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dave
Age. 34
Gender. Male
Ethnicity. Chinese
Location Valley Village, CA
School. Cornell Univ
» More info.
I'm no diva
Sunday. 12.21.03 5:44 pm
Yes, you guessed it. The note, a death threat that read, "I will dismember you," was from Megatron. Upon reading this, I was filled with a disquietude that forced blood to secrete from my toenails. It was a challenge.


On the eve of the 18th, I decided to infiltrate the Decepticons headquarters, located at


To this, I dissembled myself as a 5-pod hairy protista. In my miniature state, I was able to pass through all the lasers undetected. The parlour room, however, unbeknownst to me, had just been coated with glycerine for a game of STFU (Slide Tackle Fight of Urchins). When I entered, I quickly slipped and banged my head against the titanium floor tiling. In this fumble, I returned to my original shape.

The next thing I knew, I had been tied down. A bright light blinded me. And in the background, I heard evil, robotic laughter. And then it happened...

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the awakening
Monday. 12.15.03 6:46 pm
The purple fumes, the honk. My coma. You probably these events to be unrelated and seemingly random? Me too. And boy was I wrong!

Its been weeks since my coma. I've replayed the events in my mind innumerable times. I remember each detail. Something seemed odd about the whole ordeal. Finally this morning, while I was surrounded by a pack of albino pygmies, I figured it out.

The honk sound was created by the purple fumes as they passed through my hair, which I determined by process of elimination. This honk, of no ordinary origin, also had an considerable, extraordinary effect. The frequency of its sound was exactly four harmonics above the frequency of my brain waves during that time of day. Thus, such a disruption caused my nerves to suddenly deactivate, incapacitating my body, and forcing me into a coma.

Now, remember I had been in a coma for several days. Any fume, purple or not, cannot possibly linger for such a long duration. Unless, of course... immediately after I lasped into the coma, my body was transported into a lab of some sort, where an persistent coma-wave was applied to my body. Now, you must be thinking... Ok, that makes sense, but how can a gimp-tortoise do all this? And just because of the snapple bottle?

I wondered the same thing. It just didn't make sense. Foremost, for the tortoise to pull off such a crime, it must have been prepared. It must have practiced this many times in order to have had executed it flawlessly. Why would it prepare such an event? Finally, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't possible. The gimp didn't do it. It was a decoy.

So who was it? My doubts had already wandered to a likely target... an old, formidable nemesis. I prayed it wasn't so.

This morning, though, my doubts were confirmed. I heard a knock on my door. No one was at the door, but someone had a left a letter. Gingerly, I opened this letter. And then it happened...

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penguins are iguanas
Monday. 12.8.03 12:43 pm
Miserable Failure just helping out the cause.

I was in a coma these past couple days, or so I've been told. This story is an odd one. It all started late Friday evening. There was a blizzard in the east coast, and I was caught in the heart of it, driving from Connecticut to New Jersey.

The traffic was slow as hell. I even saw a gimp-tortoise surpass me. That really pissed me off. I got outta my car, picked up an empty Snapple bottle, and hurled it at the mammal. To my misfortune, this gimp-tortoise (GT) was an Islandic God. The GT released an occult, purple fume from its shell that surrounded me. I fanned/waved my hand, blew with all my might, but the fume only became thicker and thicker.

Finally, all I could see was purple. Suddenly, I heard a loud honk! And then it happened...

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real brewed
Wednesday. 12.3.03 6:08 pm
G0ddamn. My left hand is so cold. I hope I don't have some cold-hand disease.

Anyway, I quit my job. Most of you might think its cause the crime the other day (see previous entry) scared me. Well, you'd be wrong. Rather, from the way I handled that situation, I think I should become a crime fighter instead.

So, last night... I headed off to the police station, to see if they had any openings. Unfortunately, a cop there recognized me (remember when...) as a troublemaker and sicced the police canines on me. Let me tell you, those little devils are ferocious.
In fact, I'm in the hospital computer lab now. Just got out. All of my limbs had been chewed off completely.

No despair, though. I'll find some other way to fight crime.

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woe is mi
Tuesday. 11.25.03 1:15 pm
Yesterday night was unbelievably traumatizing. It still kinda creeps me out thinking about it, which makes it seem very odd that I will recount the entire experience here. Well, here it goes, be forewarned.

My manager convinced me to pick up the last shift, telling me I'd get overtime pay. Ha! Turns out that bastard was joking. Anyway, it was around 2 pm, and some guy comes in. He shouts at me: "Give me all the money in the registers!"

I was tired and bored, and confused him to be joking. "Would you like fries with that?" I sheepishly replied.

"What? A wise guy, huh? you skinny little bitch!" He then took out his glock and shot me two times in the arm.

Goddamn, that pain was immense.

Instinctively, I reach below the counter to find that "red button." To my dismay, all I found was a butcher's knife. I pulled that baby out, and with one swift motion, cut off this hoodlum's arm. He then started screaming SOOOOOOO LOUD!! Seriously, it was really annoying. I mean, seriously, if you scream, I get the point that it hurts. Screaming any louder won't make a difference.

He blasted two more shots at me, one striking my face and ripping my left cheek right off. Falling down, I threw the knife at his shooting arm. Damn, it was a nice throw; cut that trigger-happy hand right off.

The paramedics took a while to come. They assessed my wounds and patched everything up in a few minutes. How? you wonder. Well, luckily (*har har*), my skin is made of Play-Doh. This is a very rare condition. However, the paramedics were knowledgable and very prepared, so they had a lot of Play-Doh in their bags.

Anyway, the other guy died from blood loss. I guess the moral of this story is McDonald's doesn't put a smile on everyone's face. And oh yea, my manager was nice enough to take 20% off the Big Mac's for the paramedics.

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I'm the million d0llar man
Wednesday. 11.19.03 11:11 am
It's been a good two months already, since I started my co-op internship. I've spent countless hours submerged in boredom, and now I'm loaded! Yes, I'm bathing in complete luxury.

In fact, for my lavish dinners, I've moved from the dollar menu to the extra value meals!!! Ok, ok... seriously, I'm only living this extravagantly cause of the generous 5% McDonald's employee discounts.

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