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quiet dark headed boy

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Doodily Doo. [Jun. 14th, 2016|04:21 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |amusedamused]

I'm so weird, and my tastes can sometimes be so strange, people often don't realize when I'm being sarcastic.
(Which is one of my favourite things to be.)

Really, it happens a lot.
(Not as much as people informing me of how unreasonably quiet I am.)
((Yeah. I get it. How about you be more aware of your surroundings.))

No, I don't actually want to go see the San Francisco Mime Troupe.

But thank you for calling to double check with me, just to be sure.
(I love you, and this cracks me up.)

"I honestly didn't know if you were serious or not."

No. No, I'm good.

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This is Lucille, and she is awesome. (Please don't be Eugene.) [May. 25th, 2016|11:40 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |worriedworried]

Please don't be Eugene. Please don't be Eugene. Please don't be Eugene.
Or Daryl. Or Glenn. Or Abraham. But please, please don't be Eugene.

Eugene is my very favourite. (....and Daryl and Corl.)
And Negan is my very favourite. (....and The Governor.)
What the fuck am I going to do if my favourite kills my favourite???

I don't know how many times I've watched this damn episode. Makes me nervous as fuck every time. As if I didn't love comic Negan enough. Fucking Negan went from scary to fucking terrifying. They had to go and cast The damn Comedian.
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Insert title. [May. 20th, 2016|11:18 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |bitchybitchy]

Hey. NBC: Thanks for canceling the one thing my teacher and I finally found to bond over. Stop canceling the very few shows you don't consider to be "good enough." Game of Silence is fucking awesome. So fuck you. (And Revolution was so goddamn fucking amazing. Fuck you.) Fuck you again. This goes for every network and every canceled show I've ever loved. Every fucking show I love gets canceled. I could list those for fucking days. Fuck.

Hey. Everybody I keep emailing: Stop telling me you “don’t allow paranormal investigations.” I know for a fact that every single one of you have certainly allowed them in the past (some of you even do them every year in October ((Btw, there is no "haunted season." They're either fucking in your building, or they aren't. They don't give a fuck what holiday it is.)), which is the reason I’m getting ahold of you in the first place. So don’t lie to me and tell me, “No thanks” when I ask, “Is there a possibility of scheduling something?” “No thanks,” isn’t even a legitimate answer to my question. Can I come visit your business? I really enjoyed it last time I was there for other reasons. “No thanks.” Good. I hope you’re haunted forever.

Hey. BJ: I've been trying to get you for two fucken weeks. Hook me up, man. I am neurotic and awake and my fingernails can't take anymore chewing. Do you want your cash? Cos I sure do want your drugs. I really, really want them. ....Please? I will drive over to anywhere in Kansas to get them.

Hey, Gma, I love you, but please stop saying everything is porn. Just because it wouldn't have been allowed on tv back in your day, doesn't mean it's porn. A Kardashian's ass (excuse me, I have to vomit from typing those words) or tame love scenes on network television aren't porns. King of the Hill and Breaking Bad don't have porn in them. We need to work on expanding your new-age vocabulary. Thank you for the strawberry shortcake, I love you <3.

Hey. Teacher lady: I will turn in my tests when I'm good and ready. And I don't want to install Windows on my fucking Mac to run your damn course software. FTFY. Fuck That & Fuck You. (Well, not you, really, just school in general and your questionable teaching abilities.)

There’s not even a point to this. I’m just fucken annoyed and I can't sleep and not even that cat is awake to kvetch to.
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My house is haunted. [May. 13th, 2016|04:21 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |mellowmellow]

It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Nobody believes me.

We have our own place now, Charles and Faraday and I. An actual house. Like a real family. I have free reign to put my posters and action figures anywhere. I’m allowed to draw on (some of) the walls. I have at least one someone to talk at when I’m all alone. Sometimes, if I lay out sweets, it even hugs me. (I think.) ((I, uh…. I sure hope that’s what it’s doing.))

It’s been raining so much this week. It’s going to be storming again any minute now. I'd go out and lay in it, if I didn't worry about the lightning.
Colbert’s on five nights a week. They finally put Negan in TWD, and he’s perfectly, perfectly cast.
Pickles has an awesome little girlfriend, and I’m so happy for him.
There are a whole bunch of baby bunnies in the backyard. One's right outside the window, nibblin' away at the grass. It's so fucking cute, I just want to shake its little face.
There's a brand new bag of chips in front of me.
I earn all the weed I could ever want, each full week I’m a good boy and go to class every day.
I think my teachers and classmates like me. I really hope so. I’m slow, but doing somewhat decently in school.

In a year or two, I’ll be able to afford my own drugs. Buy my own tattoos for my birthdays. Fill up my damn car all the way each time without feeling guilty as fuck about using other people’s money for everything. Put my own cash in my bank account. Take my boyfriend out for expensive dinners every weekend. Get a dog. Get a goddamn little puppy. A fuzzy little fucker named Zombie. He’ll grow into a small-horse-sized abomination. That mutt is also all I’ve ever wanted. He’s all we need to complete our little family.

Bowie’s gone, and my heart still aches. It will for forever.

That’s pretty much the only bad thing, really.
Hearing horrific, soul-murdering grammar every day.
No puppies.
Arby’s commercials.
A fucked up hip from imitating Dance Moms.
Who got killed on the last Walking Dead, and having to wait till October to hear the devastating news.
OCD. ADD. A lifetime of insomnia. Unprovoked mood swings.
A sometimes-crippling fear of social interaction.
Anxiety like a neurotic old Jewish woman.

Other than, there’s so much for me to be happy about. I do know that. I just wish my brain would get it; let me just be happy for good. It should be manageable. How do adults do this shit? How do normal people manage to function right? I’ve never understood. It’s warm and comfortable outside. Tumultuous and ravaged inside. Don’t know how to fix it. I try not to be negative, but sometimes it slips out on accident before I even realize what I've said. Don’t get me wrong. I’m very grateful for the love and stability I have, and I hope with all my heart that it lasts forever. I’ll do just about anything to keep it that way.
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Weekend Update with Seth Meyers & Amy Poehler! [Dec. 11th, 2014|04:56 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |nostalgicnostalgic]
[Aural Pleasure |Smashing Pumpkins - Cherub Rock.]

So. Anybody still around here? It’s been a while.

Just been making coffees, baking cookies. (Fuck your pumpkin spice. It’s disgusting. It’s not even worth getting paid for.) Charlie’s taking me and Maggie to see Saves the Day tonight. (I have a new Charlie in my life, who is infinitely better than the old Chuck.) I'm not really in the mood, but Maggie's excited, so that's important. I'd rather stay at home and fuck around. But at least I can drink legally now. I’m about to kill a bitch over AT&T Uverse, so if you see my face on the news, that’s why. Had a cough for about two months now. Customers love that shit. Been banned from smoking till it clears up. It’s all miserable. But things are pretty okay otherwise.

Anyway, I really wanted to post in case maybe Scott comes back around and sees this. I miss you, pal. My email is brokenmachine815@gmail.com. I hope we find a way to talk again.
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Dear bums.... [Jun. 16th, 2010|03:55 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |aggravatedaggravated]

Dear San Francisco bums,

Please stop yelling at me.

I know full well that I am not Flash Gordon; I am only some kid in a Flash Gordon t-shirt.

Please, lay off.

There were three of you yelling at me today.


Please don't be angry with me for wearing clothes.

Thanks so much,
Vincent James Stoller.
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Remember me? I'm the one from the registry office. [May. 1st, 2010|12:08 am]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |hungryhungry]

Wish I knew where my scanner & plug were, else this wouldn't be so shitty. Got a good grade on it.... Guess I can be a little bit proud....

I'm so fucking hungry and too drunk to drive anywhere. Wish my daddy would get more food in the house 'fore he leaves town.... Wish he'd spend more time with me too.... Maybe I'll fall asleep before my stomach starts aching too, too badly.

Wait it out. Just watch this. Make me happy. It's one of my three favourite scenes.

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(no subject) [Mar. 23rd, 2010|11:22 pm]
quiet dark headed boy
I'm writing stupid shit for class, but I almost like this part.

Spoiler-ish for an event in Lost Season 3 finale Through The Looking Glass.
Original Character made for writing class (plus my own shameful enjoyment), and drawn for corresponding art class.

(btw, no spoilers, but Ab Aeterno was so great tonight. Very different, and awesome-character-centric.)

Protector of the Small.Collapse )
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(no subject) [Mar. 18th, 2010|04:32 am]
quiet dark headed boy
I feel like I'm in such a bad way right now.
I'm fucking always in a bad way, but, shit.
I hope I wake up early enough tomorrow.

I need some fucking stability, some fucking normalcy, in my life.
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These equations in my book don't account for Karma, but somehow I ended up working for Dharma.... [Mar. 11th, 2010|06:05 am]
quiet dark headed boy
[Current Mood |melancholymelancholy]

(In which I realize, fuck, it's six a.m.)

I HATE how much this show means to me, and how real it's gotten for me.
Eight. Just eight.
(4 8 15 16 23 42)
Eight more episodes and it's over. Over. Forever.
And I honest-to-god don't know what I'm going to do.
(Jacob loves me, and Jacob loves you.)
I'm really glad Charlie doesn't sleep, like I don't sleep.
And I'm really glad he doesn't care that I call him when I can't sleep because I'm too stressed out over Lost.
It helps to have somebody really understand, no matter how fucking stupid we are for it, and how fucking stupid it feels.
We live for Tuesdays, and we survive on repeats in the interim.
I feel bad that I wouldn't choose him for my Constant, but in truth, he's second.

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