Far from handsome

"Yo."

Beep.

After careful consideration of the facts, your feelings, the evidence and the general societal norms that we live in, I’m afraid I will simply have to cordially invite you to go fuck yourself.

...

LOL, j/k all y'all. That's my prompt, or whatev. Obs, 'cuz I don't write like that. Not that I couldn't, yo. Do peeps think I can't?

Hello. My name is Todd. This is me, writing, with correctitude. I know there are sometimes g's on the end of words.

I can talk like that too if I rilly rilly want, but you gotta imagine it as kinda like when a stand-up comedian does a impression a how white peeps be talkin'. Which's not how my tongue talks nor my feet on no pen or keyboard neither.

Anyway. I didn't be feelin' my journal this last week. No. Not even meme's. Yea, no. I know. Blasphemy.

But it's been the kinda weather lates that be my kinda weather, which's in laymen terms known as "Swamp Ass". Like a hundred degrees an' muggy. Like the whole world's a big sauna. Like everybody an' they moms just got outta the shower an' left the door open. Wicked killer.

So I been all up in The Park (which in NYC you don't gotta say which one, like when you live just outside a NYC, an' you just say, 'I'm goin' inta The City'; everybody know whatchoo mean). 1.) I ain't the kinda douche who be bringin' no computer to the park, yo. 2.) MMM-mmm-MMM: bug central. 3.) I done also seen more kitty cats on leashes than I ever needed to in my life. It's sad yo. The itty bitty kitty committee belongs at home. For srs. 'Specially if it's small enough that I start thinkin' I could totes fit it in my mouth.

An' don't even try an 'aw sick' at me: you eaten Chinese food before, you done ate pussy. Aw yeah. I went there.

Oh, Suck. My paid account's almost up.

The third foster fam they shacked me up with, the guy used to come in my room at night an' touch me.

The first lady used to smack me around fo' not washin', but she wasn't careful 'bout where she be leavin' bruises, so she got the boot. The next place, they figured out I was allergic to soap an' gave me back 'cause they wasn't equipped to deal with no "special needs" kids.

The third fam, he touched me. An' you know the kinda touchin' I mean. The bad touch. Close yo' eyes an' open wide. "Do you think it's alright to leave the boy with Uncle Ernie"/"Point to the places on this doll" style. I never done that. They don't do court with peeps like that, they just shuffle you around again.

I was nine.

The last foster fam they shacked me up with, the guy tried to come into my room one night an' touch me.

They both was wicked normal lookin', with wives. You'd think they could get theyselves a less gross kid to perv up on, but I guess not. Maybe that's what they was into. Or, 'course, obs it be my fault, what with my provocative dress an' airs, yo.

Whatev. I kicked that sick fuck hard as I could; broke alla his ribs an' punctured a lung.

I was fourteen.

S'why I tried to kill myself.

'Cuz it happened again. An' if it happened again, s'what I figured, nothin' sayin' it won't happen again. Prolly it'll happen again. It'll keep happenin'. An' I couldn't face the thought a it keepin' happenin'.

An' then some kids wouldn't let me in on they b-ball game, so I tried to kill myself an' a buncha my Frosh class.

An' then the X-geeks brain-whammied it all away.

I don't be tellin' peeps nothin'. I ain't drama. I don't be cuttin' myself or stavin' myself. I don't puke 'less I'm sick. I don't drink or do drugs. I don't fuck around. I don't cry about it. I don't ask nobody to be around, even. I'm dumb but harmless.

I don't ask nobody for nothin'.

This's stuff that happened to me. There's way more. It don't matter. I'ma never be right. I know it. But not unright enough to stop.

That's all I gotta say.

S'like my subject line's a ghost all up in yo' face.

But srsly. I just tried to watch the first halfa The Andromeda Strain (they had me at the tag line. "It's a bad day to be human." Yeah it is too, flatscans; yeah it is too.), but there was some problemo goin' on (an' it had to be from A&E's end, 'cuz it wasn't happenin' on no other channel). We talkin' almost totes unwatchable sound AN' picture.

An' also it was boring as crap, but there was a shot a side-boob, an' also boobs covered in foam.

Not so hot as it sounds.

Yo, Harry: when an' where we meetin' tomorrow? I can't remember if we said rite now. An' I like how irresponsible askin' you all up like this looks. But whatev, s'easier if it got it's own post in my journal.

No crime sprees planned. No worries.

http://toys.about.com/od/games/ss/hulkgames_3.htm

Seems ol' Hulk-y's made a bombs. An' lightning. An' teddy bears.

Aight then.

Back where I come from, they already made this movie a coupla years ago with the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon guy, which you think woulda kicked, but actually it bombed, hardcore. Just fyi.

...Aight. On account a my general dumbity an' the fact that Professor X an' the Xtacles already baked my brain like a egg, can everybody just tell me if you is you?

Thnx.

http://john-ispyro.livejournal.com/74811.html

What. Le. Fuck?

I dunno who wouldn't a heard by now, but yeah: the rumors is true.

I am takin' me some classes in X-Geek land.

You think I drank the Kool Aid, don'tcha? Well, I didn't. S'just somethin' that happened an' I'm goin' with it, 'cuz that'd be the story a my life an' it ain't played me too too wrong yet. With, y'know, some obs exceptions. That I don't really wanna go into.

I ain't livin' there or nothin'. I ain't roommate-guy.

An' it ain't, y'know, no different. I been in the place before, plenty. Broke in a buncha times, even with all they fancy security an' Wolverines, 'cuz that's how 1337 my skillz be.

But I ain't impressed or nothin'. This ain't my awe face. Nobody tried to kill me yet, or pound my face in, or flush my head down the toilet an' I'll give 'em they dues fo' that. Golf claps, or whatev. I still ain't about to let my guard down. I just also ain't about to be the one startin' somethin'. S'all on them.

They ain't callin' me toad. I figure it prolly takes time to come up with somethin' less obs but as effective.

When stuff starts goin' too good, I start feelin weird. I dunno.

Like I'm waiting for some other shoe drop. Even tho I didn't see no first shoe droppin' or whatev. Shoe drops: what ever is all up with that? I dunno.

It's totes r-tarded, right? Like I said: I dunno. An' I don't really feel like thinkin' about it til I do.

Screw that numerology noise. S'all wrong. Blah blah blah. My name means "fox". WHATEV.

1. What color does your hair look like when it's wet?
Brown.

( An' many moooooooar... )

1. Ask me three questions you want to know the truth to.
2. I will pick two of them to answer
3. One I will tell the truth about
4. One I will lie about (the last you will have to try and answer for me)
5. Post this in your journal so others can ask you.

Like peeps be needin' a meme as a excuse to lie. Pfft. Bring it.

I think, even tho I could totes be wrong, but I think peeps prolly be lookin' at me an' thinkin' I'm, like, shy. Or embarrassed. Like a my body. I ain't. I don't care who be seein' me however. It's all whatev. The only reason I didn't change fo' gym class in front a everybody's 'cuz I always skipped gym class. Gym class is the vacation land-o-the jocks.

But I got no prob takin' off my shirt in front a nobody, or wearin' a swimsuit. I ran around in spandex for years, yo. Even bein' naked really don't bother me, 'cuz it basically don't matter. ...Unless it's surprise, unexpected nudity, an' then it's, y'know, the surprise more an' anything, but yeah, you gonna get the "Eep, my boy-bits is on display", reaction. But other than that, it's like: yeah pretty much from lookin' at me in clothes, you can guess how I be lookin' without 'em, an' yeah, pretty much that's what I look like. So there's no point in makin' any kinda deal 'bout it. Bones an' thighs. That's it.

I don't like goin' to the doctor 'cuz they don't just look, they touch. An' by touchin', they decide stuff. So basically, what they be doing when they touch you is judgin' you. An' they do it by, when they touch you, talkin' in that fake-nice-sooth-y voice that adults try an' use to hypnotize you or distract you or whatev, but the whole time touchin' you up, an' that makes for a bad scene for me, aight?

Mind docs do exactly the same thing, 'cept with your head. They be wantin' you to tell all you stuff, but not 'cuz they care, but 'cuz they use the stuff you tell 'em to decide what up with you. Again, that's judgin' you. They want you just to out an' tell stuff too. They don't even ask stuff.

Not that that's outta the normal.

There's a lotta stuff I never tell nobody, 'cuz nobody never asks. Like they never ask why stuff is, they just figure it's "because", when that's almost never what it is. But why should I get up on a soap box (ew) an' scream all my why's out when peeps don't care enough to wonder 'bout 'em?

So I don't.

So that's that thing.

An' also now you all know what I look like naked an' HA.

http://tm-magik.livejournal.com/12594.html?thread=289330#t289330

...I'ma kick JP. In his nuts. In his nuts.

ETA:

Geez. I ain't gonna for srs.

'Cuz I ain't done nobody else's, just so you know...

I'm going to describe myself in 6 words. Please respond to this message with your own 6 word description of me. Then post this in your own LJ and see if people can describe you in ONLY 6 words.

"I rot at six word stories."

Srsly, I ain't posted in that comm fo', like weeks.

You ever seen Jurassic Park? The first one, not...howev other many they made. Five, right? I liked the lil' umbrella neck spit-y things.

Anyway.

So in case you live under some rock or somethin' (which I ain't knockin'): the thing's about dinosaurs that some dumb scientists ('cuz it's usually they fault, ain't it?) brought back to life from mosquito popsicles. Or somethin'. An' also it was a book, but no one cares. The dumb scientists put the dinosaurs in dino Disneyland, so a course they get loose an' go on a killin' spree. Can you blame 'em? They 'specially like chompin' lawyers an' Jeff Goldblums.

Still anyway, the important thing I'm gettin' to, is how the dinos got loose is by reproducin' (an' some screw up by that guy that was that guy on Seinfeld). They wasn't supposed to be able to reproduce 'cuz they made 'em all chicks, but, along with the mosquito popsicles, they also made the dinos outta frog DNA, an' apparently it's a thing sometimes where frogs can change they gender.

Here's the thing:

I CANNOT, NOR WILL I WILL NOT, NEVER BE DOIN' THAT. 'AIGHT?

But I did get like four inches taller, so that's cool.