Thursday, April 29, 2010

Bloggin' About My Mom

She makes really good chocolate cake. So good it must be captalized. Chocolate Cake.

She suffers us and says that she "am not doing it for the good of my health!*"

She makes quilts.

She is awesome.

Enough about her.


Sickness. It sickens me. I detest it. But it must love me due to the frequency with which it visits and the duration that it stays. Blast you sickness. Blast you. On a side note, certain sicknesses like Pneumonia have pros that outway the cons (depending on your standing on the topic of symptoms). No school. No throwing up. VS Fever. Cough. Small chance of death. No brainer.


A thought has struck my conscience at great velocity, provoking minor pain and major thought. This thought is on the topic of career choice. Do some people wake up one day and think "Hey. I would love to be a crafter of cheap notebooks†!"
Are you sure there is not some man with a gun/knife/bomb/syringe/intoxicating drug/snake behind you, forcing you to become a crafter of notebooks† (cheap notebooks) due to some odd sense of revenge/justice (often the same thing)?


I like books...These tomes of knowledge (useful or otherwise) can be wasters of time, bestowers of knowledge (aaagh. Word repetition), and detachers of retinas. Books filled with awesomly cool people like Grand Admiral Thrawn. Truly. Epic.

Also epic...
And This


This is Nathanael, signing out.
Oh wait...
Thats the way of the pagans.
Ta ta.
New Skill.


†Tire/Desk/Chair/Fertilizer Bags/Zippers/Etc.

P.S. I want to hear teh funny joke 0.0

P.P.S. Go Abe Go! Have a garlic stick on me.

P.P.P.S. I did send you my picture!

[Note that this has been found written in the blogger's will due to his unfortunate and untimely death, Mike.]

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