IDIOT SAVANT

Your Score: the Idiot Savant

(47% dark, 73% spontaneous, 68% vulgar)

your humor style:
VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT

You like things silly, immediate, and, above all, outrageous. Ixne on the subtle word play, more testicles on fire, please. People like you are the most likely to RECEIVE internet forwards--and also the most likely to save them in a special folder entitled 'HOLY SHIT'.

Because it's so easily appreciated, and often wacky and physical, your sense of humor never ceases to amuse your friends. Most realize that there's a sly intelligence and a knowing wink to your tastes. Your sense of humor could be called 'anti-pretentious'--but paradoxically enough, that indicates you're smarter than most.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Johnny Knoxville - Jimmy Kimmel

The 3-Variable Funny Test!
- it rules -

If you're interested, try my best friend's best test:
The Genghis Khan Genetic Fitness Masterpiece

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

If you don’t know what today is,

You’re prolly a wanker.

Or a Man U fan.

 

Packages

I’ve bought A LOT of stuff off teh inturwebz the past couple of weeks. For what reason, I do not know. I don’t really need these things. I have a compulsion. I am sick. I like receiving packages. That’s about it. I like the opening of it and then the finding of the thing. That’s all.

I think this might seriously land me in some deep debt. I’d willingly buy an air guitar if it meant it gets packed in a box and shipped over to me. Packages, just a few of my favorite things.

***

UPDATE:

Ever since I’ve decided to throw away money I don’t have, I have gotten just 7 packages. That isn’t too bad, right?

Ewan!

So there’s this .. person .. who used to be in my life, but not anymore. Well, he still is, in a manner of speaking. He’s like .. at the sidelines. Someone I still talk to but don’t.

Brief history: The Someone supposedly has TWO companies to his name. HE is the CEO, the President, the Founder .. whatever you want to call it. It’s his company. Thus, there is no reason for him to seek employment elsewhere, unless for kicks. And he is self-absorbed. We are all hoping that he just doesn’t know he’s condescending and obnoxious, but we really think he is.

I assume that people who read this are familiar with the etiquette of questions regarding someone else’s salary.

The Someone: Hey.

The Mom: Hey. ‘Sup?

The Someone: Does The Dad still work at a call center? Do you have his number? I need to ask him something.

The Mom (to self): This sounds fishy, but I’ll bite. We’re all adults here.

(to The Someone): Sure. It’s xxxx-xxxxxxx.

And then I didn’t think anything of it. Prolly some uninteresting and BORING thing.

Few days later ..

The Mom: Oh hey. The Someone asked for your number. So weird. What was it about?

The Dad: Oh yeah. He asked if I was still in a call center and I said “Yes.”

The Dad: He asked how much a Team Leader makes because he’s been offered a position in some company.

The Dad: So I told him it’s between (hypothetical number) 18-30k, depending on which company it is and how much years of experience you have under your belt.

The Mom: Oh, ok.

The Dad: And then he texted me this:

The Someone: Is that so? Because I got an offer from this company that wants to pay me 110k. Thanks, man.

Of course, days after Liverpool won the Champions League semis, The Someone texted me this:

The Someone: Hey, Mark. Send my love to everyone. And take care on the flight back home. Man, my team lost last night. Haha.

The Someone: Oops! Sorry mis-text.

YEAH-FUCKIN’-RIGHT. Mis-text my ass. That is such a lame excuse. I used that move in college buddy, I SO do not believe you. And no one, NO ONE that I was friends in college with ever followed football. Not even the EPL, so I HIGHLY doubt, that a cunt like that followed the Champions League. I mean, is he just defecating on the sanctity of my sport?! Everyone that I know know that I am a Liverpool supporter, through and through. This is no mere coincidence my friends. This a pathetic set-up. One that I have witnessed far too many times, FROM THE SAME FUCKING PERSON.

And at this juncture, I would like to rant in a dialect that’s more appropriate.

Putangina. Ang yabang ng hayop! Bakit ka magtatanong ng ganoong klaseng tanong, diba?! Hello?! Wala lang?! Para lang malaman ng ibang tao na ganito at ganito ang binabayad sa iyo? Hello?! Wala kaming pakialam noh! Matagal na kaming walang pakialam kasi you lead a very sad and pathetic excuse for a life! Dati wala kaming sinasabi kasi naaawa lang kami sa iyo, thinking that you were the “victim” of that whole debacle pero hindi! Sinisiraan mo lang ang iyong sarili! Leche ka! Putangina ka! Magkaroon ka naman ng dignidad! Mayaman ka nga, hindi ka naman makabili ng decency! Alam mo ano? Dinuduraan ko ang iyong pera. Tangena. Ang yabang mo. Sana mamatay ka na mag-isa kasi wala namang lumabas sa iyong bibig kundi tungkol lang sa sarili mo. Pwede ba ha. Mahiya-hiya ka naman kasi kami nahihiya na para sa iyo. Get a fucking life, you fucking loser.

Aha.

Your results:
You are Dark Phoenix






Dark Phoenix 68% Mystique 67% Venom 66% Catwoman 64% Lex Luthor 63% Juggernaut 63% Dr. Doom 61% Magneto 59% Apocalypse 59% The Joker 55% Poison Ivy 52% Green Goblin 51% Two-Face 51% Kingpin 49% Mr. Freeze 47% Riddler 44%

A prime example of emotional extremes: Passion and fury incarnate.


Click here to take the Supervillain Personality Quiz


From Tfy

*swoon*

Oh, Logan Eckles. Let me count the ways I love you so ..

Screen caps from Veronica Mars, Season3 Episode20

Seriously, would you say no to someone who says:

“My day is complete. Veronica Mars has accused me of evil.”

To sister: “But if you’re coming home, who will play Dead Hooker #2 on CSI this week?”

“[Veronica asks if he has spoken to Dick] Yeah, but it was brief – shouted his name, flipped me off: the bonds of friendship.”

Killer line:

“I can’t take that I hurt you when all I want to do is protect you.”

 

BAM!

 

I seem to have misplaced my underwear.

Kthnxbye.

The giants/obvious favorites dominate this year

and

 

This wasn’t a good year for the underdogs.

Boo.

 

uneditedmara status now: Bitter. >:e

“Mother” down, 36 to go.

It’s come to my attention that even though I did not have a “rockin’ hot bod” pre-Izzy, I never paid too much notice to my bulges and wrinkling and anything else that was going on. Of course I would FREAK with the occasional Zit of Death that appears perfectly in the middle of your forehead or bemoan my ass stretchmarks but that was about it. I didn’t go to the gym or anything. I’m way to lazy for that. Even the thought of yoga and Pilates gets me sleepy because I am forever assuming that it’s got something to do with relaxing and calming and that TOTALLY equates to sleep. (Of course I don’t really think that. A disclaimer for all you gym rats out there. Please do not beat me with your yoga mats.)

But recently, I have found myself more fruck out than the usual. I’ve had a little more sprinkling of the crazy dust, post-Izzy. Of course it hasn’t helped that everytime I look in the mirror, there would be lava-flow-like streaks running the length of my abdomen. And, God help us all, I am thinking of infusing color *gasp* and femininity *double gasp* into my wardrobe. I’m not saying I’m going to be gay .. but .. expect a little more flair, is all. Weeks ago I was just depressed at the fact that I wanted heels. HEELS, FFS. What the hell, right? I mean, me? uneditedmara? Heels? Surely this is not some devious plot to Punk’d (?) us all? Sad but true. My jeans and shirts will just have to be content sharing closet space with Ms. Espadrille Wedge and Ms. Bubblegum Hoodie dress. I am rolling my eyes at myself as we speak. But it got me to thinking why I suddenly had the urge to (seriously) go to the gym and rethink my wardrobe. It never bothered me before, why now?

Go with me on this one. Maybe it’s because now that I’ve done my .. womanly function .. it seems that I’m pissed at the fact that I have been labeled. MOTHER. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I deeply respect the women who do this day in and day out. But I am selfish, as you all know. And that one label is not me. I would hate for people to think that. All of my life, I’ve tried to emulate what kind of person I am/want to be and “Mother” is just one in the list. I’m on a campaign, nay, a mission, to break stereotypes and cliche in the book. But this isn’t for some political/moral/sociological issue, it’s simply because I am too selfish to just have one name tag.

You know that saying, “I can be whoever I want to be.”? Well, I got that speech maybe about a million times in the short span of time that I’ve been on Earth and I still believe that. I sorta lost that belief the moment I knew I was .. with child .. just because I was so narrow-minded that if I do this one thing, I will have erased everything I’ve done before it. Hell, I was a good and loyal friend. I wasn’t always sane, but I was there for my friends. And I tried everything at least once before passing judgment. And I was crazy and brash and wild. I peed into the wind and experimented with substances. Let me tell you, french fries dipped in Coke and then dipped in sundae is frickin’ awesome. But the point is, I did what I wanted to do and didn’t put much thought into it (much like my homework). And now I can’t. I have to grow up.

The Dad hates the fact that I think I have to give up some .. er .. frivolities and dreams just because of Izzy. But let’s face it, there’s really no way to go back to the way it was. Otherwise, I’d just keep going back to that awesome night where I got stinkin’ drunk and partied all night long. Of course that isn’t my dream but there are some dreams that we have to let go of. I have to grow up. If not for Izzy, then for all the idealists and optimists out there who think that they can have everything. You can’t. Some things have to be sacrificed. Just like in the movies. No, I’m not talking about an actual sacrifice. Just that .. you know in a movie when you know that someone has to die because it’s just how it is. I call the The Sacrifice. A good movie can’t be without one. The person doesn’t have to die or anything. They just have to be pwn3d or .. well .. die. Anyhoooo .. the point is, sacrifice. And I think the more labels you want to have, the more you have to sacrifice. And at this point, I am just bracing for what else I have to give up.

Fuck. Am I going emo? Because I told Righteously Insane that I wouldn’t come near the New Post button until I was sure that I was emo-free. Ah, fuck it.

So here I am. Quarter-life crisis-ed. Barefoot. Mommy. Not exactly the life I envisioned but hey, whaddaya gonna do.

So ..

.. see you next year then? Right.

*moves on with life*

An “Uh .. okaaay” moment

Brought to you by the American Airlines.

The Dad: You know what they should invent?

The Mom: (Wakes up. Looks around.) Huh .. whe .. what?

The Dad: They should make Kevlar Luggage.

The Mom: *blink* *blink*

The Dad: That would be a cool invention wouldn’t it?

The Mom: *blink* *blink*

The Dad: (Wide-eyed, looking at The Mom) Wouldn’t it?

The Mom: (to self) Dear God, must I humor him? At 8 in the fucking morning? Fine.

So you’re saying that next to world peace, you’d like Kevlar luggage.

The Dad: Yes.