HOT LESBIAN ACTION!!!

Well, I don't have much to say right now, so I won't write much (we've heard that before, haven't we? Have we? Yes. We have.) Anyway, the Amadeus Conservatory and I put on our production of Carousel. It's a play. We've got another performance tomorrow and that's it. Whatever.

Anyway, yesterday at rehearsal, it really sucked. Apparently some kids couldn't get to sleep last night because they were so anxious. But today, miraculously, it didn't suck! It wasn't really "good", in the classical sense, but it wasn't terrible, and that's a good day for our cast.

I had this bitching costume, with a sweater-vest and a suit and a cane, and a top hat an' all. The rest of the cast was fine. I was quite good. I got nice applause from people when I bowed (there were few hotties, but if they had been there, they would be all over me.)

That's about it. I honestly didn't have much to say.

Wow.

With luck, I'll still have another post ready by Wednesday; just thought I'd drop that little nugget off with you all.

MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com. (0) comments

Well, I didn't really feel up to posting today, but because of that schedule thing, where I said I was going to post by Wednesday (today!), I'm doing it anyway. The reason I didn't post sooner is I've been going to rehearsals for this play, in Chappaqua every day. And that's far away. And I don't get home until 9:30 and then I have to do homework. So sorry. Punks.

Anyway, back to Mexico. I think this is my last installation. I've got probably enough for two, but I feel pretty bogged down this week. We'll see.


So, I woke up in Mexico after my first night there. Wandering around, I discovered the arcade. Wait, I discovered that the day before. Anyway, they have this game Pump it Up, which is a lot like Dance Dance Revolution, where arrows fly by the screen in time to music and you have to step on the corresponding arrow at the correct time. It was basically the same, but was subtly different in order to suck. That way they don't infringe on copyright law. Anyway, I quickly laid the smackdown upon that machine and attracted a crowd of hot girls. And when I say "hot girls", I mean no one! Crazy, eh? Speaking of honeys, there weren't any. Not a single honey. Hello? This is a pretty major school break? Where are the honeys?

So, over the course of the week, we went into town a few times, and I'll admit, it scared me just a little. There was this statue of some guy, and its head was covered with bird droppings; completely covered. And there was this one seagull that sat there ALL THE TIME. It was there on multiple days. I swear. There was also a big statue of a muscular man doing battle with a massive shrimp. Apparently the garbage from the resort has mutated the shrimp to epic proportions, forcing the people to engage in epic battles with them.
I'm really tired.

I saw some other frightening sites there. There was one restaurant; I don't remember what it was called, probably "Señor" something. That's how they attract tourists. When will they learn it means "mister" and not, "all your cash are belong to us"? Anyway, their mascot was a demented chili pepper with a cleaver. It scared the bejeesus out of me. I had nightmares. I swear.

There were a lot of black dogs in the town of Puerto Peñasco. They were just stray dogs that wandered about. I don't know how they got so many black ones though. I guess it was just a popular model that year.

Oh! More on the arcade: Because You Care! There was never anyone there, really. It could have been a very successful arcade, but instead it reeked of solitude which, now that I think about it is good for a guy who's pretending to dance when all along he knows he's incredibly white. Well, I'm half-Chinese. I guess that's where my mad 1337 skillz come from. See, the arcade could have been better with some better games. You know, fighting games, shooters, things that people LIKE. Instead they had two side-by-side 18-Wheeler games, in which you deliver... I don't know, wheels or something to people. They had two soccer games, which makes sense for the Mexicans who come here, and one nostalgia box, or whatever those things with Pac-man and Galaga and stuff on them are called. They had golf too, the type with the invisible golf club except you can hold the handle and pretend your playing a game that's not really a sport in the first place. A wise man said, "Golf is a good walk spoiled." I say, "Everyone rides around in those golf carts nowadays, and playing golf video games is a good golf cart ride spoiled." Feel free to quote me on that little gem. And the best game, they had a scooter game! I guess it came out when Razor Scooters were all cool, except the graphics seem about eight years old and the concept is boring and stupid. I used to want one of those things.

They also had plenty of nice games for the kiddies. They had a game called "Frantic Fred", in which you play a, supposedly retarded, bear, whose job it is to either run back and forth and catch apples in his mouth, or to avoid the apples. All I know is bears love apples. You control "Frantic Fred" with a steering wheel. God knows why.

They also had a game in which plastic ducks in a glass case go by on a conveyor built, and you have to press a button which shoots one of those extending boxing glove things at them. That's right: it's a video game in which you PUNCH DUCKS. In the face. It didn't even look hard. They had some other stuff, but it was all pretty lame, hilarious, or terrifying.

So back in town. Thought I'd mention that I DID see a cybercafé, something I had expressed doubt about in a previous post. It's called Internexos, in case anyone ever voyages to Puerto Peñasco. Thought I'd give you a little heads-up. They also have topless bars RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of the town. Just in case, you know, you wanted to avoid that part of town.

Oh, and before I said you could buy a dozen eggs in Mexico for 65 cents? Sorry. It's actually 30 cents.

I spent most of my mornings playing tennis. There were two courts. One was fine; the other had numerous holes and lumps on its surface. And it didn't have a net. People still played there anyway, because they were desperate and we had already gotten the good court. One old man insisted that the net was a disadvantage, and he was better off without it. Poor old man.

I also watched a lot of movies. They had a big-screen TV at the hotel and played a movie every night. One movie I saw was Tomb Raider 2. It oscillated between being completely incomprehensible and being reprehensible. It either didn't make sense, or it was boring, or it was absurd, or Lara Croft wore entirely too many clothes. I saw Spider-Man again. I decided the acting and script weren't very good, but the action sequences were beautifully and lovingly crafted. I also saw Pirates of the Caribbean again, which seems to have confused my mom. "How come they're skeletons, but they're also not skeletons?" she would ask. It was long, wasn't it? Yes, it was. It wasn't bad, but mainly Johnny Depp was cool, and performed my all-time favorite portrayal of a gay pirate. Seriously, have you seen the movie? What decision did he make before they started shooting? "I think I'll drink a bottle of scotch and do my Richard Simmons impersonation," he might have said. Really though, he's all RIGHT.

We went on a whale-watching tour too, in a little boat. I thought about bringing some gum, so I could chew it in case a whale came. That way I could realize it had lost its flavor and go for a new stick of gum, just as the whale jumps out of the water and everyone goes, "Incredible! That will NEVER happen AGAIN!" What, no one remembers that commercial? It was an ad for Extra? It was almost exactly like that, except the people weren't so mean to me in the commercial. Anyway, it was really great for a while. Then I wanted to die because I got really sick and it sucked. And we didn't see any whales.

In Mexico, their version of Wonderbread is something called "Bimbo". Their mascot is, quite fittingly, a friendly-looking teddy bear. Someone tell me what Bimbo means in Spanish. They have some so-called whole wheat-type bread. It said "Multigrano", but when I tasted it, I wondered how it good have any fewer grains and still be considered bread.

One last bit. My aunt Peggy, who was along with us, is from California, and she's a vegan. Now I respect that, and I think there are plenty of delicious things you can eat without meat products. . I myself don't eat pork or beef or lamb. The thing about Peggy is, she also won't eat many vegetables, or any spices. So eating with her is an EXPERIENCE. She really likes to keep the waiters on their toes, especially when they aren't so good at English. "I'll have this linguini pasta with marinara sauce. But don't give me any onions, or garlic, or peppers, and don't put in any spices. Don't give me any cheese. And could I have penne instead of linguini?" It's actually worse than that. I swear. It's worse. Honest to goodness.

Anyway, I really have to go now. And I hope you've enjoyed my little epic (oxymoron?) My next post, on whatever it may be, may not be until next Wednesday with all I've got going on. But with luck it will be earlier. See you all.

Nicky

AIM: Jake Aimer
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.

Posted by: Nicky / 9:22 PM

(0) comments

Most of you won't get that. A little bit of a reference to my younger days. Feel free to contact me and ask about it. Except for you, Ben, I've had just about enough of you.

So... Mexico? I just got back some hours ago. Let's say... 6:30 in the god damned freaking morning. See, usually, you want to arrive in your city of choice (or not choice, depending on your situation) at either an hour so ungodly that you can get home and sleep until 10:00 AM or whatever and be back on your system pretty much, or you want to get back you know, 1:00 PM, 2:00 PM, whatever, on SATURDAY, and sleep the rest of the day and take it easy. But no, I had to get back on Sunday having been up about 24 hours, and get home by the time I'm usually AT SCHOOL on weekdays.

Okay, fuck that. You guys want to know about my trip. Well, first, I'll remind you all that I went Puerto Peñasco, Mexico last Saturday, for a week. Weather indications said it would be cold. If I were to answer in the form of a question, I'd ask, "What the hell are you talking about?" I mean, Mexico, right?

So, let me detail my travel plan for all you geography buffs out there. Okay, for you one geography buff out there. I left JFK on an airplane to San Diego around 7:00 AM. After five hours (and a viewing of the probably much-edited Runaway Jury, which was so not terrible I was racked by paroxysms of non-misery), I arrived at the San Diego airport. By then it was 10:00 AM. After those of you who "do math" have "done the math," you might be confused. Then I shall explain that San Diego in fact, be three hours earlier than New York. Which means San Diego is LIVING IN THE PAST. But none of my crazy lottery schemes seemed to pan out. I also tried to mess with their heads by telling them that us future people were highly advanced and lived in cramped gray buildings hundreds of feet high, instead of sunny fields covered with palm trees, whose coconuts were most likely the San Diegans primary source of food. It was here that I, and my parents, met my mother's sister who was coming along with us.

Now the fun part. Some genius of near-Euclidian brilliance decided we should, at this point, drive from San Diego to MEXICO, our destination.

And I must say, the first hour was fine, even fun. So were the next two. And the succeeding three or four. In fact, you couldn't really talk smack about any of the hours, but after "you" had added up eight or so of these human time units, you would be pissed. And cramped.

And we did pass some real interesting scenery. In a way. In Mexico, we passed miles of mind-blowing poorness. They had these shanties that were like houses, except they were made of pieces of billboards and driftwood. And they looked like they couldn't withstand a light breeze, like for instance, exhalation. I don't know where the driftwood came from with no clear rivers or ports in sight. There were also TIRES everywhere, strewn about the landscape like a surrealist Meineke ad. We also passed through Arizona on our way. We were treated to two different landscapes: the first involved scenes of devastating flatness, comprised of either grass-type plantings, or desert. Their were CACTI. They were tall and thick, and vaguely intimidating. We also saw big mountains. Some of them seemed to be gigantic rubble heaps; millions of very large rocks stacked upon one another. But they weren't rubble heaps, not man-made at least. Someone explain this because it's bizarre, and bizarre is only good when it comes from me. And the British.

Finally, we arrived at our Mayan Palace resort, where we retreated to our palatial suite made entirely of rocks precariously stacked upon one another. The Mayans insisted that we leave their temple or face the wrath of mighty Quetzalcoatl, a creature of such daunting and terrifying name that we saw no choice but to leave.

Of course, I'm full of shit. We went to our room, the one facing the driveway instead of the oceanfront, which we had reserved but of course was given to some disrespectful shit who was probably getting plastered at that VERY MOMENT and making terrible messes of the nice artwork.

Oh, and it was COLD. Maybe warmer than New York, but it was probably between sixty and seventy degrees, which isn't Mexico. Now that I thought about it, California was cold too. Someone was clearly having a little fun with me, so I punched the concierge. To show I meant business.

We settled down in our nice room. My parents slept in one bedroom and I had to sleep in the other with my aunt, who can't sleep without her noise generator. Which was okay. I could have gotten to sleep better if it had a setting for "Screeching Cars" or "Loud Arguments Outside My God Damned Window." You know, to remind me of home. But the sleeping arrangements turned out fine, and after approximately 20 hours of wakefulness, I slept.


You have come to the end of Side 1. Please turn the tape to Side 2 to hear the continuation of this tape.

Side 2 will be available Wednesday, possible earlier. This may or may not be the last segment. I don't know how much detail I feel like cramming into your tiny minds.

Yours,
Nicky

MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com.
AIM: Jake Aimer (0) comments

But where does this daring young computer whiz come from? And how did he attain these prodigious powers? Find out, in the secret history of... Microchip!


Young Nicky sits at his computer, typing furiously. His hacking skills are unparalleled.

Nicky: I've got to crack this code! There! I'm through the firewall! All I have to do to access these top secret GOVERNMENT FILES is press this button!

Suddenly...

Nicky: This bolt of energy, emerging from the screen! Aaaaahh...!

As Nicky comes to...

Nicky: What... happened? Is my computer okay?

As Nicky reaches toward his computer, it bursts to life!

Nicky: Incredible! I can control my computer with my MIND! I can slice through the security systems of the world like butter! But, no! I shall use these powers for good! From this day forth, I shall be... Microchip!


Okay... I've been playing a lot of Freedom Force (http://www.myfreedomforce.com/index_ff2.html) lately. It's a pretty good game, but the character introduction scenes are great.

So, tomorrow I'm heading off to Mexico, but I just talked a lot about that yesterday. Not much has changed.

So, today was Valentine's Day. Or was it? No, it wasn't. It was Friday the 13th. And that seems stunningly appropriate to me. Because I'm what the outside world deems a "loser", but to my own community, it makes me elite, which we represent with the numbers 1337. See, they look kind of like numbers. The 1 is like... an "l". And two "e"s and a "t". L-eet. Get it? Oh God, see, this is why I'm not good at Valentine's Day.

So, despite my positively scintillating online personality, I'm really not so popular with the Ladies, or if I were, I wouldn't know it because I'm glued to the wall in a stealthy fashion, avoiding all interaction. Occasionally I'll peek around corners until their backs are turned, and then I'll scuttle past and duck into an air duct, making sure to make no noise. Well, that's an exaggeration, but, well, duh. I'm not even really like that. I can talk to girls, but at some point, I realized they couldn't hear me. Well some of them can. And I don't mind about the others. I mean, it's their loss.

Who am I kidding. And my lack of anything happening today, or ever, in fact, was compounded by the fact that I was surrounded by people holding roses and... hmm. I don't know where the roses came from. Maybe next time I'll bring my own rose and pretend someone gave it to me. Anyway, it was compounded by the fact that people were wandering about with mysterious roses, kissing each other, blatantly, without even ducking into the shadow, and rubbing themselves upon each other in a way that can only be their primitive method of marking their territory.

We've got some pretty hot girls at the school. But they're all dirty whores. I don't really know why girls don't like me that much; I'm relatively good looking, fairly clever, and I... have an array of differently colored tacks lying in a box on my table. Oh, and I'm pretty smart. And I have mad 1337 skillz. I'm thinking maybe it's my lack of confidence. Or maybe it's my palpable self-pity. I mean seriously, look: I'm doing it right now. Or maybe most high schoolers are morons and they'll come to their god damned senses in a few years. Don't worry; I'll be waiting for them.

Um... I should probably end this post, which is my last post for at least a week, probably, on a happier note. Today was my Grandpa's 80th birthday. We got him a big cake. It was yummy. His dog licked my hand. Everyone had fun. Well, no, that was all a complete lie.

But, I mean, I am going to Mexico for a week (see previous post), and that's pretty cool, even though it's supposed to be like 70 degrees and below. I'll be playing tennis too, and reading and drawing. And not using my computer in ANY WAY. I mean, it'll probably be good for me or something. I won't be wasting all my time talking to friends and... reading things on the internet. Informative things. And I won't be posting. Or playing Freedom Force (well that's probably good for me). Or using my awesome Wacom tablet to draw ON my computer. Oh well. You know, my flight's pretty early, I might stay up all night. It's better than sleeping. Sleep is for the week. I can see my EYES! And it's only 8:00. Woo!

Nicky

MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com. (0) comments

Well, I would probably have my homework done by now, have practiced guitar for a while, maybe done some drawing or read a book. But I guess we'll never know.

OR WILL WE? Join me next week, as I spend my one week break (whatever it's called) in some part of Mexico that has NO sights to see and is apparently COLD, actually. While enjoying my stay, I will describe life without the internet. To a wall. Because I sure as hell won't be able to describe it to YOU. Because you're on the INTERNET.

-Oh no, Goliath! Nicky's caps lock keeps turning on and off as he types, making certain words all in CAPS!
-I don't think that's a caps lock malfunction there, Davey.
-Shut your fucking face, he-bitch!
-When Hell freezes over!
(Fighting! Da Da! Da Da! Da da!)
-We interrupt this emergency television show to return you to your normally programmed emergency interruption.

Anyway, my point is, I have some sort of break coming up, and I'm totally free! So I can hang with you guys all week and stuff. Except I'll be in MEXICO.

-Oh, boo hoo, poor Nicky, he has to go to Mexico for a week!
-Shut your fucking face, he-bitch!
-Oh, you told him Davey!
*Slap!*
-Hey, Nicky, that was my fucking face!
-Ooh, I'm sorry Davey!
*Slap!*
-That's just wrong!
-What is?
-That place you slapped me!
-Ah ha! But you don't exist! How could I have slapped you?
-What? but of course I- YYAAAARRRGGGHHHHHHHH!

I've got to stop this. Okay, Waterman is pretty funny. You can check that shit out at watermanstudios.com Just to clear anything up, that has nothing to do with the rest of this posting. Heh: postage. That makes sense, doesn't it? That drawing I did is still available to look at, just find the link in the previous post. It would be nice if you made some comments on the website at which it is hosted.

Anyway, I might post again this week, but I'll be leaving on Saturday and I won't be back until... Saturday, I guess. You know, the OTHER Saturday. But you should expect some sort of post when I return, talking about my vacation and all. My vacation to MEXICO, where they don't have the internet, only they do except they call it the... Internet. But I don't know Spanish, so it's not like I'll even be able to find one of these cybercafes or whatever, which Mexicans refer to as "los cibercafés!" And I don't even know why they have a Spanish name; it's not like Mexicans can afford the internet. Ha ha, it's a joke! It was a generalization. Mexicans can afford the internet easily, provided they are drug smugglers! Ha ha... Mexicans are poor or they're criminals. But you can steal shampoo from their hotels, and what are they going to do about it?

Oh God... anyway, I started this post with a point, and my point is: "Embrace diversity. Celebrate your differences. Mexicans are usually polite and friendly, and have huge supermarkets that will sell you a dozen eggs for 65 cents." I would know. I've been there seven times or something. Because I'm rich, rich I tell! Richer than astronauts! Actually, I'm not. Fuck you. But I have been to Mexico about seven times.

Now I'm just killing time. Everyone knows I don't want to do my history homework. So, until later this week or in somewhat over a week, this is Nicky Young, signing off.

Nicky

AIM: Jake Aimer
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com. (0) comments

Eh, this isn't a real post. I just felt like notifying everyone that I posted a picture I drew of myself on this website: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/5164656/

If you're wondering, I used a digital photo of myself, and I traced over that with my Wacom tablet. Then I drew in all the color with a program called Painter. I can't really tell if it's any good but I'm fairly proud of myself.

So, anyone who doesn't know me... that's essentially what I look like. That long thing coming out of my head is HAIR. It's supposed to look like that. And it really is blond. I don't die it; I'm just a freak. One of those cool freaks. I'm an X-Man. Ha ha. I out-evolved YOU.

Okay, signing off. Oh, and no post on Monday. I've given you enough this week. I will post at least once more by Wednesday.

Nicky

AIM: Jake Aimer
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com. (0) comments

Deus Ex, not the website. Did I scare you? I thought I might have. Yeah, I beat it today. Quite a hefty playtime too, if you're looking for value. This game lasted me well over 30 hours, and it could have been much longer, I'm not sure. Took me about one and a quarter months.

And this begs the inevitable question: what next?

Well, that's an interesting question. Of course, I may go back and beat the game with its two alternate endings (see, there are THREE), thus proving that I'm not what you'd call "not a nerd", but nor am I an exceptional nerd, for many a gamer has beaten all three endings. But, right now I just don't feel like it. I might do it later, just so I can tell my little nerd friends I did. Then we will laugh maniacally, don capes, synchronize our watches and sit right back down. Because THAT'S what we do.

This may mean I suddenly begin spending my free time doing, say, ANYTHING else. Because– GYAH! Look behind you! an MJ12 Commando! PAM PAM PAM! Three shots in the general head direction mean the commando falls on the ground in a deadwise fashion. Right. My point is, I've spent way too many of my hours playing this game.

Oh oh! If any of you want to further prevent me from escaping into reality, where the Earth's yellow sun may very well give me super powers (I really have no way of knowing until I try), someone can get me a copy of Max Payne. Just get me the original. I probably couldn't run Max Payne 2. Maybe it's not even out for the Macintosh. We have oh-so-much computing power, you know, the world's cheapest supercomputer was made by some MIT guys with a bunch of G5 personal computers. Yeah. I think they got paid with pizza. If I were Conan O'Brien, or if I were speaking, that line would have been so funny. It's true though. Well, actually, it's not. Only the volunteers who helped assemble the device got pizza. I don't know what the programmers got. Microchips, perhaps? Get it? They're CHIPS. Chips! Chips. Chippos. Chippity chippity. Oh god I need sleep. But that's great. See, I stay up really late all week, and I do the same thing during the weekend. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER! Yee hee hee hee hee hee! My point is, we have a lot of computing power but everyone hates us. And we don't get games. And without games, how can we become the violent teans everybody knows us to be? Huh? Huh?

Okay, previously I mentioned Force Monkeys. I spelled it "Force Monkies". I apologize. It's too bad they ended the strip after about a year. Good stuff though. It's Gamespy.com/comics/forcemonkeys. I've also got them up in the links section, but as of this posting, I haven't yet rectified the naming error.

On a final note, Conan O'brien may some day graduate to become a being composed completely of energy. Then if I become an art major, I can join him. He's the best late night host. He deserves acclaim. Or possibly some kind of "accolade". Leno is old anyway. Not very old, but... okay, he's not really old. But he's annoying. Conan O'brien is the young whippersnapper. He's like 40. So shut up.

On a final note, about the posting schedule thing. Wow, what a great idea. Like Communism. Okay, the thing is, I did that post, plus this one and another one, all before the deadline. Well, that's probably just the creative spurt that occurs every time I break the downward spiral. This means the schedule system will probably be required within a week or two, when posting is unfun again. But I'll try to do it, just for you guys, and especially you ladies.

Nicky Young

MY AIM: Jake Aimer
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com. (0) comments

Just can't find them anywhere. So here's how it went:

Nicky was lying on his bed, his face smushed against the side of the frame as he looked down on his science textbook which lay on the floor. He struggled blindly through the obtuse sentences, letting the words enter his mind and flow through it without distraction. He theorized, if he read the words, even without understanding them, it still counted.

"How am I supposed to read NINE pages about the nervous system?" Nicky pondered.

Suddenly, Nicky realized he was tired. Then he remembered that that was the entire reason he'd come to read his textbook on a bed. But the fatigue was weighing him down. He'd stayed up until 1:30 the previous night, reading the fantastic Force Monkies comic, and the tiredness was starting to loom big like a full moon on the horizon. The boring, outdated textbook only served to compound Nicky's weariness, and his eyes began to droop.

"But, no!" he shouted! "I must remain awake, for if I slumber, I may not awake until the morning, at which it will be too late to finish my remaining science, history, and english!"

And oh! How hard Nicky fought, and he succeeded!





...Right. So then, five minutes later I woke up with a little bit of drool dribbling down my chin and said, "Whah?" For my clock insisted that five minutes had passed since I had so desperately fought off sleep. But knowing I had succeeded in my battle, I was confused. Clearly, aliens were involved.

Well, I don't know know what happened, all I know is it's to blame for the fact that I'm now writing a post instead of doing the aforementioned homework. Actually, I finished the science. By not reading the text. Multiple choice! Whoo! But I still have History and English.

Hey, I'm sure you've all noticed that the ShoutOut system no longer works. Turns out, the people that were running it are inadequate to handle the sheer size of your input. On one hand, I'm impressed, on the other hand, thanks a lot guys, you broke my friend. So, you may have noticed I have a new system in place, but it doesn't work yet. I'm still working on it, okay? And you can still email me or talk with me on AIM if you like; I really like to hear what you guys think about this crazy place. So, back to work.

En Taro Adun, friends.

Nicky

MY SCREEN NAME! Jake Aimer
MY E-MAIL! Okayeahwhatever@yahoo.com. (0) comments

I think you know what I mean. This. The not posting. The practically criminal negligence of our audience. The inappropriate amount of time spent in the bathroom. I don't know what is wrong with me. In my previous post I hadn't posted since... well, I don't remember what I said. Because it's just so long ago. And you know what else? It's been longer since that post, than it had been before that post and... you see. Now, normally, I would have something to say, some news about my life, something that pisses me off. But I don't. I'm pretty much just writing to mantain some semblance of an active website and to keep the nasty Man from shutting down this website which I, admitedly, pay nothing for and was required to learn no code in order to maintain. Not paying and all is fun, but no code? I'm a disgrace to the nerds, which, unfortunately, does not automatically make me popular with non-nerds. But that's okay. Who needs them anyway?

And it's okay that I don't have anything to say. Most of the time I post I have no idea. But something comes to me. It's human nature, that if you talk enough in your life, you get to the point where saying anything is like jumpstarting a car: it just rolls on from there, and it may bring you to, say, an award ceremony, for you, or you may accidentally run over a hitch-hiking swimsuit model. My point is, you can't stop me. In fact, you'll probably accept anything I have to offer, because despite the veritable treasure trove of attractive websites I have offered to you, you just can't get enough of me. Or those sugar puffs.

So, I've been playing a lot of Deus Ex lately. And by "lately", I mean for the past two months. Because this is a LONG game. And by "a lot", I mean, "xclusively. Because it's the only game I own which I haven't beaten, not because I have some sort of prodigious skill with games so much as that I can only get games as quickly as my two mac frineds can buy them and pirate them to me. So we got about one every six months or so. If you are familiar with computer/video games or are, you know, alive, this game will probably ring a bell for you. For those of you who've been living in a cave, on mars, with your fingers in your ears, while chanting tra-la-la-la-la, well, tell me how those Mars rovers have been doing. And for these same people, I'll explain that Deus Ex is pronounced "Day-Us Ex". Besides which, it's one of the most popular games of all time, a first-person shooter known for its story, extremely open-ended gameplay, and cool RPG elements. And it is great.

It's just annoying as hell. And abusive. This is the first game I can really remember (and there have really been very few I've known well) that has an abusive relationship with me. I feel like that woman who keeps getting smacked around, but then I come back anyway, because I love my man. You know, the man representing a... computer game. And the slapping is... like... being frustrated.

Okay, I'm done with that part. Anyone who's left, tell the rest they can come back now. Oh just great. They're all gone, aren't they? No, maybe they aren't. After all I'd say at least a third of my readers are gamers.Yep, five of my readers are gamers. At LEAST. At least five.

As you may know if you're the kind of person that reads every one of these posts, I'm watching you through your monitor. What I meant to say is, you may know I have both a tablet for drawing pictures into my computer and a scanner, for scanning "analog" drawings. Turns out, neither of these things made me more creative than I was before I got them. Turns out, that number 4 pencil my dad got me for 70 cents has gotten way more usage than this other stuff, and I'm no closer to churning out my brilliant webcomic than I was, although looking back, the characters are much prettier and more refined. But they still look like I ripped off Penny Arcade, a site which I will refer to in every post until everyone who has even a chance of liking it has been there. And I know it's not for everyone, so don't feel guilty if you don't like it. Just give it a try. Also take a look at Mac Hall (machall.com). It's some pretty decent sheessel. Anyway, I'll continue looking for art technology, until I have so much I can't turn to one side without accidentally drawing something or sculpting a statue (the latter may be quite difficult on a computer), and then I will have reached my goal of 100% art-tivity! When people ask me why I got Laguardia Highschool as a drama major and not an art major, I tell them I don't want to risk improving my skills too much and becoming a being composed entirely out of energy, thus accidentally destroying the universe. It's a serious concern!

At said school, we've just begun our second term. For those of you living in said cave on mars with said fingers in ears and singing said tune, (aka, private school goers) this means big trouble. Sort of. See, at my school we have two terms per year, meaning we take two course for each subject. That means twice a year we get new schedules, new teachers, and new classmates. It's a frightening world out there. That also means we get two midterms and two finals every year. This may seem somewhat complicated, but when you take into effect the fact that this system was devised by a crazed monk who sealed himself into a wine casket over 1,000 years ago, it could have gone much worse. That monk is still around. We think he's in the air ducts now.

Okay, I think I'm about done here. And regarding my whimsical habit of waiting for two weeks and then posting several pages-worth of desperate ramblings, I propose: a POSTING SCHEDULE. I just noticed this at Maddox's site (maddox.xmission.com): What he does is, he has a scheduled post date for when his next posting is. That lets people see when to expect something new so they won't all wet their pants in anticipation and then get extra pissed when they realize they have to walk around for a week with dirty pants until their mom does the laundry. Plus, I need to stop mixing figures of speech with metaphors with anything else. And this is a good idea for me too, because it will force me to write more often or risk your tiny, impotent, wraith. And see? This helps you guys too, because you can keep me in line by IMing me (Jake Aimer is the screen name. Don't ask or I will become super pissed and take my Zandeath cyanide pill [side effects include drymouth, chest pains, and life side effects are similar to those in placebo cyanide pill] and die) and going, "Yo, Dude, what the hell?" To this I will respond, "Oh yeah, I've been meaning to post. I'll get to it." Then I'll mutter "After I'm dead," very quietly. But I probably will write something because the thought of alienating my fans (most of whom, or all of whom, I know personally) makes my tiny heart feel mild discomfort. Anyway, it's just a trial.

So until my next scheduled post (or, let's say, anytime before that date), Monday, 2-10-04, I'm your captain, Nicky E. Young, and if you look out your window, you may see two black & white men merrily rowing a rowboat. Don't mind them, as they'll soon plummet to their doom anyway.

NEXT PROJECTED POST: 2-10-04

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