The Great Escape

When your parents piss you off... but you know you cant say anything...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 10:45:49 -0500

So when they turn around your all like…

LMFAO

whatifweddings: Marriage From A Kid’s Perspective 1. HOW DO...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 10:44:42 -0500

Marriage From A Kid’s Perspective

1. HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHOM TO MARRY?

You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like
sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep
the chips and dip coming.
— Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they’re going to
marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who
you’re stuck with.– Kristen, age 10

2. WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
— Camille, age 10

3. HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?

You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at
the same kids.
— Derrick, age 8

4. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON

Both don’t want any more kids.
– Lori, age 8

5. WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?

-Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know
each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
— Lynnette, age 8

-On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually
gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
— Martin, age 10

6. WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
-When they’re rich.
— Pam, age 7

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn’t want to mess with
that.
– - Curt, age 7

-The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry
them and have kids with them. It’s the right thing to do.
– - Howard, age 8

7. IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It’s better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone
to clean up after them.
— Anita, age 9

8. HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN’T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn’t there?
— Kelvin, age 8

And the #1 Favorite is…

9. HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump
truck.
— Ricky, age 10

So cute!

mrbrightside-: (via splitroads)

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 18:56:20 -0400

mrbrightside-:

(via splitroads)

God Complex

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 10:31:00 -0400

I was sitting in my parents bedroom tucking them in. I don’t do that ever, for the record, so I don’t know where that came from. All of the sudden, I “heard” something from behind their room, the side where the window isn’t.

“Emily’s here!” I said, jumping up and down. “Please can I go outside and see her?”

My dad gave me a look, but my mom said yes.

The scene changes. I’m outside my house, and I’m sitting down at a picnic table (that we don’t actually have) next to a light pole covered in ivy (that we do have). Emily and her roommate Fallon were there. We all talked, and as the night went on, people started appearing.

Someone suggests playing a game. By this point, there’s 6 or 7 people there. It involved sparklers.

The scene changes. We’re standing in front of the neighbors front door, like we’re expecting something to happen. Something does and it’s bad.

The scene changes. We’re running an underground shelter from my basement. People keep pouring in from the unknown. The 6 or 7 of us haven’t seen daylight in weeks. Or maybe months, I don’t remember. Someone wants to bring a dog with them but we just don’t have the room. It comes anyways.

The mothers with small children stay on the bottom bottom floor, through a couple of hidden doors. They’re all crying and complaining and I don’t know what to do, even though they sent me downstairs because I’m supposed to be the expert. Most of the mothers are glaring at me. They don’t understand why they never get news of the outside world.

“Why can’t you just tell us what’s going on?” They don’t understand. It’s bad out there, whatever that means.

I crawl into bed with a couple of children who are crying and want their mommy, who isn’t with them. I don’t know what else to do. They hold onto my arms like I’m the one that can save them.

I wish I could.

The scene changes. I’m in my dorm room with someone who isn’t my roommate. We have a huge bathroom to ourselves. There’s war going on outside, and I’m powerful. I’ve got the power to do something. I don’t know what. Stop the terror?

I’m too cocky. I have a God complex. I won’t do anything but stay in the room and protect myself and pick fights with my roomie. We argue constantly.

The scene changes. My roommate is gone. She’s had enough. Something happens in the bathroom. I battle. I win.

The scene changes. I’m hanging out with some of the international students I worked with this summer. Everything looks like we’d been hit by the atomic bomb, except 10 years after the fact. Buildings burned during the Civil War and rebuilt have somehow stood the test of time and made it through this atomic bomb. It’s my friend’s birthday and we’re standing outside her building, hanging out on steps that go up a hill. People from my high school are there. There’s a debate over the cake, but miraculously someone made one. We have no idea how they got the ingredients. We’re going to go up to the room when —

I wake up. And that’s my dream.

Happy Birthday

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 08:08:00 -0400

It was my birthday. All of my immediate family was there, plus my aunt and uncle’s children. We were sitting outside at some restaurant because there wasn’t enough room inside. Everyone kept rearranging where they were sitting. That, or every time I would dream blink they would be in a different spot.

I ordered Chinese food even though I was at a restaurant. My excuse was that I had ordered it before I had known the party was happening. I also, apparently, invited a friend. This friend and I aren’t close anymore, so I have no idea why I invited her, especially because my dream self moved her seat just so she wouldn’t have to sit next to this friend, so looked very sad.

Then my aunts made a mysterious disappearance, saying they had to go get something.

The Chinese food came. It was General Tso’s chicken but it was in the shape of pigs. Literally. You know when Chinese food gets cold and all the sauce sort of congeals in one corner of the tray? That’s what the sauce was doing even though the food was hot. It was congealed mini pigs. It looked disgusting and I didn’t want to eat any of it.

I think I probably would have become a vegetarian if my aunts hadn’t come back.

The scene changes. I’m sitting around a pool on a raised platform looking at a road. It’s completely straight except for a random semi-circle blip in it. The road kind of looks like a question mark. My aunt’s are sitting next to me. A middle school marching band “marches” by in fast motion. Warp speed. It turns out the ground below is actually a fake road that is moved mechanically.

Then my aunts are suddenly gone and my friend is sitting next to me. She takes my picture, and then is gone.

One of my aunts is back, and she points towards the end of the road. It’s my high school marching band coming down the road. They’re moving a lot slower, but still going pretty fast. After about 5 to 10 seconds, the performance is over. Everyone runs towards me and wishes me happy birthday.

An old friend Seth says happy birthday really fast and disappears. Kati comes up and hugs me, saying “This is so cool!”

I look towards my aunt and ask her if she did this. She nods, smiles, and disappears.

My old band director gives one of his famous waves at me, and then —

I wake up. It’s early. I go back to sleep.

I’m laying on a random “bench” type thing in the wall. My friend Kelly is lying on the floor below me. The room in front of us is a gym, minus the fixings. Other than the spring floor, we’re sitting in a white box with a row of doors on one side. The band is practicing. My sister, drum major in dream world, runs through a figure eight figure (no pun intended) 5 or 6 times.

The scene changes. We’re in a locker room the size of a mansion with the lighting of a dungeon and the smell of a meat locker. I’m following my sister. She keeps disappearing through doors ahead of me. For one minute, I see my old boss walk through a door in front of me, trying to find her daughter.

I duck through a door to the right to avoid a confrontation.

The scene shifts. I’m standing behind my sister, telling her it’s time to go. The room is filled with random people from my past and present: a guy I sort of like, the friends I used to spend my time with, people I see walking down the road but don’t know personally. She rolls her eyes and continues changing. I wait a minute until she’s fully clothed, but she doesn’t move. Without thinking, I drop her bag and gross clothes and everything on the floor. Then I grab her purse, with her cell phone, iPod, money, etc., in it, and head towards one of the many locker room doors.

“If you aren’t at the car by the time it starts, I’m leaving you. Count on it.”

She glances at the guy I sort of like, who’s staring in a mirror and doesn’t even move. She probably likes him too. Shrugging, she walks towards the door like it was her decision all along.

The scene changes. I’m in an old abandoned house and something happens where I turn somebody into something good and somebody into something bad. Definitely scary.

I wake up. I’m up for good. And that’s my dream.

Dream Drunkfest

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 08:42:00 -0400

I was riding in a jeep, one of those that don’t have any actual sides and make you feel like you’re flying down the road 80 miles an hour wrapped in a plastic sheet, towards apartments.

Name: King and Queens.

The apartments exist, I’ve just never been there. The weird thing was they were on sand. It was an apartment complex in the middle of a Sahara desert. Like Dorothy’s house had floated into Oz, so had this apartment complex come to exist behind my college campus. The location made it impossible for the police to track (how? Talk to my subconscious), which basically meant that they were a drunkfest 24/7.

We get to the apartments and I walk towards one I’m familiar with. The music is pulsing from the living room. I walk in. There aren’t a lot of people there. The floor is sand, but the living room is the only room that seems to be like that. No one else is going into any of the other rooms.

The scene shifts. The room is crowded now, and I can see someone running towards me through the window. I seem to know what’s going to happen. A 24 year old guy is being dragged across the sand floor towards me. He’s beyond gone, and barely conscious. The guy is dumped onto my shoulder, and even though he’s a good 50 pounds heavier than me, I seem to be supporting him just fine. I just shake my head and start walking towards the kitchen. A girl standing in the kitchen barely glances at us as we walk by. When we get to the edge of the room, the guy wakes up enough to pass me a check.

For 5,000 some-odd dollars. (Oh how I wish this was real life!)

He gave me a look like, “We’re even”, leans over my shoulder and vomits everywhere, then passes out. I drag him upstairs to his bedroom and go back partying.

The scene shifts. I’m ready to leave the party. It’s around 2 in the morning. The sandy apartment I’ve been in has now reached maximum capacity.

The scene shifts. I’m riding in a car towards campus.

The scene shifts. I’m walking towards the frat houses on the other side of campus. I’d told the drivers of the car that I’d just walk back to my dorm from there. Walking through the houses was a shortcut. I’d never been inside them, and as I trek up the stairs my stomach is in knots.

The scene shifts. Each house is huge and catered to the specific fraternity’s needs. I’m standing in the doorway of an attic. One half of the room has a sloping roof and a raised stage floor. A group of guys are sitting there, some drinking beers, some playing cards, all of them talking to a each other. Girlfriends are scattered sparsely throughout the group, but for the most part, all of the guys there seem single. I say hi and tell them I’m just walking back to my room. Some of them smile and one offers to walk me back. I say no but sit down and listen to them talk for a while.

The scene shifts. I’m walking down a hallway listening to an a capella version of Glee (Wednesdays at 9 on Fox, watch it!). It’s coming from a room down the hall. Peaking my head into the room, I realize it’s an impromptu performance. People are crowded around the center ring of people, who are swaying and clapping and letting the music go. A man in the corner spots me and walks over.

“What are you doing here? You haven’t been invited. Get out!” he says to me. I shrink back but hold my ground.

“I’m just walking through and I heard the music.” After a moment of awkward silence, I add “They’re very talented. Are you their director?”

After a while he lets me listen.

The scene shifts. It’s around 4 am now. I’m walking around the edge of a pool. Stadium lights have been set up around the outside of the patio, so even though the sky is pitch black and cloudy, the pool reflects stars of light.

The scene shifts. A couple of guys have joined me outside, and somehow I’m wearing a swimsuit. I don’t want to think about where I might have gotten it. We’re all laughing and smiling. My feet are dangling in the water. Somebody pretends they’re going to push me under, but I slip below the surface of the water anyways. The water is cool and refreshing, and as I look up into the lights shining brightly above, shimmying with the waves I made —

I wake up. And that’s my dream. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d151H2KUaf0

(via mrbrightside-)

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 14:01:52 -0400

(via mrbrightside-)

Beginning.

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 21:21:48 -0400

So basically, I have no idea what I’m doing, but this looks like fun :)