username: grahamd22
password: as1cap

username: billg01
password: humble

username: k3vnn1
password: 52sheep

TeflonParakeet:Someone needs to update.
psykotik2k:i was just about to say the same thing to you
psykotik2k:haha
TeflonParakeet:I’ll make you a deal.
Teflon Parakeet:Since you haven’t REALLY updated in awhile…
Teflon Parakeet:I’ll just go ahead and let you do that before I even think about updating.
psykotik2k:d’oh
psykotik2k:i got an idea!
psykotik2k:why dont you update my site for me! =D
Teflon Parakeet:Because I’m not a cutesy 15 year old with big tits who loves herself more than even her own mother does.

The first thing to do when updating someone else’s site is insult a reader favorite from that site. (Naturally.)

The second thing to do is to contemplate insulting the readers themselves, but decide not to, since although it COULD inspire interesting responses…the disappointment if it didn’t would be so sad.

At which point you stare blankly at Greymatter’s purple background, and realize suddenly why Justin doesn’t update much.

The only things I can think of to type in here involve pictures, boobs, pictures of boobs, talking about pictures of boobs, complaining about the opposite sex, ascii porn of all shapes and sizes…in general, not what you feel like is actually worth talking about (and not that I can think of anything right now, anyhow), but what it seems like people who read FUBAR have gotten used to, and for the most part, expect. Kinda boring, unless you’re in the mood for it.

(Boobs.)

Quick note, not to detract from Cleo (who’s actually a cool chick, from what I’ve read,) but to clarify something right quick.

“Sorry, one other thing, I just mentioned that justins bitches were posting around that time. They are pretty much one and the same to me, random punters that don’t have a decent site of their own and are willing to suck cock for the “privilege” of posting on his. So sorry if I got you confused wione of the other bitches, you’re all about as bland as each other.”

That wasn’t Cleo, as she already told you, fil. That was Zil and me. And actually, we didn’t have to suck any cock for the “privilege” of posting on FUBAR. I mean, I had to do some pretty raunchy things to her with a jade statuette of a polar bear for Justin’s viewing pleasure, but there were no cocks, nor sucking, involved.

I will now scurry back to my own site (which really isn’t decent, but it’s all I have, since Cleo’s here to take up Justin’s slack HELLO JUSTIN POST MORE PLZ THX.) Thanks.

You’re all a bunch of silly, stupid sods.

“WHERE’S JUSTIN WE DONT WANT TO READ ABOUT SOME GIRL’S DREAMS WAH EEEENNNH BOOHOO JUSTIN COME BACK.”

Justin’s gone, busy living a life that doesn’t involve entertaining whiny net bastards.

As for the Goodinabadway guy…you’re the worst of them. Fah.

In a sizeable departure from last New Year’s, it seems like I’ve been summarily named the designated driver tonight. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but uh…I don’t exactly see that working.

Hello to Jaz, whoever he/she is, and no worries about the sick thing–it gets better after the first week or so…ends up just being a racking cough. Much better than the runny nose, fever, dizziness, and sore throat, eh?

Or maybe the racking cough is from smoking…which leads me to my New Year’s resolution:

Anyways.

I figured you lot were missing Justin-style updates…but I’m not into DVD’s or naked pictures of women (besides Shannon Elizabeth, but that goes without saying) or plugging my legion of underage camgirl fans; not that I have any, but supposing I DID… So I’ll just post an email, and pretend it’s actual post content. That seems to work prety well. (Justin, you know I <3 you, it's all in fun.)

—–Original Message—–
From: Philip Ledgerwood [mailto:pledgerwood@apexwebmarketing.com]
Sent: Monday, December 31, 2001 12:17 PM
To: thess@theheretic.net
Subject: Gateways to the Soul

Hi,

I saw something you wrote on Justin’s site and hopped over to yours. I wanted you to know that you have very existentialist eyes. I’d recognize them, anywhere.

Happy New Year.

—
Philip L. Ledgerwood, CTT CIW Professional
Owner and CEO
Apex Web Marketing
http://www.apexwebmarketing.com

Unupdated? Justin gave a legion of camgirls, two dudes, and me logins to post here long before he left–his page won’t go unupdated.

Okay.

Christmas sucked; hardcore style. I think this is the first year I actually sat down and realized, “Hey. I’m not a kid any more. My presents suck.” And it’s true, y’all, it’s true. Once you turn 18, gifts from the family dry up. It goes from getting board games, video games, game consoles, movies, clothes, candy, etc…into every aunt, uncle, and cousin you have (and my family is NOT that big) saying, “Here, Merry Christmas.” …And handing you $20.00–now that, my friends, is a boatload of suck.

And y’know, it’s not that I demand big presents; quite the opposite. I’d just like some measure of thought put into something my FAMILY, who has known me my entire LIFE would get me. A pair of socks with my favorite Powerpuff Girl on them. (Bubbles, btw.) A pair of tickets to a monster truck rally. A Depeche Mode CD…all things that would cost less than 20 dollars, but all things that they would know I liked.

I dunno.

I feel really selfish, thinking things like that; who am I to declare what kind of Christmas I want and “should” have when there’s children out there who have strangers buying presents for them, and dropping them off in boxes at the bank. People who couldn’t afford a tree, lights, or the whole Christmas doodah whatever…

And Shawn got me a badass little sprint PCS TP5200 phone…

Christmas is over, though, and no one will think about it again until next Thanksgiving (and every single goddamn day after that.)

“So. What’re we doing for New Year’s?”

So I’m 19, now. Feels exactly the same as 18, to be honest. My birthday was good, though…spent with some friends and the boyfriend in Orlando; Islands of Adventure rocks the disquotheque like you don’t even know. Unless you’ve been there, and then you know. Maybe. If my computer wasn’t busted, I’d scan in some pictures I took over the weekend.

I noticed something about these pictures after I got the film developed. While going through them, it sounds like this:

“Um, this is Peter and Sabrina…here’s Shawn…Shawn…Shawn…all of us in front of Duelling Dragons…Shawn, The Hobgoblin…Shawn, Shawn, Shawn…Kittie, Shawn…um…Shawn…”

So all in all, a bombass weekend. Even if I did lose $5 in a bet with Peter.

Unfortunately, I forgot that God has, in her wisdom, decreed it that I can’t be too happy for too long. So she decided that the branch office of the company the boyfriend works at is going to be shut down, and all of the people working there given the option of returning to the office that they originally came from. In Shawn’s case, Orlando. Two hours away…what a pain in the ass. :\

I know that it’s nothing, in the terms of “long distance relationship-ness”, but I’m used to having him three minutes away; two streets over, three streets up from where I live. Not a long-ass trek up I-95, the most boring and ugly Interstate in the United States.

To top it all off, God broke my computer. Yup. She did. That bitch. She did something so that neither the keyboard or mouse work, and formatting, replacing the motherboard, and reinstalling Windows didn’t fix it. She better send me a new keyboard and mouse, courtesy of Dell computers, reeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllll quick, or I’ll whine and complain. See if I don’t.

You may all raise one hand (no, Suzi, not one finger) in greeting to the newly-unemployed Thess. (Hi, I’m Thess.) Yup. I walked out of another job today. It just seemed the thing to do at the time, and far be it from me to deny God’s will.

Actually, they were all horrid, horrid bastards. Something about being talked about as if I’m not there (very derogatively) RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME rubs me the wrong way. As does being cursed out by the owner’s son when HE fucks up (I can understand if it was my fault.) Oh, and the overweight, pill-popping alcoholic bitches of waitresses, all of whom had superiority complexes…I could care less if they all went and fucked themselves, too. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they’ll all die of some horrible side affects from combining meds. One can only hope.

That NIMDA virus hit the servers where my boy works, meaning he’s going to be working late every night this week, and will have to go take care of the Miami and West Palm branches of the company to clean THEM out; since he’s the only field engineer on freakin’ call, this means he’ll miss my birthday. Which is Friday.

I am inconsolable.

Actually, no. There is ONE thing that would make me feel better. What say someone make me a new layout for my birthday, hmmm? 😀

As for Justin’s post below…oh, lord. :\ Wish there was something one could say to someone else on the net about things like that (about anything that matters) that actually meant anything real or helpful. It’s just not in a text-based world to have that ability, though, so all I can do is wish him over his unhappiness, and tell him that if it’ll make him feel better, I’ll go on a porn hunt for him. Any celebrity he wants. Maybe even two.

I’m about to be a girl. I’d like to apologize in advance. I’d also like to preface what you’re about to read/not read with the statement that I’m very, very happy with my somewhat midget-ish boyfriend (told you I’d babble about him a lot.)

There’s a restaurant in town called Zapata’s. Awesome Mexican cafÈ, my family and I go there a lot, and I’ve brought friends in several times. The same waiter usually waits on all of us, by whatever chance. Yesterday, I went in with my parents and aunt, got there early, and talked with the waiter guy for awhile. Today, he showed up at Gately’s Grille, the restaurant I work at. We talked a bit, and before he left, he gave me his number, told me to call him so we could hang out.

NOW. That is the first number I’ve gotten in 6 months; the length of time I’ve been seeing my boyfriend. And this guy from the other restaurant was more aesthetically attractive than Shawn. But I was happy to realize that although I was happy to know that I can still actually GET someone’s number, that I don’t have some tattoo on my forehead warding off males…that I didn’t really have any desire to call him, other than a realization that I could introduce him to a friend of mine. Which…was cool.

Hrm. 4:30 PM EST, with a ten minute speech due for my Interpersonal Communications class at 5:30. Perhaps I should go attempt to actually do it.

I had this big ‘ol long blog about rednecking it with my boyfriend and his family this past weekend at the shooting range and surf fishing, but deleted it after previewing. That’s something that would be better suited to my site than this one. Y’all are used to pr0n and 14-year-old girls, and DVDs/movies. Not necessarily in combination, or in that order, but the idea is there. So now I’m here, idly reading my younger sister’s webpage, cringing at her spelling mistakes, wondering where she found my zip disk to take some of the images she’s using from, and telling myself that just because she’s on Geocities is no reason to disown her. We all started somewhere.

It was a shockish sort of thing to find Justin’s email, complete with a personalized login and password for me (me, of all people), this morning. I remember when he declared (it was awhile back) that any female posting on this site would have breasts the size of Australia. I think it was Australia, anyhow. Boy, did HIS standards come down, hmmm? Not only does he have at least one female with breasts FAR sub-Australian size posting, but he also has males.

Oh, how the tit-obsessed have fallen.

<3 Justin. :) Shawn (the boyfriend, I’ll tend to babble about him like a damn idiot on a regular basis…just a warning to those of you who don’t know me) made me watch Highlander last night. He informed me that I WOULD like it, as it is a CLASSIC. A 17-year-old classic movie, with good effects for its time, and yadda yadda yadda. I say yadda yadda yadda primarily because I hated every moment of what I allowed him to make me watch. The bad guy was laughable, they KILLED SEAN CONNERY (capital offense), the lead guy was creepy, ugly, and had a horrible accent…the effects were cheesy and laughable, and I just flat-out was not impressed. I told him I thought it was very interesting. Got to let him keep some illusions. Illusions like his belief that he has good taste in movies.