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Thursday, July 15th, 2010
4:20 pm
Dear Livejournal,

You can delete my content when you pry it out of my cold, dead hands.

Fuck off and die,
Warren Meers

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Monday, October 30th, 2006
8:29 pm - Movin' Out
Like Billy Joel, bitches. But not like Twyla Tharp (that whore).

Anyway. I know, I know: you all read Tucker's big going away post of doom, and it was way fucking more touching, and you used up all your pretty words anyway. Whatever. I just got done emailing the fam and some dude from Craig'slist who owes me money for some stuff. Now it's your turn.

I'm moving.

Where are my fucking going away gifts?

And they better be sweet.

((OOC: Like Tucker, Warren is outie-5,000 TM. It's been a blast, but he's earned a ride off into the sunset. I'm still around in other incarnations, but big thanks to anyone Warren ever played with. And bigger thanks to his nearest and dearestes. You know who you are. Sex is an appropriate going away gift.))

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Monday, October 2nd, 2006
2:00 pm
I don't have any tattoos, because I'm Jew. Everybody got that memo, right? I mean, I'm not the Jewiest Jew that ever Jewed, but still. Hope you're all having a super sweet Yom Kippur, by the way. I know I am.

And the other issue, of course, is, like, what would I get a tattoo of, anyway? I honestly can't think of anything I wouldn't be over in a year. Because let's face it: there are a lot of lame tattoos out there. Lame, lame, lame tattoos. And my point is: I don't wanna be potato tattoo guy, okay?

Does anybody remember Wayside School? It was a kids book, or like, a couple of them and in one of them they did algebra, and I don't want to get all Beverly Cleary on anyone's ass (especially since the author was Louis Sachar, and Cleary shouldn't get credit, greedy bitch), but there was totally one kid who, I swear, got a tattoo of a potato on his ankle. In elementary school.

I don't want to be Asian tattoo guy either, because while they look cool, unless you speak it: how do you know what they're permanently writing on your body? Or if they can spell? Or if they fucked up? And I'm not into dragonssnakesfishes. Pin-up girls. Pin-up boys. Christian imagery. Tasmanian devils. My enemies names with lines through them. It all still comes down to: I don't wanna be potato tattoo guy.

Anyway I think Tucker has dibs.

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Monday, September 18th, 2006
1:14 am - Revenge.
Ah, revenge.

I used to live for that bitch. Literally. Well, you know, not, but... And, uh, not that, you know, that particular and lovely lady is anyone you know, unless: any takers? Takers? Out there? No. Right.

Anyway. I used to live for that bitch, and it's hard as hell when she's gone. There are still days when I don't know what to do with myself. Besides the masturbation. Oh, I kid, friendslist.

Being angry is, uh, really easy. You know? Not good; but easy. I mean, it feels good. You go around feeling...I dunno. I wanna say nothing, but it's more like: sad. Pathetic. Lonely. Which feels shitty, honestly. But anger: man. Righteous. Anger. You get a taste of that and it's all over. No going back. It's like: fuck; this is what feeling feels like. You feel strong and you feel invincible and you feel like it's right.

And then it runs out of steam.

And then you're fucked.

Hi, I'm Fucked. How you doin'?

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Wednesday, September 6th, 2006
12:42 am
Attention All Humans:

Please answer for these things.

Item: The cancellation of excellent tv shows with large cult followings and fan petitions to keep the show on the air.
Item: Novelizations of movies, tv shows, or comic books which go against established canon.
Item: Wrestling on the scifi channel.
Item: Breast reductions. For women.
Item: When the light at the end of the street is still red, and everybody can see it, and knows that's why they aren't going anywhere, and still some douche in the back on the line in an SUV lays on the horn for, like, a full fucking minute.
Item: The apparent need to race anything you can (see: Wiener dog races. Pig races. Gym class.)
Item: The inability to make low-fat or diet things taste as good.
Item: Skinny jeans.
Item: Moderately attractive people who are under the impression they are incredibly attractive people.
Item: Adult acne.
Item: Our fucking government.
Item: Fucking (because it's always a worthwhile topic for conversation).

And remember: if you don't have anything nice to say, direct it at someone you perceive as weaker than you are, or the boy you think is the cutest.

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Tuesday, August 29th, 2006
11:29 pm

Thank you "secret" livejournal "fairy". You do realize I had just moments before upgraded to a plus account? Irony. It's hilarious.

Thank you.

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10:54 pm - You Gotta Have Friends
Do I make friends easily?

Yes. Of course. Always have.

At first they stayed in their books and the TV, but eventually they moved into my head. And that satisfied for a little while, but then, you know, you always think: I could do it better if I was there. Or: I could do it better if I was there...and better. Faster. Stronger. And then of course you need a girlfriend.

It's starts to get complex, so you write it down to keep it all straight. Or I do. I did. I wrote it down. Maybe, just maybe, I'm still writing it down. Typing it down. Throwing it up on a message board and declaring it canon. Maybe.

That makes them more real, but not physical. Most people can't make those kinds of things physical. I can. I can do that with wires. I can make silicon into skin. I can make it breathe and talk. And love, except, you know, not really.

Not ever really. But it isn't hard, or anything.

So do I make friends easily?

Yes. Of course. Always have.

Do I make real friends easily?

No. That's different.

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Tuesday, August 8th, 2006
9:42 pm - OOC
Away until Wed. the 17th. Wheeee!

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Friday, August 4th, 2006
11:06 pm

You know what? I don't care. Show me all the evidence you want: I don't believe in ghosts. Zombies. Vampires. Werewolves. Demons. Sure. Fine. Bring them on. Party time.

Ghosts I'm not buying.

It just seems too easy. Like the answer is right there: what happens when you die. There's a yes. There's a no. There's no need to be afraid.

But we're still afraid. So what's that about, huh? Like they know, but they aren't talking? That's their prerogative, but what: no one's forced them to talk? You'd think we'd have that power by now. Hold them by their...ghost-nads or whatever.

Plus: what losers, right? I mean: you're dead. Get something better to do. Hang out in the women's locker room. Why doesn't anyone haunt the women's locker room? ...Or the men's locker room? Because that's what I'd do. Not that I have plans.

Anyway. Ghosts: no. I don't care what anybody says. Not even them.

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Monday, July 31st, 2006
9:54 pm - This Cordelia Is No More. It Is An Ex-Cordelia.
If Tucker says it, then it's true. So Warren's keeping his mouth shut. That's IC, for him, right? What people would expect? He's afraid if he tries to play along; makes a big deal out of it, people will be able to tell it's fake. Afraid isn't the right word. He isn't a great liar.

It pisses him off a little that no one questions his lack of emotion about the whole thing. He went to school with Cordy. She's on his flist. He's insinuated that seeing her naked and/or fucking her would be okay with him on numerous occasions (though, not that it would be anything more than a fling, don't get him wrong. She is a chick, with chick parts).

So Warren's keeping his mouth shut. Tucker's keeping his mouth shut. Cordelia Chase sure as hell is keeping her mouth shut.

All in all: it's quiet.

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Friday, July 28th, 2006
1:02 pm - Super...ZEROES

Yeah, well. You knew I was going to talk about it. Because I was looking forward to this show. I was kinda seeing Top Model with dudes and capes.

Let me tell you how disappointed I am.

...Collapse )

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Thursday, July 27th, 2006
1:39 am - Inherit
I don't feel like talking about my dad again.

But I will say this: we all like to feel special (and I am, believe me. And not in the retard way). We like to feel like...I dunno singular...lone wolves. Special.

And I mean we really aren't.

We are, but like they say: there's only so many plots floating around out there where ever. And you can only do so many things because choices aren't really infinite and, long story short: odds are somebody's done it before. That's not to say "better". Just: done. There's no more firsts.

So yeah: I recognize. I raise my glass to the guys who came before me who loved and lost and got a little "crazy". To the ones who were too smart for their own good. To the geeks. And the nerds. The Saturday morning cartoons. The kids from broken homes. The Fans with a capital 'F'. The guys in tights and capes. The cliches. The computer programmers. The engineers. The queers. And also: the magician was there.

I toast them all. Thanks, you guys. You didn't pave the way, exactly, but there's some of you in me. I'm not gonna pretend there isn't. I've never been ashamed of where I came from.

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Wednesday, July 26th, 2006
10:10 am


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Wednesday, July 12th, 2006
1:40 am
So I guess there were tornados or something? In Ipswich or whatever? I dunno, I was too busy looking at this:Collapse )

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Saturday, July 8th, 2006
2:21 am - Lamez Excuzesss?
Oh my god. Oh my fucking... No fucking... I can't...

Can't stop.

Laughing. Laughing too hard. Laughing. Ooooooooooh my god. My-...





"I did it because..."

Hee hee hee.

"I did it for love." It was all for love. Totally all, everything, it was love. So that thing? Love. That girl? Love. That stuff love. Sorry for the death but I'm in love! That's fucking... So funny... BUT IT EXPLAINS... IT IS FOR EXPLAIN ALL.

Oh my god.

Buffy Summers? Sorry bitch but I love you! Totally it was because I love you. Will you... Hey! Will you go to the prom with me? Oh fuck I love you. I love you all. My god. My fucking...MY JEWISH GOD, YOU GUYS. My Jew God.

You guys.

You guys.

You guys.


I am so fucking drunk right now.

So fucking...you guys. I gay love yuo.

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Wednesday, July 5th, 2006
2:44 pm - No Explain-y
Frying bear:

Fine, and sometimes bear:

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Saturday, July 1st, 2006
7:43 pm

If you don't remember something anymore, at what point does it become like it never happened?

This isn't a rhetorical question; I want honest opinions and personal experience. If there was once one thing that totally defined you, if you get over it, are you still you? If there was a person that was your world, and then they were gone, what's the point of anything anymore? If you find someone new, does the world change? No, obviously it doesn't, that's retarded, but you change. How long does it take before you don't recognize you anymore? Is it scary?


Do I sound like a moron?

A little.

Is this stuff I wonder?


Do I wanna know what you think?

For once: yes.

Under usual circumstances: no, and shut up, but specifically on this... On, like, whatever I typed up there (you read it; honestly I'm a little over it already), you know: what do you think?

Please answer in 150-250 words or more by next Friday.

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Friday, June 23rd, 2006
12:12 am - Meme: Questions I didn't feel like answering omitted.
2. When is the next time you will have sex?
Give me a sec.

3. What's a word that rhymes with "DOOR"?

4. Favorite planet?

5. Who is the last person on your missed call list on your mobile?

6. What is your favorite ring on your phone?

7. What kinda shirt you have on?
The button down kinda.

8. What do you "label" yourself?

9. Name the brand of shoes you're currently wearing?

10. Bright or dark room?
Am I naked?

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
I don't give her much thought. I hate all women, obviously. Didn't you get the memo?

12. If you're alone in a room with two beds, which one do you sleep on?
The bigger one.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Surfing the web.

14. What did your last text message say that you received on your mobile?

15. Where is your letter box?
The lobby.

16. What's a word that you say a lot?

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?

18. Last furry thing you touched?

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?

20. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed?

21. Favorite age you have been so far?

22. Your worst enemy?
Colbert. I told you, 'ho.

23. What is your current desktop picture?
Polar bear.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly, which would you take?
Fly. Steal the money. With flight! This is the right answer.

26. Do you like someone?
No. I don't like anyone.

28. If the last person you spoke to was getting shot at, would you jump in front of the bullet?
Can I still fly?

29. If you could punch one person in the face who would it be?
I answered this already, but with fish.

30. What is the closest object to your left foot?
My ass.

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Monday, June 19th, 2006
9:21 pm
Did you ever have something you could count on feeling a certain way about, and then it's like there, and you can't bring yourself to feel anything?

It's pretty fucking unsettling.

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Saturday, June 17th, 2006
11:53 pm
Your Favorite Retreat: My Mind Available; Weekend And Vacation Packages Starting At Exorbitantly Low Rates, On To Which Secret Fees Will Then Be Attached, Making It A Far Poorer Deal Than It Originally Seemed, And, Also, It Might Possibly Rain, I Make No Promises. And Also The Tickets Are Non-Refundable. And Also There Will Be No In-flight Meal. And Also The Flight Attendants Will Probably Be Unpleasant Or Non-Existent. No Outside Food Or Drink Allowed. And Also It Is Inside My Head, A Place Where I Am Good Looking And Very, Very Tall, At least Six Foot, And Thin, And Far Far More Charming And Up Is Down And Black Is White And Cats And Dogs Living Together! And You Must Call Me Master And Do As I Say. And Only I May Be Drunk. And There Will Be No Music. And I Am Solely In Charge Of Activities And You Are Probably Not Invited To Them. And Also There Are Wolves. And This Is A Scam.

Book now.

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