Found this today and I just had to share!
John Green’s Senior Prank
So, I had been supposed to be writing for the past two weeks but my writing chair was really, really wobbly and I just couldn’t concentrate. So, I got a new writing chair :D its kinda cool, but I think I’m going to try to find a new one, because this one is too fancy. My old chair was made out of wood, it was like a 1960s office desk woodchair. This one is fancy with wheels and it spins, and it has cushion… just too fancy, but I like it.
Also, I got a dictaphone, so I’m pretty stoked about that.
Ever since she left I tire myself to sleep, I wait until complete exhaustion to find that deep sleep. That sleep in which there are no dreams. I am afraid that if I dream, I won’t ever want to wake up again.
It wasn’t Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who ended segregation in America, sure he took the fight to the media, but it wasn’t that what won the fight. No, it was the undeniable fact that America was black. That Elvis was a nobody who stole black folks’ songs. It was people getting tired of not being able to enjoy and dance to performers like Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. It was the birth of Rock n Roll, Chuck Berry shredding on his guitar and blowing folks minds away.
How can you deny yourself, that your true identity is that which you refuse to accept? That is truly how segregation ended in America. Although we still have a long way to end racism, sexism and discrimination altogether, we should learn from the past. We won’t end it with protests and marches and screaming and yelling. No, we’ll end it with music, with Morgan Freeman ending segregated Proms and being one of the most beloved voices in the English speaking world. We’ll end it with Samuel L. Jackson daring you to “Say what one more goddamn time”. Discrimination will end by Petty Officer 2nd Class Marissa Gaeta and Petty Officer 3rd Class Citlalic Snell sharing their love throughout the world.
Marches and protest are what people see of the fight against discrimination, but first, we must win their hearts.
Prostitution is said to be the oldest profession in the world. To provide the greatest of pleasures to men for the exchange of worldly existence. Some of them are become teachers of young men in the art of making love, some become the last pleasures of old men at the end of their days. Often they are treated as commodities and nothing more, but almost never do their lovers stop to ask “Who is this creature of passion that fills my most basic instincts?”
Every now and then I think about my Esmeralda,a sad doll of bronze body and perky tits, but even more often I think about our late night conversations, after climbing down from climax embraced in each others arms pretending that we were more than an exchange of money for sex. Friends, companions in solitude we hid within each other’s arms in a lonely embrace.
A couple of weeks ago, while craving for Grilled Cheese I stumbled upon a food blog that was, without any exaggeration, perfect. This blog has it all, from the basic “food blog” pictures of delicious food, to the more “I’m legit, bitch” food recipes.
However, that is not what makes it great, this blog exempts from the rest of them for the way it is written, each recipe that I read was like reading a story, that as it unfolded it made something delicious that I could actually taste. Best of it all was that it read as something I would say, I mean there was a “fuck” every two sentences, if you can manage to create a food/recipe blog and say fuck every two sentences you are pretty badass in my book. That’s not all, though! I have saved the best of this blog for last. Food is good, pictures of food are better, and recipes even a little bit more, but you know what is greater than food? BOOZE. That’s right, this blog has recipes of how to make booze (which is already delicious) even better. And finally, the thing I love the most, not so much about the blog but the people that are behind it, is that “[They] love food enough not to take it too seriously”. Inviting their readers to experiment with the recipes and make their own version of them. Anyway, go ahead and give them a follow and try out their recipes so that when you do, your friends will say “Dinner was Delicious”
backaway boy, and turn yourself around before you do something you’ll regret, now. Cause it ain’t the time and it ain’t the place for the things you lookin’ for. Be patient, be kind, cause if one day you get lost in her blue eyes, there ain’t no coming back.
Found this today and I just had to share!
John Green’s Senior Prank
It makes me dream, and when I dream I do it about horrible things, never anything nice. The last two nights have just been a snuff dream party, Tarantino style.
A couple of friends are walking through a city that we have just traveled to. They enter a S&M museum that is a tour only. Inside this museum there are varieties not just S&M but snuff art and other violent/sexual expos. I had stayed behind for unknown reasons, when I see two young men walk in after them, with evil grins on their faces. I see one pull out a hammer from his pants and walk into the museum alongside his partner. I speed up my gait to catch up with them. I follow them without being seen until we reach a point of the tour in which we are in a small hallway with two corners at each end where no one can see us.
I see one of the men look at his partner and grab the hammer, he turns forward toward where my group of friends are ready with the hammer in hand. I run towards the first men and smash his head against the wall, he falls down passed out immediately. I run behind the one with the hammer, put my hand above his shoulder and lock him to take off the hammer. I get a hold of the hammer while he swings at me, I swing at him with the hammer, it lands perfectly on his ear. He falls down to the side, my friends have just walked through the corner and now are out of sight.I turn around to the see the first man coming toward me, I raise the hammer and he stops and puts his hands in the air. I look to his partner, I can see his hear hanging off, and his skull smashed in from the hammer, but he is somehow conscious, “We need to get him to a hospital” I tell his partner, he nods and walks toward him. “No, you can’t” he spoke in a soft mellow voice, the voice of a boy who had just turned into a man. “If you take me to the hospital, they will take me to jail, I can’t go to jail”, he spoke between heavy breaths, I looked at him not believing my ears “If we don’t take you to the hospital you will die, not that you don’t deserve it” my heart had warmed to the idiot of a thief that laid before me. “I rather die, please, if you don’t mind, do it quick”, he looked at me with one eye covered in blood and one blue eye that told he sadness of his life. His partner had been squatted down next to him muted all this time and at that point he finally talked “I’ll do it” his voice trembling, I looked at him, dirty blonde curly hair, chubby cheeks with a skimpy body, the eyes of a boy who had never taken a life. His bleeding friend looked at me and nodded. I gave his friend the hammer and said “wait, let me make sure no one will hear us”. I walked towards were we had come from and looked at the corner, no one was there. I walked to the other side of the hall, were my friends had walked to, they were still there admiring dildos with spikes, holed gag balls, and full leather suits. I held my hand up to signal the two men to wait, while I watched out the two spoke softly, the blonde one had begun to cry. Finally, my friends moved on, I lowered my hand and he lowered the hammer, a choked screamed fell from his friend, and the hammer struck again, the sounds of the breaking bones muffled by the ripping flesh. Three, four, five more hammer strikes, until there laid just a disfigured face. I looked at his partner nodded and walked away.
We walked into the living room, Sarah’s mother laid there lifeless on the couch, a single shot to the head. I crouched, I didn’t know if there was anybody still in the house. I crawled to the body, to see if there were anything to tell me what had happened. As I sat next to it, I saw a leg behind the other couch a male work boot, “Nick…” I said to myself. I had know Nick since I began hanging out with Sarah, but Nick was no normal man, I had always know that Sarah was a “military brat” so I had assumed that her father was a ranking officer in the Navy since it was the only military branch in town. However, a year back it had become clear to me that Nick was not just a ranking officer, he was gone at odd times right when things would develop in the war front or diplomatic conflicts were contained. One time I asked Sarah what her father did, and she looked at me and said “honestly, I have no idea”. Seeing Nick’s dead body in the floor made me realize it had not been a simple break-in, whoever it was, had been there for him. I crawled to the small cabinet with books that was in the living room, a few months back I had accidentally discovered a compartment where Nick (I assume it was him) kept a Springfield XD .45. I took the gun and made sure it was loaded, I took a deep breath and stood up, I was going to find the motherfucker that did this. Only the light in the living room where Nick and Sarah’s mom laid dead was on. No lead as to where the shooter had gone through. So, I walked into the house. The living room lead to the kitchen, I checked the knife holder to see if I had knives to worry about, however all of them where in place. There had been no one in there, everything was neat and still.
From the kitchen, you could walk into a bedroom, a garage or into a hallway leading to the family rooms. I decided to check the garage to see if somebody had walked in through there. The door was closed and the garage was locked, I made my way around the old jaguar that sat in the garage to make sure no one was hiding. (Haven’t decided if I’ll finish this, so here for now)