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Life In A Crater
Chronicles of an Unprepared Immigrant
Created on 2008-07-24 02:26:29 (#16165750), last updated 2009-07-28
18 comments received, 6 comments posted
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| Name: | lifeinacrater |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1987-12-14 |
I am a semi-intelligent humanoid caucasian of the XX chromosomal set. I am proficient in the art of babble-gonkery, hooplah, nannendorfery, and am well-known for my excellent skills in confoundery.
Mascots make me unreasonably angry (they have freakishly big heads) and Dr. Phil makes me vomit in my mouth a little. I'm a pro-choice, pro-equality, anti-ignorance, health-conscious, environmentalist leftist but i've somehow managed to remain a complete cynic amidst all of it. I'm not sure how; it might be a talent. My sarcasm gland is too big for my body.
Unlike most existentialists, I secretly adore my family. My sister is OCD-awesome and makes me laugh more than she knows. My parents are lovably flawed. My close circle of friends are a retarded kind of perfect. I've remained close to all of my former co-workers and I value human interaction even though its hip to be misanthropic.
I hate philosophy; Luhmann and Descartes can suck it.
I listen to NIN, Iggy Pop, Miles Davis, Pitbull Daycare, Bing Crosby, Puscifer, Lilly Allen, Marilyn Manson, and anything else that happens to catch my attention, and I seem to have a fetish for actors with gray hair (Richard Dean Anderson, Hugh Laurie, William Peterson). Mmm, old.
I got no future, great big past, little bitty guy on the rim of my glass, gotta see a doctor 'bout the words I've said, gotta get a bike, gotta paint it red. D:
The most perfect foods in the world are chocolate-chip-banana pancakes and mashed potatoes, but they should be eaten in moderation, and never together at the same time. Rum is also awesome.
And, I'm Jigsaw, bitch.
Mascots make me unreasonably angry (they have freakishly big heads) and Dr. Phil makes me vomit in my mouth a little. I'm a pro-choice, pro-equality, anti-ignorance, health-conscious, environmentalist leftist but i've somehow managed to remain a complete cynic amidst all of it. I'm not sure how; it might be a talent. My sarcasm gland is too big for my body.
Unlike most existentialists, I secretly adore my family. My sister is OCD-awesome and makes me laugh more than she knows. My parents are lovably flawed. My close circle of friends are a retarded kind of perfect. I've remained close to all of my former co-workers and I value human interaction even though its hip to be misanthropic.
I hate philosophy; Luhmann and Descartes can suck it.
I listen to NIN, Iggy Pop, Miles Davis, Pitbull Daycare, Bing Crosby, Puscifer, Lilly Allen, Marilyn Manson, and anything else that happens to catch my attention, and I seem to have a fetish for actors with gray hair (Richard Dean Anderson, Hugh Laurie, William Peterson). Mmm, old.
I got no future, great big past, little bitty guy on the rim of my glass, gotta see a doctor 'bout the words I've said, gotta get a bike, gotta paint it red. D:
The most perfect foods in the world are chocolate-chip-banana pancakes and mashed potatoes, but they should be eaten in moderation, and never together at the same time. Rum is also awesome.
And, I'm Jigsaw, bitch.
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