Thursday, August 18, 2011


"Felt the need to get out of town for the day, so I'll try to get a blog post up tonight or tomorrow. Theurgic bombs rule, by the way."

I posted that on my Twitter on Monday.  It is now Thursday.   Sorry about that, I was procrastinating.  I do that, in case you hadn't noticed.

So anyway.  First, I shall post a song that has lyrics that are relevant to my current situation because Nein seems to do it all the time.

Actually, this song fits for pretty much every situation (I made a case for To Kill a Mockingbird for a school project with it once), but it's a little more accurate here, I think.  Moving on.

So.  I decided that I didn't particularly want my Soul owned by anyone, let alone the being formerly known by Nein and I as Skinnybitch (though I use other names if I refer to him by a name at all anymore and she's probably calling him the Master by now...).  This created a problem, as said Lovecraftian beastie did, in fact, own my Soul.  Clearly there was only one way to fix this: by blowing things up.

Okay, not in the V for Vendetta sense.  But they're still called bombs, so I stand by my usage of words.

Anyway, Vadiir that guy that keeps changing his name SELLOUT MT gave me a bit of advice.  I'm not entirely sure how he worded it, but here's what I wrote down:

"1. Light bomb
2. Put on mask
4. ????

...yeah, he didn't word it like that.  But you get the idea.

I was gonna do it on Saturday, but we had to go up to Mankato, MN for school shopping and we didn't get back until about 9 PM.  (I got a beautifully hideous suit vest while I was there.  AND BRUCE CAMPBELL'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY~!!! <3)  So Gramps and I decided to put it off until Sunday.

So I sat around being antsy, unable to focus for long on much of anything (INCLUDING BRUCE'S BOOK!!!) and I couldn't sleep worth a damn (but that's nothing I'm unused to).  I got a phone call around 2:30 AM.  It was my Grandpa.  The following conversation ensued:

Me: *upon answering the phone* Yeah?

Him: You awake?

Me: No, I'm talking in my sleep.

Him: Watch your lip.

Me: You ask dumb questions, I give snarky answers.  I thought we'd covered this.

Him: And you wonder why you got Chosen.

Me: I think I've got it pretty much figured out.

Him: ANYWAY.  Since you're most definitely awake at this ungodly hour...

Me: I'M ALWAYS AWAKE AT THIS UNGODLY HOUR.  I go to sleep at like 3:30, man!

Him: And this is why I will call you every day at 5 AM until you're back to your school sleep schedule!  Now, may I get to the reason I called or not?

Me: Fine.  Shoot.

Him: I had a small realization a few minutes ago.

Me: Oh?

Him: It's technically Sunday.

Me: magnificent bastard.

Him: Shall I be there with a Theurgic bomb in twenty minutes?

Me: See ya then.  Allons-y!

Him: Alright.  And stop quoting things so damned much. *hangs up*

About twenty minutes later, he showed up with a bomb and I met him, mask in hand.  I lit the bomb, said "Viva la Revolution, bitch" in what I hoped was a badass manner and then put my mask on as fast as possible and holy shit.

That's the best way I can describe it.  Holy shit.

I had to sit on the ground until everything would stop spinning.  For a while after it I felt pretty sick, but I was warned about that.  When I finally started to get a grip, I burst out laughing.  And then I couldn't stop for a really, really long time.  And every time I thought I was close to regaining my composure, another stronger burst would come through and I'd be gone again.  When I finally managed to stop, my grandpa shook his head and said, "You really have to stop rolling doobies."  And then I was gone again.

I haven't laughed that much in a looooooong time.

(Also, I don't smoke pot, nor have I ever.  Just clearing that up.  It was a joke.)

After he left I decided to just pull an all nighter because, hell, it was already getting to be morning.  Most of it was spent figuring out exactly how badass the mask makes me.  Yeah, it's true, stronger and faster and all that.  I soon had the idea that I could probably run up the side of a building and backflip off of it.

As it turns out, I was wrong.

After my vision stop blurring and I was able to breathe properly again, I figured I should probably call it a day--er, night.  And with a final glance at the rising sun, I headed back up the stairs and went to bed.

And right as I was nearly asleep, I got a call on my cell phone.  At precisely 5 AM.  Guess who from.

I sent it directly to voicemail, shut my phone off and went back to trying to sleep.

All in all, not a bad day.

On Monday (the day Nein and The Artist Formerly Known as The Artist Formerly Known as MT were supposed to have a Session), I went with my mum and sister to visit family in a little town about ten miles away and we stayed there for most of the day.  I spent the entire day in fidgety worry.  And I haven't heard from either of them since that last chat session on Friday.  Well, technically Saturday.  Of course, I haven't tried to initiate contact with either of them either, heh.  I wonder if/how they've changed...

Anywho, I think I've probably rambled enough.  Talk to you all later.  Hopefully.  This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off. *Star Spangled Banner plays*

1 comment:

  1. The next time you blow shit up, take a video or picture or three. I'd love to see that.