the Ninja Gaiden Flying Leap of Death
The Ninja Gaiden Flying Leap of Death is a move only to be used in desperate times. The NGFLOD will cause the target to be depleted of all life force, while possibly spending all of the user's as well. Major bodily harm will be inflicted to both the target and the user. There is a 99% chance the target will perish (only a 65% chance if target has any ninja training), while the user of the NGFLOD has a 77% chance of receiving major trauma during the maneuver, with a 23% chance of expiring themselves. This move only used if facing an impossible situation because it could ultimately result in both the target and the targeter's demise. Despite the chances for death, the target will receive major bodily harm.
It my particular setting it would consist of me throwing my books down in a truly distracting clatter. I would have to step up and on to the person's desk to my left. With a piercing, loud gutteral, cry consisting of something that sounds distinctly Japanese, I would propel myself into the air at OSL, all the while gripping my pen (the chosen weapon) in both hands. As I launch, I would raise both hands up above my head. With forces and inertia behind me, I would bring the pen down in a huge tomahawking motion, jamming my pen deep into the skull of OSL. My flight path would cause me to crash down amongst the desks, most likely breaking all of my ribs and possibly my spine.
That is the Ninja Gaiden Flying Leap of Death.
BANSAI!!!!!!!
Older Smoking Lady
This is a direct quote of what I deal with daily. We were talking about the verb
ser in class. One example was the spanish translation of "I think therefore I am."
OSL looks up and says in her incredibly loud voice "Oh yeah, that's from an old rock and roll song."
It took all of my self control not to do a Ninja Gaiden Flying Leap Of Death on her hippy ass.
ARGH!!
Appearantly, I didn't get the memo
that it was "National Try and Wreck Rusty Week."
It's been that bad. It seems like everyone who is driving is out to make me crash. The woman last night from Colorado who decided not to look in her rearview mirror nearly cost me my life twice in the span of about 45 seconds because this "I'm gonna change laneNOI'MNOT" shit isn't getting it done.
The person today on the cell phone who decided to turn at the fourway stop after starting straight and never putting on a blinker, nearly received the Wrath of Rusty. The jackass had the audacity to look at me like it was my fault I couldn't read his mind that he was going to turn.
Then we had the old guy who never looked right. He just went ahead and drove his F-150 through the intersection after only looking left. After all, "if there's nothing coming from the left, there won't be anything coming from the right."
My god. It will be amazing if I live through this week.
This crap has got to stop
Apparently, I'm so conditioned to gettting up at 8:45 everyday to go to my classes, that my body thinks that it can get up at 8:45 even when we really don't have to. I went to bed around 3 a.m. last night, not too bad for a Friday night. I thought that there wasn't any football I really wanted to watch today, so I could sleep in because it was Saturday.
Boy was I wrong.
I heard my alarm go off so I shut it the hell off. A few minutes later, BOOM and I'm up for the for the duration I suppose. Oh well, what can you do?
Memories
It's amazing how some things can stay with you. I got home from classes today and turned on ESPN. On ESPN, they were showing the 1992 NFC championship game between Dallas and San Fran. Granted it was edited but for the most part they showed the whole thing. Watching that game, I can remember almost everything about that day. I know that it was a cloudy, gloomy, Sunday afternoon here while it was a mess in San Fran.
It was a battle of two titans on San Fran's home field. On the pregame show, there was lots of talk about how awful the field conditions were. I remember how much talk, how much press there was about the field conditions as it seemed to have been raining in San Fran for about a week. First of all, Candlestick Park wasn't the best field anyways. It was a guaranteed mudhole now, with the sports media making a gigantic deal about how much new turf they had brought in to try to repair the quagmire like conditions.
Dad and I were nervous before the game ever started. He had told me that "this probably wasn't the year as San Fran was just too good." Of course, being the optimist I am, I told him to shove it as we were going to win. The kicker was that we had to watch the game in my sister's room. Mom and Mindy wanted to watch a movie out in the living room where the VCR was. Dad and I obliged so I laid on Mindy's bed and Dad laid on the floor.
Watching that game on ESPN evoked all kinds of memories for me. I think I lived and died with every down during the game as I wanted nothing more than to watch my Cowboys advance to the Super Bowl. I remember gripping the pillow with every tense moment. But to see the Cowboys advance with a 30-20 win was incredible because I don't think Dad and I had missed a game all season. It was a great game.
And yes, I am a goober for living for my sports.
One more letter
Dear God,
Please do me a favor and kill me. I can no longer handle Older Smoking Lady in Spanish. She is slowly killing the rest of us. Thanks to her photocopying of pages out of the book, then highlighting them, we now have daily assignments which count for points. Today, Lord, we tried to count to 100 in class. The rule was that if we screwed up, we started over. Guess how many times we got to 100? That's right All Knowing, none. She screwed it up almost everytime. Please Lord, I can't handle it so take my life. Spare me this daily agony of this woman who in mid life is trying to become a political social worker. I don't care how you do it, elctrocution, heart attack, brain blow-out, drowing, just end my life, PLEASE.
That or melt her with the firery rage of 1000 suns.
Git-R-Dun,
Rusty
More letters
Dear Older Smoking Lady,
Would you do us all a favor and shut the F*&# up? Today, when Jimmy was asking ROB the question, you kept on blabbing away even though your name is not ROB! Since I am a part time suscriber to the theory of intelluctial osmosis, I beleive that everytime you open your mouth, you make us more stupid because some of our intellect diffuses to balance yours out. Please cut your own tongue out.
Getting dummer in spanish,
Rustee
Dear Black Ranger driving female
Hang up the phone before you kill someone. It's called cruise control. I really don't have any road rage, but I will come back to haunt your ass if you kill me because of your inattentive driving you worthless cell phone hooker.
About to become a fireball,
Rusty
Dear Wichita Collegiate Schools
I still fucking hate you. I hope you rich bastards burn. Git-r-dun.
rj
Dear All High School Football players
This isn't the NFL. There is no point in standing over someone after you've made a tackle on defense. It's your freaking role to make that tackle.
Coach Rusty
Dear Self
Hey dumbass, next time someone says "Do you drink on the job?" don't say yes and take the beer even though it tasted really really really really really good.
rusty
Dear Mother Nature.
This 95 degree shit just ain't getting it done. Last time I checked, it was september and september was supposed to cool off. When I saw the fire hydrant chasing a dog, I was led to believe that it was WAY too damn warm outside for the greater good of mankind.
Sweating profusely
RW
Dear Mosquitoes
I hope all you little biting bastards die of West Nile yourselves. It's September and you little blood suckers haven't died off yet. WTF? Hurry up and get dead.
rjay.
Sign me the F&*# up
Okay, I should be getting paid to be an offensive coordinator for Bethel.
Bethel College is the school where the stud cousins go to play volleyball. My summer softball team was also compose of about 75% Bethel football players, so being they loyal friend I am, I try to attend the games.
Last week, we watched Bethel blow a 21-point lead. Coming out of the half, BC held a 37-23 lead. Now, Phillip is the running back and he had a monster first half with 195 yards and four touchdowns. Conventional thinking says, you run the ball, manage the clock, take a few shots if allowed and win. What did the head coach do? He took a stupid pill and began to THROW with the backup QB. Now, throwing the ball only can lead to harm with a two touchdown lead. Your ally in the game is the clock, but instead of correctly managing the clock, he throws which essentially stops the clock on any incomplete pass and Southwestern beats BC 43-37. Okay, I thought, he screwed up. There is no way he can bonehead it two weeks in a row right?
Wrong.
Tonight BC traveled on the road. With 2:05 left in the game, BC was leading 24-21. They were facing a 4th-and-2 from the Bulldog 36. The Bulldogs were out of timeouts, too. All BC has to do is come to the line of scrimmage and PUNT. So what happens? BC comes up to the line, lined up like they were going to go for it.
I look at dad and say "They're not going for it are they? Even if the punt goes into the endzone, the Bulldogs get the ball on the 20 and have to go most of the length of the field to score, without timeouts." Dad agreeed. BC calls timeout. I then say to dad, "Okay, so they're going to come up and let the play clock wind down. With about three ticks on the clock, they'll try a hard count to draw the defense offsides. If it doesn't work, they drop back five yards which only gives the punter more room to work." Perfect simple strategy. Any coach should know it.
Does BC take the advice?
Oh hell no.
Fourth and two to go, they come out of the time out. They rush up to the line of scrimmage, snap the ball to the QB. He hands off to Phillip who is stacked up at the line for no gain. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? Everyone in the damn stadium, the trainers, the freaking cheerleaders, even the 13-year old teeny boppers knew that it would be a freaking run. McPherson stacked everyone up to stop the run. It worked. I'm not exactly sure how BC's head coach thought that they're offensive scheme would work, because you can not block 10 guys with 5 guys. It's simple math.
The outcome was predictable for Mac. Pass over the middle, first down, move the sticks, stop the clock. Sideline pass, move the sticks. Incomplete pass. Mac marches it down the field in about 5 plays and scores with 34 seconds left.
Final score McPherson 27, Bethel 24.
Seething
No one cares about the OU-UCLA game. The Huskers were supposed to be on this afternoon on ABC Regional coverage. I was all excited to watch because I get to hang out with mybrotherfromanothermother and watch the ball game.
Guess what?
Freaking ABC isn't putting our affliate in the coverage area. First of all, I would rather shave my tongue than watch OU and UCLA. In case, ABC forgot, OU has LOST already. Dumbasses. At least the Huskers are 2-0. Dammit, this isn't the way to start a Saturday.
Debating the situation
I sit here this morning wondering about my move for the day.
The evening plans have been laid, including a high school football game on the road. Tomorrow is fairly mapped out as well. Now I am wrestling with a dilemma of rather large proportions.
Should I stay or should I go?
By stay, I mean in town, take an extra day of "weekendness" and play golf, something I didn't get to do yesterday. If I go, we're reviewing for our Spanish test on Monday, except that I know exactly what I need to work on.
The golf doesn't cost me anything.
The trip to school would cost me gas.
Tim says I should go golfing.
I would feel guilty about missing class (well for a few minutes anyways.)
The golf really doesn't cost me anything.
I could take a cart.
It's one of those days when sometimes you say screw it and go play golf.
My tally of losses.
Since it seems that I have lost numerous battles with things, I decided to tally them up.
Losses include
-stairs x 134781276123984
-first base
-second base
-third base
- home
-the fence along left field
-the sidewalk out infront of my house
-my room door
-the ironing board
-telephone guy wires
-clotheslines
-a merry-go-round
-the drawer on my desk
-the street via many many bike wrecks
-three different barbed wire fences
-animal holes while hunting
-a rose bush
-rocks at Table Rock Lake, (i've got a good scar from that one)
-a tractor tire lug nut
- kitchen knife
-a softball
-a bike ramp
- sledding ramp made of snow
-boat wake while tubing
-a cd player remote control
-fishhooks
-catfish, (i've been spiked so many times)
-white bass (they've spiked me while flopping around in the back of the boat)
-a walleye ( i was a dumbass and didn't even think about it's teeth when I went to clean it)
-a pickup truck
-inline hockey
-a door shutting on my little finger
-two car accidents
-one very violent pillow fight where a shoe was desposited in the pillow
-many more bike wrecks
-the monkey bars
-Chet
-Tim
-a racquetball x 10
-a racquetball racket
-cardboard tubing from wrapping paper (i was ambushed by my "friends")
-a cardboard table (it was dropped on me from a tree on accident)
-a fire
-even still more bike wrecks
-a bike wreck involving a tree
-swings
-Stuart
-the choir risers in 5th grade
-a not-so-quite-dead-as-I-thought pheasant,(damn claws are sharp)
-ragweed
-a fender on a trailer
-the ground in the outfield
-a golfball while mowing (yes, it hit me)
-my coworkers (they threw me in a creek)
-paintballs
-a snake (it drew blood)
-Bell's Palsy
-baseballs while umping
-an Osage Orange tree while mowing
-wasps
-even still more bike wrecks
-icy roads/sidewalks
-more animal holes while hunting
-a pocketknife while trying to open beef jerky
That's all i can think of right now.
My head is splitting in two.
And it's starting right behind my eyes.
It is thanks to my allergies as the ragweed attack is in full effect. By the end of the football game, I was stuffed up and my head had just started to hurt. Now it feels like someone is driving two nails through my eyes right into my sinuses. With all this wind, it's kicking up dust and pollen.
I'm sure my little trip to the barn didn't help as I had to go feed the two horses. There I almost lost my vision in my right eye as I was walking out to the barn. I was trying to keep the dog from jumping on me in the pitch blackness. Since I couldn't see very well, I turned my hat around just so I could take in more light. I was looking down and BAM!! Rose bush right underneath my eye. I said the only thing I could, "FUCK! That was a rose bush. DAMMIT."
Rose Bush 1, Rusty 0.
Allergies 1972938471, Rusty -6.
Whoa. Who knew the Internet could be right?
Your #1 Match: ENFP
|
The Inspirer
You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends.
You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules.
Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives.
You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller!
You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist. |
Your #2 Match: ENFJ
|
The Giver
You strive to maintain harmony in relationships, and usually succeed.
Articulate and enthusiastic, you are good at making personal connections.
Sometimes you idealize relationships too much - and end up being let down.
You find the most energy and comfort in social situations ... where you shine.
You would make a good writer, human resources director, or psychologist. |
okay. that's pretty much me.
Gunpowder, swallows, and allergies.
Dove hunting, Round Three.
The Fearsome Foursome of Dad, the G-man, Jar and myself went after those little gray bastards this morning. First order of business was dragging my dead ass out of bed since we were meeting at 6:45. Originally, I set my alarm for 6:15 but thanks to quick fingers, I hit the snooze button without fully being aware of my actions. If that excuse would only work in other situations...but I digress.
First order of business was to take allergy medicince because it's my
favorite time of year. I've been chomping that stuff down like candy. Now that it's finally dried out a little, I'd put Sneezy to shame with the amout of sneezes I'm firing off. I hate late summer. I do. If you touch ragweed, it bursts into a yellow cloud.
The reactivity of this cloud on most people is just a fine dusting that people brush off. For me, it's like handing a chunk of Kryptonite to Superman. My eyes water, puff up, my nose runs like a leaky faucet, my lungs seem to fill up with cotton and it seems like I'm breathing through a blanket. Not only am I fighting with ragweed, but it seems that other weeds are shooting pollen off too.
The second order of business was to put on bug spray. Normally, I'm not really bothered by mosquitoes but sweetbabyjesuswithacowlick, it's been flat awful. They were just attacking the PLASTIC bucket I was perched on during the dove hunts. When these little buzzing bastards are attacking plastic, you know you've got a skeeter problem. On Wednesday morning, I'm pretty sure I was bit so many times that I contracted West Nile, along with the lesser known forms, East Nile, South Nile and North Nile. This morning, I nearly took a bug spray bath before we ever hit the fields. It actually worked enough to keep the mosquitos at bay.
Finally we hit the fields out west of town. All four of us spent the morning blasting at air or so it seemed. Except for the first "dove" of the day which turned out to be a barn swallow that was flying awfully dovishly if you ask me. I blasted the crap out of it. When I found it I was more than a little shocked when I realized that it wasn't a dove but an actual songbird. What's more funny about it is the fact that DAD DID THE SAME THING.
The G-man was a complete rookie to the sport. We had shot our final shots and I was speculating if ground to the east would hold as many doves. I said something to the effect of "These western doves are hard to hit. We could probably hit more of the eastern doves." The G-man looked at me and said "Oh is there a difference?" "Absolutley," I said without missing a beat. "Eastern doves are shot out at the east spot. Since were out west of town, all the doves out here are western doves." Jar busted out laughing because I got the G-man to bite so bad.
I ended up shooting 6 this morning.
Anyways, I'm gonna go dig up some more of the 24 hour stuff so I can sleep.
Moring scores
Wow. I suck.
Not having fired a gun in almost 6 months, there was some serious rust on the ol' shooting skills. I couldn't have hit water even if I fell out of a boat. I missed the first 5 doves I fired at.
Frustration set in before I dropped the first one of the day. What was worse was that there were doves all freaking over. I would be looking one way, turn my head and see 6 or 7 that had just flown by.
Finally, I forced myself to stay down while shooting, meaning keeping my head tucked more against the stock of my weapon. When I do that, it's with miraculous results. I ended up shooting 14 doves this morning. However, I only found ten, because I'm semi-retarded and kept shooting them so they fell into the uncut milo which was overgrown with weeds.
So the morning stats:
14 killed. 10 found. 3 that dropped feathers but kept on flying.
More to come.
