Incessant Chatterings of Yours Truly

Diem: see, we went to the rich school, but we were po'.
Abel: not 'poor', but 'po''. You couldn't afford the 'R'.
Diem: No. We couldn't afford the 'OR' (ore). *points* think about it...


Abel: You're just being contradictory.
Diem: No I'm not.

Our most beloved Troll Under the Stairs, Sandnor, came up with this one evening when he came up for food. Rather dramatically.

"Faster than an old school main frame.
More powerful than a TI-35 calculator.
Able to jump conclusions with a single point of data.
It's a bird!
No...he's flipping us the bird.
It's a plane!
No...he's hijacking a plane.
It's Super Troll!"

Abel: ooh, I love this song. *sing* with a black-haired flamanco dancer...
Toccoto: *listens*hey, I like the flamenco dancer. Mr. Jones has good taste.
Abel: he does.
Tocoto: Mr Jones? Are we sure its not Dr. Jones? As in Indiana?
Abel: no, no, its Mr.
Toccoto: oh, okay, because Indiana got his Doctorate in archaeology.
Abel: he minored in kicking ass. Dr Indiana Jones, Doctor of kickassery.
Toccoto: either that or foiling nazi regimes.

Abel: I've been thinking of porn all day, trying to get and idea for that erotica I'm supposed to write.
Diem: oh yeah? How's that working for you?
Abel: meh.
Diem: really?
Abel: yeah. All the things that interest me in writing feel just like vague ideas but I can't quite pull them into description.
Diem: what?
Abel: its just like...I want to capture this vibe and feel to the story but I can't quite capture it.
Diem: oh. *long pause* just don't have the right pokeball.
Abel: *turns to stare* huh. Yeah, actually.

ABEL has encountered WILD PORN!
ABEL uses POKEBALL!
WILD PORN breaks free!

One of the many reasons I know that I have a terrible sense of humor and a somewhat warped view of death is because while I do mourn a couple people's passing, every once in a while when I see someone really /dragging/ out their mourning process on a public forum like Facebook, I start making jokes about it.

My favorites are when people talk to facebook like they're talking to the person who died. I have to restrain the urge to reply to their heartfelt and often excessively enigmatic comment 'to' the person and remind them:

"I don't think there's Facebook in Heaven."

Now, let's set aside the fact that I don't believe in Heaven and the dispute of faith, but /if/ Facebook is anywhere, it's Hell. Let's be honest for a moment. Facebook, Twitter, Myspace are all our own personal windows into Hell.

So. If that person were to suddenly pop up and answer that very personal message, it would mean they're reading it in Hell. Probably being /forced/ to read it and every other stupid, inane message written not only on your friends' walls, but everyone's walls. Every. One. In the world.


I also think about making that person a facebook (or hacking their existing one) and responding to the message, myself. Just to see what happens.

'I miss you, grandpa!'
'I miss you, too, sweetie. See you in 30 years. Bring toilet paper. There's a shortage down here.'


-Abel

Abel: yeah I have a hunsky burning a hole in my pocket.
Diem: cool.
Abel: yep. A c note. A benny franklin.
Diem: you know, washington should be on the hundred don't you think?
Abel: why? He's on the one. More people see the one. Its in circulation more.
Diem: yeah but everyones striving for the benny.
Abel: yes, but this way, if you think about it, he's honored more because people see him every day.
Diem: honored by giving him two pieces of tiny currency?
Abel: yeah, because he's around more.
Diem: still. He was the founder of our nation and therefor has more value! Pfft okay ben was a founding father but whatever. Electricity, whatever, stole that shit from Tesla anyway.
Abel: ...*turrrns head* ...*stares* ...that was Edison.
Diem: *laughs* same thing. He had an electric keychain or something.
Abel: key...chain. Okay stop. *laughs* you gotta stop.