Why is it that if a person has a freind that is a very attractive member of the opposite sex, people automatically assume that you like the person? And just because I make the statement "I really wouldn't mind having sex with her, in fact, I would love to", doesn't mean I like the person.

My philospohy on freindship (and sex)

1) Freinds should be having sex all the time.
2) Freinds should offer each other sex, even to members of the same sex if need be.
3) Sex improoves freindship and creates bonds between freinds that are harder to break.
4) Having sex with freinds is a form of helping each other.
5) In combat, if you are fighting beside a person who you have had sex with you'd know the person better, thus you'd be better able to predict his/her moves and thus become a better fighting unit.
6) Sex doesn't equal love.
7) People shouldn't get jealous over sex, after all, sex is just sex.

Disclaimer: This little piece of information is a parody of the philosophy of Clanners in the Battletech Universe. Clans people were hard people, they were warriors, they'd shag and fight all of the time. They were cool. So don't walk up to me and call me a horny bastard and no, I'd probably not want to do you, well just maybe. =D

I am going blind with all this computer using, I don't feel as energetic as before. My blog is turning into a bitch post, where I bitch and lonely male dogs come to shag.

There are 3 things in this world which matter to me right now and keep me going.

1) Matrix Revolutions
2) Waiting to get laid (soon I may just drop this stupid idea, I may just visit some hooker and get the job done)
3) Finding an nice way to die, so that my dead will cause chaos and destruction as well as huge amouts of emotional outburst by random people who may not even know me.

In the mean time. Ribena taste nice. Work is very boring and I am deleting this blog in 3 days from now, as the author of this blog really finds no point in blogging and it generates negative vibes as everytime http://www.blogger.com/blog.pyra?blogid=3807463 appears in the URL indicator and i begin blogging. Shit comes out. Not litereally, but figuratively as if it comes out literally, this place would be very messy.

I have a short story to tell.

"It was drizzling; winter has its way of rubbing it in that the weather still controls the lives of many people. The boy donned his jacket and walked out of the front door. Without saying a word, he slowly and silently closed the front door as he had done many a night before. Nobody took notice of him. As Usual. If one bothered to inspect this boy closely one would realise that he is older than his silhouette would have suggested, he is almost a man. His family never bothered to take note of his activities and almost always acknowledged his presence as that of a child's. As he walked across the gravel that was his uncompleted driveway, he contemplated again, what he had thought of so often, especially two nights ago.

Two nights ago, stood the same boy, or man. A bottle of a badly mixed concoction of spirits and soft drinks in one hand and the car keys of a friend the other. Anybody could tell that this person could not walk straight. He opened the door of the beaten up 1984 Toyota Corolla. In the passenger's seat beside him sat a person, who was just as un-sober as the young man with the bottle in hand. The car lurched forward and stalled the signature of a badly controlled clutch. With a few more tries, the car began to gather speed. Away they went. Turning corners at breakneck speed, the young men in the car felt a rush of adrenaline as this pooled in their blood mixing around with the alcohol that was already present. The young man controlling the wild animal that was the faded gold car could hardly control his hands much more a petrol powered beast. They turned a sharp corner. All went black. A foot slammed on the breaks, too hard. The car skids and the back hits a light post. Thankfully, the force is just enough to jolt the young man back into consciousness. And to dent the boot of the car. Out stagger the young man and his friend. The young man crying out, shouting unmentionable profanities that generate one main idea. "Why didn't I die? I want to die. Why can't I die."

Now the boy is at the bottom of his driveway, the rain continuously beats upon his face. The look on his face shows a mix of sadness and frustration. Many thoughts cloud his head. He turns left with the precision of a soldier; he stamps his foot as he completes the turn, almost instinctively. He smirks to himself. He still has it with him, those years of training in the Cadet Corp have not abandoned him yet. The boy walks forward. A wave of depression sets into him as he feels the loneliness of the setting around him. The mise-en-scene that composed his vision was a depressing sight. What could possibly drive someone to take a walk in the rain, at night, in the cold? Nobody knows. The boy walks, and utters softly under his breath, "I don't fucking care anymore, bloody hell why aren't I dead". "


This is a true story. It was what a prank was based on.