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Taut Nipples
20 most recent entries

Date:2005-10-23 16:18
Subject:Jesus sacrificed his left nipple for me, I swear.
Security:Public

I was walking home from errands I had to do for Lainey at the laundromat (She's sick with mono or something), and was standing at the crosswalk dancing to some salsa music. I thought the crosswalk thing said i could walk, so I did, but I wasn't supposed to. So as I'm sliding and dancing and boogieing to some salsa musica, and this sports car is just speeding along, and BAM, it hit me.

Ten minutes later, I'm in the hospital with a broken arm and leg, and two fractured ribs. I got to eat jelly food for a day, and then Lollita came in when visiting hours were like, 2 minutes from being over, pulled a knife out, and stabbed my leg. And left.

The next day, the doctors come in, see the knife, and think I JUMPED IN FRONT OF THE CAR IN A SUICIDAL ATTEMPT. NO I WAS NOT LISTENING TO SALSA MUSIC AND THEREFORE DIDN'T SEE THE CAR COMING, IT WAS PURE...SUICIDE.

So I went to the Physiciatric Ward. In the first room they interviewed me in, this asian doctor dude was asking all these boogus questions like, "Sexual preference?" "Have you had gay sex?" "How many times?" "Have you given or taken oral sex?" "Have you worked at TACO BELL?" so as I was answering them, this nurse lady comes in and is like, "Who the hell're you?!" and the asian doctor guy bolts out the door.













Just kiddin. ;)

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Date:2005-10-19 17:41
Subject:the hell
Security:Public

Lainey, what the hell.

You don't poo and eat food at the same time. That's...that destroys the purpose of even pooeing!

What the poo.

I saw cashews in your bathroom trashcan while I was pissing (nearly missed because I was "WTF"ing) and you know, you are one complex, strange women.

In fact, I'd go gay if women weren't like, ten times more pleasing to have sex with than a guy. All because of you.

YOU MAKE ME WANT TO GO GAY, is what I'm getting at. Like Lea, but Lea scares me. You just...make me so confused I'd go fuck some dudes shit up. That's a threat, but I doubt it threatens you. You're probably, "Go ahead, kiddo, and I'll laugh SO FECKING HARD." ...:( owi


Damn, this post is turning out to be like, a public service announcement to Lainey.




my god i'm posting!

Turns out Lainey's computer isn't all that sparkles and shines, and died a few days back. Computerless, was I. Furious, was Lainey. Accusing me of looking at porn, was Lollita.

Lainey decided to take her revenge and wrote: "FAG COCKSUCKER ANUS PENIS GO HERE" on my pants. Right on my thigh. Right so the whole world can read it and give me strange looks. And then ask me if I'm gay.

WELL IF MY PANTS DIDN'T TELL YOU ALREADY, YES, I'M SO FUCKING GAY FUCK ME DOWN OH ME SO HORNY


 

 

 

 

 

And they were cool pants, too.
I'll get Elvis to fart on her, one of these days. Atomic farts = K.O!!

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Date:2005-09-25 17:24
Subject:
Security:Public
Mood: --Quint no like wasted meat!

Me: I like to get drunk and hump things.

Lainey: Stop joking and hand me back my meat grinder.

Me: I was being dead serious, Elaine.


Lainey's house is always fun!





I don't want to be a livejournal whore. Sex has turned out to be thoroughly displeasing and unsatisfying with it. (y'see that? Quint uses big words to sound like he wears glasses and eats 'crumpets' and has tea time.)

I filled out a TACO BELL employee thing the other day. Lainey said I should really put some effort into it, and try my damnest, I can't write worth a mango. Or pineapple. It ends up looking like a chicken attempted to write, but then the butcher came out from behind and yelled "WHACHU DOIN?!" and then killed it.


I answered the dumb questions like so:

How did you find out about TACO BELL?
WELL DUH I ATE THERE

Seriously. Where do they get these questions? Queen Elizabeth's ass?

Because there were so many dumb questions, I decided to write, "HAVE A NICE DAY!!!!!!! :)" at the bottom of the first page, and then drew them a flower on the next, saying "FLOWER FOR U!!!!!". My drawing skills are like livejournal sex: unsatisfying. Let's just say the flower was about as ugly as this green penis monster icon. Only less funny.

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Date:2005-09-22 14:36
Subject:
Security:Public



That's what my new tattoo looks like -- only it's straighter. Right on my forearm. Lainey says she's "Opinionless but atleasts its better than Mr. T"

I have yet to know how to make it talk. Sure, a pineapple isn't threatening, but wouldn't it have been scary if I could make it talk!?

Me: My pineapple's yelling at you! GRAWR! MAKE BEEF CHEAPER!
Store clerk: ....*a man flexing his pineapple tattoo has left him speechless*

 

I got another tattoo, but who wants to make a star talk? Stars are suns. Suns equal extremely hot. Suns are scary enough. It's on my calf muscle, so it didn't hurt all that much either.

 

 

When I was waiting for el public transporation to the tattoo parlor, this guy next me (I can't decide if he's gay or not yet.) gave me this look, because you don't see too many straight boys prancing around in tight pants. Must've surprised Mr Gay But Maybe Not. Either way, after staring at me for two uncomfortable minutes, he leaned over and asked me if I was gay.

 

Uh

Since when do people have that right?

Yes, tight pants ride up my ass. Yes, they make me a little sore afterwards. But no, I'm not gay. Jesus! Not every man who wears tight pants plans on anally fucking a guy later that night! ESPECIALLY not a man he just met at a public transportation!

 

I gave him a kind of 'punk-kid-who-dropped-highschool-and-eats-hearts' kind of look before saying, no, I'm not gay. Tight pants just make my ass look fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

He nodded. To what, I don't know. Let's just guess that he was a total fag and liked my ass. His privelege, I guess. To bad he wasn't going to be getting any.

I'm pretty sure I'm not going to use that bus stop again.

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Date:2005-09-12 12:47
Subject:You can't resist random Quinten facts.
Security:Public
Mood: amused

Write 25 Random facts about yourself, timing your responses. Collapse )

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Date:2005-09-11 15:02
Subject:I usually don't do this
Security:Public
Mood:Elvis is squealing.

But I found this supah quote,

 Night time is so pretty
            With all the s t a r s above your eyes

And thought I'd share. :)

As for the status on my tattoo...uh, Lainey threatened me with her effing meat grinder (I gave it back) as in, she'd stick my hole hand in there and then grind it -- rotten.com has a good source of images of what happens when you stick your hand in one -- so I kind of decided to not get one of Mr. T. :)

So

MAH NIGGAHS

Give me some suggestions. Tattoo money is burning a hole in my pocket.

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Date:2005-09-08 21:39
Subject:
Security:Public
Mood:I need a tattoo.

My future tattoo shall be...Collapse )

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Date:2005-09-04 15:21
Subject:
Security:Public

I itch.


 

 

 


...EMERELD YOU STUPID WHORE YOU GAVE ME STD-FLEAS

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Date:2005-09-02 23:28
Subject:Grocery stores are my complex.
Security:Public
Mood:I need a new LJ layout.

(...did I use 'complex' right?)

So today, in need of food supplies for the wife and kids (read: Elvis) back at home, I went to the grocery store.

But...not just any grocery story!

Jesus, haven't you figured it out already that a grocery store cannot be a regular grocery store in a Quint journal entry?! It has to have a unique name. A name like...

"Variety Foods, Yum!"

And I'm not kidding when I say that's where I went today. It's really named that. In fact, I was informed that it was named/owned by an asian man who could barely get his engrish straight. No way. NU UH. Get outta town. His engri--excuse me, 'english' isn't bad! Not at all! Is good! Very good!

...Okay, yes, I'll fess up to buying beef. I swear, it's like a Quinten robot(<--since when?!)-malfunction if I don't check out what prime peices are in for the day. And while I was examining my lean beef, I felt a timid poke on my shoulder and turned around to see my...gay lover.

no. just kidding.

It was a girl who flirted with me religiously in highschool, that, "What's-her-face-hottie" that no-one bothered to know the name of but instead stared at her fiiiiiiine curves. Well, it was her and her curves (they're paramount) and she had that same seductive look she had when she talked 'dirty' to me in Math for Nobrains.

I forgot to mention that even though she has fiiiiiiine curves, she's a part of the itty bitty titty comittee. yes. SAY THAT TEN TIMES FAST HUHEMERELDHUH. Yeah, while her mosquito bites aren't the most pleasant thing to stare at, her face has grown a lot more 'adult' in the last few years.

I'm just glad it wasn't another run-in with my cousins. thankjesuslordinheaven.

Lah lah lah, it went like this:

I turned around to face her, smiled, and then said the common greeting we created in Math for Brainsno.

"Greetings, Master of the Universe."

She laughed, and then said her pre-created greeting: "Down, my love pet. Later."

I'll admit she's cool. Not so cool that I'd stick around with her as say...a 'friend', but we were well aqquainted. aquainnteed. whatthefuckever.

We started talking about what's been going on recently, learned some things I could have cared less to know about, and that's when she broke the good atmosphere:

"I heard you died. Good thing you didn't!"

Cracka, please.

Me? Die? Supah Quint does not die, you foolish itty bitty titty comittee member.

And, cracka who be spreadin' all this whishwash black bullshiz about me betta watch his ass, yo, i'd creep up your thong [backalley] with mah man-peeler [knife] any day!

"Oh...yeah. Who'd you hear that from?" I tried not to sound like my inner-black-self-ready-to-AH-NAI-HILL-ATE because 'man-peeler' sounds sort of creepy.

"You know, where ever!" Omg, leik, know I don't no!

After our mood breaker, I kind of felt like she was going to steal my perfect beef, so I kind of ignored her as she rambled on and on about sex, dirty things, flirtatious things, Barney (....hahahah! PHSYCE...PSHYCE? ) and was determined to find my beef.

Hm. I remembered her name as she spoke and as I searched for the perfect beef -- Mercedes -- and now that I think about it, she's like Lea the Stalker, only she has long, blonde hair (mid back) with brown streakie-things in it. Her breastisies are smaller than Lea's though. (I HAVEN'T BEEN LOOKING AT LEA SHUT YOUR MOUTH CRACKA)

Mercedes said she had to go -- she recieved a cellphone call in the middle of our conversation -- kissed me on the cheek and then went bye-bye. Yeah. That's basically how amazing my day was. (and as I was waving goodbye to Mercedes, an old lady snatched the beef out of my hand, i swear to god. she just took it and ran. an old lady...effing ran away with my beef. the fuck.)

Grocery stores are where things always happen for me.



Elvis seems to think it's alright to chase (read: waddle hurriedly) after anyone who walks by the house, scaring them shitless. I fed her some fluff the other day, and I think she thinks everyone will give her fluff now.

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Date:2005-08-28 11:38
Subject:
Security:Public
Mood: Surveys are fucky.

Ho shit. Survey.Collapse )

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Date:2005-08-23 23:34
Subject:Shit, son, betta watch out!
Security:Public
Mood: Too much cleaning.

So, as preparation for the people who have offered to help sort-of repair my house, I decided to clean it up a bit.


...46 trash bags later, and I'm full of nostalgia.

Not only am I glad I can see my floor again, but I can't believe how many things were rotting away without me knowing! There was a hole in my living room, covered by misc. shit, that if I misplaced a footstep there, I surely would have fallen into an Indian Burial Ground that rests beneath my house. (I'm not sure if there actually is one...but, man, I'd so tell the newspapers!) I also found old posters I stole from my relatives house when I moved away. If anything good came from them, it was that they contributed and helped grow my love for classic rock and classical music. But fuck them. They don't deserve credit. *heart*

I was scared Elvis would fall into the IBC/basement-i-didn't-know-i-had beneath my house so I covered it with things she wouldn't/should not like. Like festering shoes I found. (Festering because I thought the mold on them barked at me. How shoes can grow mold, I have no idea. Kind of like the milk that appears on my porch. Ah well.)  She seems to not like things that have a dime more foul odor than her.

And yes, I said festering. Like Uncle Fester from the Adams Family!


Now, don't get my wrong, Garbage Fairy, there is still work to be done. 46 trashbags was all I had, so yes, there is still garbage up the wazoo amidst the floor. My real, official reason for cleaning the floor was so Elvis didn't kill herself by eating glass/stepping on it. But ssssshhhh, maybe my friends will think I'm considerate. *heart*


I found things I thought the pimp under my bed ate. Like old cassettes and...uh...magazines I missed dearly on lonely nigh--o-of course, I couldn't possibly live without my magazines that pump me full of knowledge!! Yes! KNOWLEDGE!


Anyways, I think that's all this update deserves. A brief insight into Quinten Brown's life. Now that I think about it, that's probably how Lea the Stalker found out about me. By my stupid LJ name. Maybe I should make it less obvious I'm the man down the street in the caving-in house who has a pet skunk.






Ooooooh man, Elvis is so cool with her mohawk. :)

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Date:2005-08-22 00:30
Subject:
Security:Public

Dear Garbage Fairy,

I have a problem. Not me, but my house does. It needs help. It's falling apart, slowly, and I'm afraid she'll cave in one of these days while I'm sleeping.

You may be asking yourself, "Wtf, i'm the garbage fairy. not house repairs" but you don't see that my house IS garbage, so therefore, you have work to do.

Now get off your lazy ass and sprinkle fairy, pixie, unicorn, whatEVER dust on my house and make it all better.

Love,
The man who knows where you live and will hunt you down if you don't do this. <3

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Date:2005-08-19 23:13
Subject:
Security:Public

Oh crazy.Collapse )

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Date:2005-08-10 16:25
Subject:Zombies eat brains. Stalkers eat nekkid photos. :O
Security:Public
Mood: stalker me no like

It was the start of a day. A day...just like any other day. The sun says: Fuck you. The morning milk on my front porch says: Spoooooky. There aren't even milk men anymore! How did I get here?! :)

But when you reach down to pick up your suspicious milk and see a girl with short, blonde hair picking through your trashcans suddenly look up at you with such intensity (kind of like a deer in headlights -- you know, when you ask yourself: "Hey...is that a deer? OH SHIT, ITS NOT MOVING! -bvvewerrrrrooooooo! tire screeeeech-bamdeerdead-") and such fear and such wide blue eyes it seems to say: I'M YOUR MOTHER FUCKING STALKER, BITCH.

Oh, I'm not kidding.

As much as I'd find it flattering to have a stalker, I now have various reasons that lead me to believe I do not want one. There are reasons, which I shall list, but first let me introduce this stalker. This creepy stalker. This trashcan creepy stalker. This stalker who could be a playmate but instead spends her time picking through my trashcans creepy stalker.

Lea.

Like, Leah, but with out the H.

LEA.

LeA.

LLEEEAAAAAAAAA.

I was so scared, so very very scared when I saw her that morning, wearing a shirt with my face on it, her and her dyke spike, her and her blue eyes, her and her obnoxious laughter, her...her....she...she's scary.

Scary like

like

uh

Scary like Mc'donalds cancer-inducing fries. SCARY LIKE CANCER.

No!

Scary like Gary Coleman/Colemon!

EXCEPT SHE AGES.


Of course, she scattered away from my trashcans after I gave her a brief, confused look, then yelled (while throwing the milk) "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!!?!?!?!?!?"


But it doesn't stop there. Oh no. It keeps going.

Just the other day, I open my door, grumbling, and see hair clump, neatly arranged hair clumps on my dirty little "Welcome" mat. Now, as I bent over to inspect these nicely arranged hair clumps, something dawned on me with such utter horror that I...I almost slammed the door on my nose.

They were my  hair clumps. With little, Quinten-faces taped onto them. A community of hair-clump-Quinten-faces.


Then, this little stalker found out my phone number. Now she decides to leave messages every ten seconds. Some of her messages are the following:

"Hey! Just wanted to say hi so hi." I could hear her smile.

"HAW HAW BAWAG HAW -buck snort- BWAUGH HAW OHOY HOUY HEE!" Her laugh. For no reason. scawwie.

"Hey, just wanted to say hi, Quint. How're you? Doing good? Call me back some time. =) =) =) =) =)io45yurhegre" ):

"So, like, do you ever answer your phone? =)"

"I LOVE YOUR HAIR."

"OMG QUINT I LOVE YOU HAVE MY BABIES PLEASE"

"Have sex with me."

"...I don't have gonorrhea (...uh). Who told you that?" MY ASS.

"..............I love you omg make babies with me, pleaessesesesese hee hee heeeeeeessseeeee."

"Quint, I'm pregnant. Does Quint Jr. Sound like a good name to you?"


Just the other day, I found condoms on my porch, along with more hair clumps. Head hair clumps, thankfully.

I think this girl has a Quint shrine. As in, she catches pictures of me nekkid or something.

Oh bitch, I'm scared. I won't even take the time to list what scares me about stalkers. I bet her favorite number is 5.

I wouldn't doubt her camera has pictures of me. On the camera, I mean. The camera that takes my pictures to begin with,


 

 



.............

 



Does that mean she masturbates to me?

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Date:2005-08-03 14:02
Subject:Oooooh, yeah.
Security:Public

Before I forget.


The amazing adv--trip prt 2Collapse )

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Date:2005-08-03 14:01
Subject:Ow.
Security:Public

My left man boob hurts.


...I think someone made a voo-doo doll of me.

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Date:2005-07-28 23:09
Subject:...What does Hedonism mean?
Security:Public
Mood:Like fuck I make friends easy

some quiz i took just nowCollapse )

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Date:2005-07-28 22:06
Subject:Whoo heee!!!
Security:Public

What do you do when you're bored, your TV's broken, and Lainey's computer isn't anywhere around to be sabotaged?!

You board the summer school bus, you dingbat!

 

The trip prt 1.Collapse )

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Date:2005-07-27 03:50
Subject:
Security:Public

Based on the popular Concert Select Silent Violin, the new Silent Violin and Silent Viola are particularly appropriate for serious amateur and professional performers. The new generation was designed to provide the most acoustic sounding tone on the electric market. The SV-200 Silent Violin meets the needs of serious performers with dual piezo pickups, a built-in quarter-inch jack and a studio-quality pre-amp to make amplifying and recording easier than ever. Where previous models offer three pre-set reverb options, the new violin adds an EQ dial and dual pickup balance, and features D'Addario Helicore strings as well. Finally, a re-designed lower bout allows any standard shoulder rest to be used. The Silent Violin is available in brown, black and two new colors - cardinal red and ocean blue.

 

WE WANTS IT PRECIOUSSSSS


Also:
You scored as DAVID BERKEWITZ. YOUR DAVID BERKEWITZ, ALSO KNOWN AS THE SON OF SAM, THE 44 CALIBER KILLER

</td>

DAVID BERKEWITZ

100%

TED BUNDY

92%

ED GEIN

83%

JOHN WAYNE GACY JR

83%

RICHARD "NIGHTSTALKER" RAMIREZ

83%

DAHMER

50%

ALBERT FISH

42%

WHICH FAMOUS SERIAL KILLER ARE YOU?
created with QuizFarm.com

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Date:2005-07-27 03:19
Subject:SCORE!
Security:Public

i have decided to abandon capitals on the highway of grammar. they can starve and die of starvation, and i shall not cry. this is also a sort of "F-U" to Lainey. <3

 

dig this man.

i went to the park today, and met and befriended a quadriplegic hindu who's name is Shalin2 -- with the effing 2. man. i love being cool. Emereld, do YOU know any quadriplegic hindu's named Shalin2? didn't think so. se--love slave, do YOU?

we had a very merry conversation. it consisted of bizarre things, and i came to realize that these hindu folk are just what i was waiting for: crazy, ecentric, and smart. all in one! i can't even draw a metaphor of how cool they are. like...like when you get a big chunk of meat and there's no fat on it, only a good, healthy piece of meat. or something. dammit, i suck. i can't even explain how cool they are.

what kind of crazy, bizarre things did our conversation consist of, you poor, starving child in Brazil ask? why, of beastiality and politics, you big silly!

neither of us approve of beastiality (or politics), and it made one helluva good conversation. me and my quadriplegic hindu friend laughing over the dumbest things, with me chilling on a park bench, and he on his automatic scooter thing.

 

as i was writing this, there came a thought that i should try poetry again. you know, that emo bullshit your teachers always made you write in highschool? yeah, that. i will re-invent poetry.

thoughts, oh thoughts
you zoom around my mind like a bee
a bee, see
that I would gladly shoot with a
twelve gauge
emo sucks
so do bees
but quadriplegic hindu's
are for me!

 



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