in.
Girl: My pinky's bleeding through my shirt!
That's right. She was getting bitchy over her pinky, and she's so ghetto, she's wrapped it in a shirt. Not gauze, paper towels, napkins, tissues, or even a towel. Just a shirt. So the receptionist obliges her wraps it up in some gauze. Crisis averted.
I'm immediately seen after check-in (one of the few benefits of head injuries) and get cleaned up. I need staples. I get staples. I get seven staples. And a tetanus shot. I was overdue. By several years.
The best/worst part is that I was next to the pinky girl, seperated by a curtain. Boy, was she a bitch. She was complaining about how the novacaine didn't numb her pink 100% before she got the stitches, and the doctor (whom I appreciate for hating her as much as I did) had to explain that that's impossible, especially in the fingers, which have high concentrations of nerve-endings. Meanwhile, I'm getting SEVEN staples in my head, and the novacaine wears off after about FIVE staples, and I don't make a peep. Whoever thinks women have a higher tolerance for pain than men is just plain stupid, or something. So stupid.
My stupid roommate john has to pick me up and it's now 9:30. 4 hours of the first day of true spring wasted, and all because of a stupid rock.

Drained.

Seriously, School can be vampiric...
Overbooked, Overclocked, Overworked...
I know I haven't been writing here consistently, but with a near constant 14 hour a day work schedule, it's about all I can do...

Next week for sure...maybe something over the weekend if I'm feeling romantic and glitzy...
See you guys..
~C

April Fools

We're still trucking.


For now.


Check out TYC, though.
New update tomorrow-ish!

Pack it Up

Alright.

It's obvious to me that noone reads this shit, and after lots of thinking and discussion, Lazer and i have decided to nip this shit in the bud.

Sorry, guys.
Farewell, Adios, Bonsoir, all that good stuff.

See you on the Other side,
-Optimus Prime