Doctor? DOCTOR?
Is he going to make it? Is he!?

I need a defib, stat! He's going critical, we're going to need to give him every chance he has at surviving.

Its no use, to the OT!

Nurse, gauze.
More gauze.
Bandages.
Hacksaw.
Hand axe.
Butter knife.
Stapler.
Rag.
Ice-cream cone.
Oh fuck, he's lost too much blood, sponge.
Another sponge.
Three more sponges.
Oh fuck! His heart stopped!
Nurse! Aquarium pump, stat!
Holy shit, the initial incision is too large, his organs are spilling out.
Quick! Bring me a sewing kit!
OH FUCK! He's DEAD!

...

Someone tell the father.


"...I'm sorry, Sci. He's not going to make it."






:: 9:48 PM









In recent days I have discovered this need for a greater aural capacity.

My blog cannot deliver this sort of schmexiness in chimnology, therefore, I need to reupload my music and create a new player. Guess what? HOLY SHIT! I DID!

I have a full playlist here (courtesy of a certain cough site full of nice cough people who cough host cough stuff cough for me) So anyway, This playlist includes J-Pop, SynthPop, Metal, Rock, Alternative, Techno and plain old Pop.

You'll hear these songs at random~ F5, F5, F5!!!

So anyway, in other news: I'm still not dead yet.
I'm not intending to die anytime soon
-and-
You're going to have to live with it.


I'm in the midst of reskinning my blog (I recently received a lovely registered copy of Adobe Photoshop CS3 from a.. uh.. benefactor (not pirated I swears)) so look out for a CUSTOM-MADE SCIBLOG (Yes, your pants are moistening in agonizing suspense).

Have a nice day.



:: 10:21 PM









Does anyone hear cricket sounds? Anyone?

Where?
This may come as a shocking surprise to all of you, but, I'm not fucking dead yet! Yes! I'm still alive and kicking. I've decided to start posting in my blog again.
"but gasp scienyde u deidnt post 4 aegss LOLLLLZZZ"

Well, I'm still going to start posting again. Stay tuned for random humour, slapdash comments and wonderous flames.





:: 10:58 PM

















:: 11:36 PM









Feedback Loop of my life.

My thoughts based on a structure of escalation. What I think about is based off what I was thinking about earlier. It extends to something I wasn't thinking of previously. What I thought I was thinking isn't really what I'm thinking anymore because I am thinking about how I was thinking what I thought I wasn't thinking about earlier. When I think about it, it hurts.

Amateur poetry time!
As I gazed upon my watch,
I realized it was late,
I something something awtch.
Something something ate.


P.S. This post sucks because I was fixing up my site: http://rzbclan.net
You still can't really see the site though, I'm working it off-net before I upload it. Have fun with the placeholder page.



:: 10:53 PM









Dream
I once saw something in a dream of mine,
Long lost from memory the next day.
Was I searching for peace of mind...
Or was the dream simply, shunned away?





:: 11:51 PM









I had originally planned a giant rant for today. It was very, very racist.
As such, I'll replace it with random thoughts.

Randomity to me, is something like saying something completely off point, elaborating on it in a manner that makes no sense, going further and further away from the point and then somehow linking it up with the current topic. Which makes no sense.

My previous favourite random word was, 'Potato', it sort of flew into underground roots, tubers and legumes, more things about how potatoes are nutritious and a source of electricity and water. How they can feed an ant for its entire lifetime.

Then since potatoes were far too expected for me to say than random, it had to be changed to the next random thing that entered my mind which just happened to be washing machines. Most of the ones today operate on fuzzy logic. Automated washing machines that know whats happening and when its happening and when its not going to happen. Like that tomahawk missile.

It knows where it is at all times, this is because it knows where it isn't. When it subtracts where it is from where it isn't, or where it isn't from where it is, it obtains a deviation. Using this deviation, it can pinpoint where it is from where its not, or where its not from where it is, thus leading to where it is. The accuracy of the tomahawk missile is not to be laughed at. It can slam into a target within 5 centimeters at a range of 1 meter.

Vernier calipers make no sense either. They have a weird tail thing, two weird clamp things, and they smell funny. I once used a pair of vernier calipers, it was made of metal, it was small and it smelt like old things. The smell followed me around the entire day until I took a shower. The smell now lingers in my drainage pipes.



:: 10:36 PM