So, my lawn measured 17 inches tall in some places on wednesday. The average height was closer to 10 inches, though. Either way, this was obviously getting out of hand, so I decided to cut it.

After having mowed it to the ground, I quickly cleaned up and went on with my life, like the normal kind of guy I try hard to pretend to almost be.

By the time friday rolled around I couldn’t help but notice that my grass was, once again, incredibly tall. My parents would be getting notice’s from the city before long. So I had to have some kind of explination.

The speed of growth went beyond the, I assumed, boundaries of nature.
For two days I struggled, saturday had been fruitless. Sunday, on the other hand, proved nearly disasterous. Not so much of another hand, I guess.

I had done everything I could think of, I tested the soil for growth hormones. I had read about those being injected into american food, and that had made many of those people grow insanely fast. No luck there. I checked to see if evolutionary scientists had any information about exceeding growth rates. No luck there, I just got a lecture about the earbone of a specific species of rat.

Among other things, I tried to develope a testing method to find out if a improbability drive was running under my lawn, or something. For this I used an electromagnetic field detector. That always seemed to work in the X-files.
To my suprise, I found a very large electromagnectic field.

To my greater suprise, it moo’d at me.
You would think that would’ve been a first hint, but due to a mild anxiety about my own sanity, I didn’t trust my own ears.

I brought out my handy ghost-busters detectomatic. Hadn’t used that since I was a kid, so I replaced the batteries and turned it on. My sanity was, for now, not in absolute danger. A herd of ghost cows were in my lawn.

A herd of ghost cows was in my lawn, and I was talking about my sanity not being in danger?
…Nevermind that, I moo’d at a few of them, trying to speak. They moo’d back, now I just needed to learn cow.

I was unlucky enough to see one of them excrete something, it was a glowing pile of ghost-cow dung. The grass around that spot grew up almost immediately. My next thought was about getting ghost-killing bullets, but I think those were outlawed when clinton was in office. Hillary wouldn’t have her kin slaughtered.

So what could I do about this? Well, I knew that ghosts were usually somehow attached to their bodies. I quickly got out my handy ghost-busters body-detector, and thanked myself for being such a nerd. Before I knew it I had found a body. Before I recognized I didn’t know it, I had found a dozen bodies.

By the end of the day, I had dug around long enough to have found, excavated, and removed countless cow corpses. My electromagnetic field detector had showed a decline in intensity for each body removed.

I wished I could drop all the bodies on the white house, but with all the corpses already in Washington I figured it would be redundant.

I stood on my deck, looking over my now cleansed lawn. I had dug the entire lawn up, just to make sure I didn’t miss any bodies. Didn’t want those cow-ghosts repopulating themselves. I certainly wouldn’t have to deal with the grass growing too fast anymore.

Pride was once a human inhibition, now it’s my natural inclination. But I deserve it, for being so awesome.
The funny thing is, Occam’s razor actually pointed at an improbability drive as the simpler answer…

I don’t want, to run or cry, but it seems that those would both be wise, if I wanted to, to no-o-ot die.

But apparantly, I’m lost in your might, and fear and panic both just fled on by.

Enemies, calling my name
Stupidity, I can’t push them away

Oh no,
Company, its just not the same, without you.

You make frisbee, and fu-un game, and your rain is the best shower I’ve had all day.

So I try my best to do whats right. And I always fight my best when you’re in sight.

What kind of idiot, writes a song
About a hurricane, and his doomed lawn
Well thats me.
I’m still certain that you love me, though, cause you always chase me, wherever I flee, oh

Went to denver, to get away, first hurricane, they had there they say.

Went to boston, didn’t get my way, ended up, in Miami bay, where you found me, and here we are.

I’m not so happy, about what you did to my car.
But those kinds of things, are forgivable, cause you’re my hurricane, and I feel horrible…now.

OW! My head, you ought to watch those beams, they could be painful, at tremendous speeds.
Oh. Oh. Hi God.

Memories we don’t forget,
A heart totally beset,
with kindness, and cordiality.
With thoughtfullness through casuality,
togetherness through duality,
forgiveness of brutality
lovelyness in reality,
friendliness with equality, and
greatness, in finality.

What use is knowledge, with no ambition,
What use is college, without a mission?
Your heart hungers for recognition, but
you do nothing, finding no opposition,
Your intuition leads you astray,
You’re having a lot of trouble, finding your way
An inhibition causes transition, to an opression
you can’t reposition, mostly due to your hearts bad
condition.

A paradox here, and Pandora’s box there,
Why do you even take time to care?
Your knowledge and thought, your experience,
all naught, for through your life and your words,
your strife is your lords, but you deny any corrolation,
and your conviction and addiction, and your lifes whole volition,
End up spiraling down to the harmful recognition that its all
A contradiction.

So obviously thought is futile, since it leads to nothing, naught.
No, I don’t get answers, only questions, many of those are wrought.
A concious mind, is a troublesome find, and may only be found by
those who are blind, to the mental opression we bask in all day,
to the social suggestions, we task ourselves away.

A tumult, a war, all the fight, all the gore,
quite the dangerous four, at a nations front door
A society slaughter, come hell or high water,
A spiritual blunder, breaking some asunder,
hide under your sautter, it wont get much hotter
Especially with him, for he saves all within.

“Get phantromine! ….Get Skinny!”
“You CAN afford breast implants!”
“Russian women DO make the best wives”
“Are you on your knee’s, waiting for the right moment?”
“Increase your sex drive today!”

…They even take the time to put them into that order for me, so that I got the whole message instantly without even opening any of it. They sure are sly dogs, them.

Then on the next page over (after momentarily marking the others as ‘spam’, because contrary to popular belief, I don’t WANNA be a woman), I find that instead, they’d like to sell me a wife.

“Wanting to buy a new truck? We’ll finance you!”
“Money burning a hole in your pocket? Invest now!”
“E-harmony, find a women that suits your manly desires!”
“Chinese women ready for you!”
“–> –> –> –> –> –> EnErGy –> !!!!!!!”

Isn’t this contrary to the last set of E-mails? When will they make up their mind! First I need to be a skinny voluptuous russian woman, now they want me to be a rich american man to take their slaves for a one time payment of my soul to the devil. Not gunna happen!

Oh, and then I get this one, out of the blue like a slap in the face.

“Worried about your weak, womenly appearance? Buff up today!”

Anyways, there is something seriously wrong with these spammers. Whats more interesting is that they all came from the same E-mail…”Ledegreepartners@Supernowhirring.net”.
I wish I could send them some E-mail back, from an account called “Serendipitousuprise@Fritterizer.com”, but I don’t think that many E-mail services would so much as consider accepting any messege from an E-mail like that.

Owell. It’s worth a shot, right? -.^

 A while back my eldest brother Nathan started showing many signs of psychological misdirection, to put it nicely. He even went as far as to post blogs about shooting poor innocent and quite fluffy animals with transquilizers for the sake of a sport, showed an unhealthy interest in outer space(A cold and ruthless living environment, in most scenario’s), and an insatiable appetite for strange unearthly poetry(However catchy and clever it may have been). We all saw these signs, but most failed to recognize the significance of them. Recently, though, he has publicly stated that if I didn’t post something on my “venerable” blog, he would resort to full-witted science and even walk barefooted in fields of razor blades.

This is of course a complete misconstruction of his actual attempt at the conveyance of a point, but thats what I do best, although its sad to say, because I could have gone a lot farther and funnier with this, so I feel bad that this is “what I do best”. Gah, humble beginnings, so they say.

Haha, yes, I actually said ‘humanity’ intentionally.
Anyways, I might get around to posting on here irregularly again, when I stop procrastinating over my plan to stop procrastinating.

Merry christmas, and as you all realize that YOU’RE AT MY HOUSE, you can thank me for my hospitality and forget to kill me for making you stay. =)

Should it be a poem? Should it be a book? Can I be a poet? Can I make my name?
I don’t know either, but you should look into it. Of course, if you don’t read you wouldn’t need to do so.

Lets see, I could write about writing, like I am at the moment. I could pour out my thoughts, until everyones loaded. Or I could simply sit down, place my hands on my keyboard. Hit a few keys and find out if I’m capable.

 Aj’nthan1337nmoaibthe5133khnnaahshraa

 That didn’t work so well, now did it. But hey look, suddenly I have a topic! Why would I write something like that?

Thats why you should look into it.

Everybody, I realize that this is less-then worth reading, so I’m going to say, what is?
Well, you could answer with a jumble of your favorite books, or maybe some poetic loserville depression. But instead, do me a favor, and take a notebook, and see what you can come up with. Then, when you have written your crazy thoughts down on said notebook, show it to me. This way I can answer with a jumble of my favorite books, or maybe some poetic loserville depression.

P.S. Meow(DONT ASK.).

RE:P.S. Yes, I did place a period on the inside of my parentheses.