(no subject)

I am 31% ADDICTED TO THE INTERNET.



I could go either way. Deep into the madness of nights filled with coding CGI-Scripts and online role playing games, or I could become a normal user. Good luck!


Take the INTERNET-ADDICT Test at Fuali.com!

My Theme Song

is "Birdhouse in Your Soul" as so many of you know already...
but according to Emode It's...

You're a hard-core guy who knows what he wants and intends to get it. That's why your theme song is "Back in Black." Whether you're pumping iron, shooting pick-up hoops, or rounding up the boys for a night of havoc, AC/DC's metal classic is the perfect tune to get you fired up and blow your speakers out in the process. Your friends might think you're a little reckless sometimes, but you know where the limit is. If you're the loudest one in the room, or spill someone's drink with a fearless air guitar, it's nothing to be ashamed of. What's fun without a little mayhem thrown into the mix? So grab something leather, play drums on your desk, and yell at the moon. You've got some hell to raise and head banging to do. Let "Back in Black" accompany you to the edge and back.

No One Knows My Plan

(my apologies (not) to They Might Be Giants )

To my secret self, I say these words
"I was careless, I can see that now."
I must be silent, must contain my evil smile.
I want to tell them, them, my mateys, the Chaotic Crowd

When I made a joke about stealing cookies
They all tried to hide them all from me.
But they're like the people on that other place.
Who live in a fantasy where the new place is so cool (like the wizzy)

No one understands.
No one knows my plan.
Why the singing, dancing.
Why the "I'm not cute"
The cookie thieving
Why the smell of burning pixie dust

(LITE gets onto a guitar and solos)

No one understands.
No one knows my plan.
Why the bouncing, pouting
Why the "You're so cute"
The sarcastic jokes
Why the smell of burning pixie dust

In my RL world I bide my time,
Always thinking.
Always busy working out the birdhouse
Working out the tiny details of the birdhouse.
Thinking out the burning pixie dust...

No one understands.
No one knows my plan.
I must be silent, must contain my evil smile.
I want to tell you.
You my Journal, you the readers too.
No one understands!
No one knows my plan!