Tired of those same old 55 questions about me surveys? Well here are 55 I guarantee you've never answered...have fun...:)

1. Is your second toe longer than your first?
No. But thanks for the concern about my potential deformity.

2. Do you have a favorite type of pen?
Cheap ones. I like to not feel bad that I've lost so many thousands of them when it only amounts to like a buck fifty.

3. Look at your planner for March 14, what are you doing?
I will be in class. Or out slaying my enemies with Frank.

4. What color are your toenails usually?
Toenail colored. Though they've been getting a little yellower of late...

5. What was the last thing you highlighted?
The words of a madman.

6. What color are your bedroom curtains?
Curtains are for sissies, communists. Which are you? Huh?

7. What color are the seats in your car?
I have no car. And if I did it would be upholstered with the hides of those I had slain and stuffed with their hair and powdered bones. But I don't have a car so it's something of a moot point.

8. Have you ever had a black and white cat?
No. I don't have sex with animals. Sicko.

9. What is the last thing you put a stamp on?
I don't stamp things. I brand them.

10. Do you know anyone who lives in Wyoming?
Yes. I do. And their identities will remain secret for their safety as well as my own.

11. Why did you withdraw cash from the ATM the last time?
To pay for things. Duh.

12. Who is the last baby that you held?
Uh... probably my nephew. Unless you count eating as holding and then I don't name my food.

13. Do you know of any twins with rhyming names?
No. And if I did I would slay their parents and then put them out of their misery.

14. Do you like Cinnamon toothpaste?
For what purpose? Eating? Tooth cleaning? Spitting into the eyes of those who defie my dark will? Cause those are all very different answers.

15. What kind of car were you driving 2 years ago?
We've been over this. I have no car. And I would thank you to not point out my vehicular inadequacies.

16. Pick one: Miami Hurricanes or Florida Gators
Well hurricanes cause a lot more property damage and will ultimately cause a lot more death then a single or even large group of Gators. However Gators are one of the most beautifully effecient death makers in the biological world. And taken into account that Alligators are effectively living dinosaurs they can trace back their linages to ancient times if could be supposed that they were able to cause much more overall destruction than a single Hurricane or even a small number of Hurricanes so my vote goes to the Gators.

17. Last time you went to Six Flags?
The only Six Flags I ever cared about are the six flags I made out of the six minions that failed me.

18. Do you have any wallpaper in your house?
No, and don't you forget it.

19. Closest thing to you that is yellow:
Probably some sort of phlegm or bile, cause you can't get closer than inside.

20. Last person to give you a business card?
My dear lesbain friend's mother.

21. Who is the last person you wrote a check to?
My finances are the business of myself and the accountant I carve them into.

22. Closest framed picture to you?
Oh. I'll show you a framed picture. Right in the face!

23. Last time you had someone cook for you?
The soulless drones working in the university cafeteria grant me a nutrient wad twice a day.

24. Have you ever applied for welfare?
I refer you to my answer for question 21 and know that if these questions of a monitary nature continue I may begin the search for a accountant...

25. How many emails do you have?
A number greater than the number of suns we orbit but less then the great and terrible wars that have been plotted in the darkest parts of my meat brain.

26. Last time you received flowers?
People don't give me flowers. I think they fear that if I were exposed to something bright, pleasant, and pretty then some sort of matter-antimatter reaction would occur that would tear the world asunder and cause all else to cease to be. So thank you for pushing me further into the delusional state that protects me from the fact that I'm just one really scary fucker.

27. Do you think the sanctity of marriage is meant for only a man & woman?
Marriage don't mean shit. If two people live together and they call themselves married who the fuck cares? "But... but... Jesus said..." Hey asshole! If marriage was so sacred then why the fuck wasn't Jesus married? Or if he was then why isn't it clear? Huh? Tell me that! Bitch.

29. Do you play air guitar?
I play all manner of air instruments.

30. Do you take anything in your coffee?
Usually the blood of mine enemies with just a little bit of whiskey.

31. Do you have any Willow Tree figurines?
The only figurines I own are crafted from the bones and cured organs of those that stood in my way.

32. What was your high school's rival mascot?
The Fighting I Don't Fucking Cares

33. Last person you spoke to from high school?
That one guy.

34. Last time you used hand sanitizer?
I support a strong immune system and as that I want to test it regularly. So no. And I hope you die.

35. Would you like to learn to play the drums?
If I can craft them from human remains, then yes.

36. What color are the blinds in your living room?
The same color as those six flags I spoke of earlier.

37. What is in your inbox at work?
Oh! So now you want to mock my joblessness! Oh... There will be words spoken. With knives.

38. Last thing you read in the newspaper?
Something about married women becoming the minority. It made me very happy.

39. What was the last pageant you attended?
I have never been to one and am opposed to their continued existance. My brother was forced to sing in one by his choir teacher and I nearly beat the shit out of him.

40. What is the last place you bought pizza from?
I don't buy pizza. Cause I don't have money. Oh... I get it now. This is just another clever way of pointing out the fact I don't have a job. Oh... It's on now!

41. Have you ever worn a crown?
When I sat upon my Throne of Bone I was granted a crown of black iron inlaid with the polished fingerbones of the most powerful persons who ever stood before my black horde. But all that was lost once the Duchy of God-Awful-Cliches allied with the Habadasher's Guild and overthrew my black empire from the inside.

42. What is the last thing you stapled?
A piece of paper.

43. Did you ever drink clear Pepsi?
Yes, like the foolish child that I was.

44. Are you ticklish?
Not really. Though I might be. None have the courage to find out.

45. Last time you saw fireworks?
When I burned down that old folks home.

46. Last time you had a Krispy Kreme doughnut?
When I had one special commissioned to be made from dough that used the bones and blood of mine enemies as a filling. Damn that was tasty.

47. Who is the last person that left you a message?
Hmm. Like on the phone? On on the myspace? Cause regardless I'm pretty sure that is was some dud who looked like a pirate.

48. Last time you parked under a carport?
So, one of these questions... How about you ask me about the last time I hung a man using his own bowels as rope?

49. Do you have a black dog?
Sweet Shiva on a pogo stick, don't you listen! I said I don't have sex with animals. You sick freak.

50. Do you have any pickles in your fridge?
I have no fridge. If by "fridge" you mean the void induced cold brought about by the gaping hole where my soul should be that I use to keep my food from rotting, then it's next to the mustard.

51. Are you an aunt or uncle?
No. My brothers are too young to have children and if they did, I'd beat them with a sack of oranges.

52. Who has the prettiest eyes that you know of?
If ever there was a trapped question it was this one. I refuse to divulge an answer. And besides beauty is in the eye of the beholder and if you speak of the beauty of an eye you are wondering dangerously close to paradox and frankly I like my time/space as continuum as possible thank you very much.

53. Last time you saw a semi truck?
When that truck came to clean up the bodies.

54. Do you remember Ugly Kid Joe?
No, but I figure that he should be feared and hated. As are all ugly people. Cause fear is a lot like love only without the good part.

55. Do you have a little black dress?
Well I don't have a little black dress. Cause nothing I own could be called "little". I have a big black skirt.

No Shirt, No Shoes, No Point

Well I don't know whether it's the holiday season or the severe lack of neurochemicals brought about by the lack of sunlight, but at this time of year I always start turning my diseased mind to the subject of love. Though this turning is never of my own will. It's like the various emotional components of my broken brain all decide to obsess over whatever will inflict the most agony on my concious mind. It won't let me do anything half-way. If I let myself begin to feel the slightest affection toward a ladyperson despite what I do it will begin to grow out of control. And the more I try to let it go the more it rises to spite me. Love is like a flowing river that carrys you where it will. It drives forward and merges with other rivers and goes from the lazy joy of the slow languid gatherings to the rough ride of the rapids. When love is the only variable gently going with the flow is possible, but at times great and terrible beasts swim just beneath the surface. Things born in madness and suckled at pain's withered teet. Creatures that draw the pure waters in and leave them a burning sticky corruption. Monsters that can be fought, can be killed, but even in death they poisin the water with thier blood and bile. When you are too weary to fight and can now longer stand the sour taste of the water you try to leave. For a time you can sustain yourself; living on cold will and the bitter wine of empty lusts. But the wine sours in time, and you can only drink so much sand. You are driven back to the shores diving into the water and swimming tell the current claims you. If you are of stronger will, or more potent lust, you awaken half-drowning as you realize the fates have brought you back to the river you fled. You fight and drown and tumble through the water until you can't stand it anymore. You scream and claw at the bloodied water and pray to the uncaring gods that your hands can grasp the sharp stones and drag yourself back to shore. You weep and bleed into the sand because you know you will return. You cannot escape for long, but there's always room for hope.

Sometimes I just gotta write

I seem to be in these moods from time to time. When my mind is much to heavy with thoughts. When even though I don't have anything to say, or anything I want to say for fear of it changing and making me a liar I just have to write. I have to let something pour out of me. Something needs to be said. (Huh with a spelling error I just realized that Dias is said backwards. Funny) But what is that something? What is it that my brain screams? It is somewhat terrible to think that I don't always know. Dealing with my mind is like standing on the edge of a calm lake. But the water is not clear. It is a miasma of wonders and terrors, and though it is my own and I trust that which rises from it, there are terrible things that live in that lake. Things that blur the lines of angel and demon. Things bound by silken bands. Things locked in iron cages. Things forged of nightmares and half forgotten memories. Things that burn with Chaos great and terrible light. Thing that would unmake the world. Things that would crack the bones of the earth for a taste of their sweet marrow. But beneath these horrors lie what fills me with more fear than anything else that wanders the watery reaches. It is the delicate innocence of a child. It is a genuine caring. It is a desperate wanting to serve a willing master. It is the part of me that I'm willing to protect. The part that is shielded by the lake and all the terrors that live in it.

This is a surprisingly personal entry. In fact I'm tempted not to put it up at all. But I've written it and once I've put words to paper I'm willing to let them free.

New And Very Very Angry Poetry

-Rubies-
Shards of glass extend from my flesh.
Dusty crystal grinds against the bone.
Blood oozes across the once cold matrial now heated by my quivering fist.
Light dances across the rough rubies growing from my hand.
Pain archs across my nerves, soothing the furious fragment of my diseased mind.
Madness brewing a tonic of rage and despair to smother the tiny young warmth growing in my chest.
Huh, I must be in love again.

-"Man Like You"-
Her words gouge into my chest
"A man like you"
Like a bone violin strung with my heart I hear her finished thoughts in the echoes
"Only Better"
"Only cuter"
"Only more handsome"
"Only smarter"
"Only not too smart"
"Only more maliable"
"Only edgier"
"Only more dominant"
"Only taller"
"Only not too tall"
"Only more loving"
"Only more aggresive"
"Only not too aggresive"
"Only richer"
"Only genetically superior"
"Only different"
"Because you're not good enough"

What I Learned This Summer

Once school ended I spent the first month reading and deeply studying a book called Sacred Contracts by Carroline Myss. It was a profound experiance for me, and because of how profound it was I don't want to talk about it. At least not in the public eye. Once I had finished this book I got a job at Larry H. Miller Cheverolet. This job taught me a few things. The first of which is that I HATE rich people. I mean I have contemplated burning Sandy and Murray to the ground almost as often as I have checked my email this summer. Let me jump back a bit. I worked as the "Courtesy Shuttle Driver". Which means that when people dropped off thier cars to be fixed in the service department I was the one that had to drive them home. I would regularly spend 45 minutes to an hour driving these "people" to thier massive mansions all the time listening to thier inane drivel and retarded attempts at small talk only to be rewarded by a weak willed handshake and a thank you that really said "Isn't it great that I let you touch me". No bitch, it isn't. Just give me some money and get the fuck out of my van. I need to get back and wash some cars. Which leads me to the next thing that I hate; Corvets. I know what some of you are thinking (and by some I mean the one twelve year old boy in Logan that stumbled across this page while looking for nipple slip pictures in random girls myspaces) "But Corvets are awesome and fill people with joy because of thier beauty and speed lol." And those two things are in fact true. However these vehicles are designed to seat the average teenage girl and are only bought by men that could be her grandfather. Getting into a corvet is sort of like being birthed in reverse by a squirrel. Not pleasent. And being inside of them is similar. Not pleasent. That slick windshield that goes with the smooth lines of the car also means that behind the wheel you can't see shit and at the speeds you are capable of you are a danger to not only yourself but also to everyone within three feet of you. Now that that bloodclot in waiting is finished here's something else that pissed me off. Teeny tiny women inside gigantic trucks. I mean I can sort of forgive the Tahoe/Suburban thing. I mean they're the gas-guzzling down syndrome baby of the station wagon; so of course the sub-urbanites would want them. Who cares that they are the aborted baby of the motor vehicle industry and it's rough romp in the hay with consumer america? They're shiny. But I digress. The only reason someone should have a gigantic truck is if they are going to use it. Not so that they can have a show piece to flaunt in front of the neighbors. "Why hello Martha! Have you seen my Truck of Babel? It cosumes more fuel than it would take to burn a city to the ground. I only use it to pick the kids up from soccer and to go to the grocery store but anything more would scuff the paint, and having a shiny affront to God is really important to us as Christians." Trucks are supposed to be beat up cause that means they are being used to haul things, and you know DO WHAT THEY WERE DESIGNED FOR! Or something.

On a new topic another thing I learned is that I can be one charming bastard. I mean I can't really tell the stories on the intertron cause I don't want to but damn, I'm a charmer if I choose to be.

You are a Social Liberal (73% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (11% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few. But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky. Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

You Are Barney

You could have been an intellectual leader... Instead, your whole life is an homage to beer You will be remembered for: your beautiful singing voice and your burps Your life philosophy: "There's nothing like beer to give you that inflated sense of self-esteem."

The Simpsons Personality Test