Sunday, February 24, 2008

msisley.com is down for a while

I'm trying my best to get it back up as quickly as possible. Don't lose hope, folks! It'll be back up shortly. I hope.

If you'd like a technical explanation, the server that I was hosting my site on got taken down. I'm in the process of recovering my database so that I don't lose all of my old posts. When it's back up, I'll post here and let you know :-)

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Moved the blog yet again...

After hours upon hours of configuring crap, I've got a new blog up at my own website.

msisley.com

Have fun with that. It's still crappy, cause I'm configuring it. The pirate is staying though. That's all I have to say about that.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

An old story

I am so lazy with this (OWW!) blog. In case you're wondering, the OWW! was in reference to a blood sugar test I just had done, and my finger hurts whenever I type the letters ,, o, or q (left ring finger in dvorak).

But yeah...lazy I am. So I decided that I should post some content from a story I wrote in 7th grade. You can't call me lazy, because I have to retype the entire thing, and with a decrepit finger at that. The first thing I notice is how nice my handwriting was back then. What happened? I must have been trying to write nice, because this is not like me at all...At any rate, here goes. Try not to laugh too hard at my lack of prose. Because there is a lot of prose in part three. I'm retyping this with spelling errors and all, so if there is a person named "Jenifer" in my audience, I beg your forgiveness.

Mike Lizzard sat, reflecting upon his day. Mike was 32 months old, easily thought of as 25 months. At 6 inches long, he couldn't have been in better shape. Jenifer, his Lizardress, called him in for his nightly flies.

"Mmm, Mmm, Bar-b-qed flies! My favorite!" Jenifer was the fairest lizard in Oak meadows. At only 29 months old, Jenifer was the only lizard that could make a fly stand still in her wake. As Mike sat down to his insect, he heard Jim Kitt outside making all kinds of noise. Must be a mouse.

"Detective Lizzard...," Kitt burst in while trying to catch his breath. "Mr. Bunrab - has been chewed - to pieces..."

When Mike arrived at the Bunny Hills Apartment Complex (Hole # 12) he realized how gruesome this was. Bones were strewn everywhere, not to forget all the carrots. This was obviously a well planned Eat-and-Run.

"Golly," remarked Lizzard to Jim Kitt. "This is very gruesome! Apparently after Shneider Bunrab was eaten this sicko began eating Bunrab's carrots! Apparently the murderer was very calm, or he would have taken off immediately. This leads me to suspect the killer is still in Oak Field."

As the detective spoke, Honey Bearr appeared. Honey, the mayor of Oak Field, spoke out, "Detective Lizzard, I want the killer caught immediately! Mr. Bunrab was a very nice man and a leader of our socioty. If more were like him maybe animal cruelty would decrease and we could worry about the real problem, Them pesky humans!"

"We're doing our best Ms. Bearr...Mr. Kitt, would you mind coming with me?"

"Jim, sit down," Mike said offering Kitt his best litter box.

"Thanks," Kitt mumbled.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, Jim," the detective spoke, laying down in his lizard lagoon. "First off, is there anyone you know of that had a grudge against Bunrab?"

"Oh, Purr, ahm maybe Jake Tweet-Tweet. Shneider had been eying one of his eggs Thursday."

"Ok. Now, just when did you discover Mr. Bunrab was dead?"

"Mr. Bunrab had a meeting with me to discuss plans for his new carrotpatch. I was to plow the land for him and manage his garden 2 times a week."

"And how was he to pay you?"

"With some expensive cat food and 1 pound of dog buiscuts for my friend, Brandon Dogg."

"That will be all Jim. Thank you for your time."

"Um, Mike," Kitt stuttered.

"Yes?"

"Could you direct me to your, um, facilities?"

"You're sitting on them..."

"Mike, Mike, I'm innocent! Mice, Mice, they're all I ever eat! Mike, Mike, I may not have much sense, but I'd never perform this feat!" Jake exclaimed in his singsong voice.

"Mr. Tweet-Tweet, you are very capable of eating any rabbit alive. You are the main suspect I have as any hawk would love to get a nice tender rabbit."

"But why, why would I of all hawks in Oak Field be the one accused?!? All I was doing yesterday was taking a snooze!"

"A client told me yesterday he was eying one of you're eggs."

"An egg, an egg, have you no sense? Why would Bunrab think about cracking my egg on a fense? The thought, the thought, never crossed my mind. Why I'd never, ever, put Bunrab under my claws of grind!"

"Good lord, good lord, you're making me mad! If you'd cut out the poem I'd be very glad! Now one more question: why did you commit the crime?"

"I didn't, I didn't! Please stop the horrible hound that commited this crime!"



It struck Detective Lizzard as hard as stone.

"Exactly! That will be all for today, Mr. Tweet-Tweet!"

"What did I say? Was it a rhyme? Is he going to pay? The one that commited the crime?"

"I can't say anything Jake. You'll find out soon enough."

"But, but..."

It took Mike 15 minutes to get to Kitt's house of yarn.

"KITT?! KITT!! COME HERE IMMEDIATELY!"

"Yessir?!?"

"Where is your friend? The one you spoke of in the inteview?"

"Dogg? He's inside chewing his extra crispy bone!"

"Thanks," Mike exclaimed. "Brandon? Is that you Brandon Dogg?"

"It is I, Lizzard. What brings you here?"

"Finish your bone. It's the last you'll get in a while."

"Excuse me?" Brandon questioned.

"Brandon, I demand in the name of Oak Field's law that you come with me. You have been caught by me, Mike Lizzard, head chief of the Lizard Patrol. You murdered Mr. Bunrab...do you remember the occasion? I assume it was because you thought Shneider didn't have your dog biscuits Kitt had earned."

"You're good! However, I don't think you'll be locking me in you're Lizard Lagoon today!"

As Brandon began to run, he stumbled upon something. It was a, a...A RAT?!? Lizard looked up just in time to see Jake Tweet-tweet come flying down, slamming into Brandon's front-right leg. Crack!!! Blood was gushing out of Dogg's leg...O positive...Lizzard told Mr. Tweet-tweet to fly into town and get the strongest animals. When Jake returned he had 2 dogs, Honey Bearr, and 20 fleas (You can never be too carefull). Honey lifted Brandon up and help him so that the 2 dogs could hoist Dogg on their backs.

"Dogg, if you try anything I'll kill you just as you killed Shneider Bunrab!" exclaimed Honey.

Dogg groaned, and said something about his animal rights. 20 minutes later Dogg was sitting in his cell in the Oak Field Prison.

"How in the world did you know who committed the crime?" asked Mike.

"I didn't I didn't I tell you the truth. Obviously, obviously, you're a great sleut--"

"Don't even start..." Mike interrupted.

The End!


Hooray! That's a classic. If you saw "you're"s in place of "your"s, it's because it was in the original manuscript. I know what you're thinking. "Mark is a complete moron with no concept of grammar. And he's terrible at finding good friends that aren't overly critical of every work he's ever done!"

I respond to the former: "Go eat pickled pigs' feet, you jrekface! I was in seventh grade!"

And to the latter: "Agreed."

Sunday, November 26, 2006

In a Car

Vroom, vroom goes the car. It passes a grey minivan gas guzzler. It goes and it goes and it never stops because it is on the interstate on the way to Gainesville. It will be about an hour and a half more before it stops.

In case you're wondering, I'm currently in a car. Actually, I'm probably not currently in the car as you read this, because I'm probably back in Gainesville. But I might be in a car. I cannot be sure. Actually, I can be sure at any given point if I am in a car. But I cannot be sure that at the time that you read this that I am in a car. Actually, I can. But I can't right now. So, yeah. That's that.

Anyway, I'm returning to Gainesville after a very successful Thanksgiving. I ate food this Thanksgiving. I got to eat more food the day after the day after Thanksgiving. It was yummy.

Whoa. We almost just hit another car. I guess I should stop typing and pay attention to the road.

Ha. Just kidding. I bet you thought that I was driving the car and typing at the same time. But I wasn't. So there. Hahah. That was funny. I'm enjoying the last laugh. And also the first laugh. Nobody else is laughing.

At any rate, I know that I always complain about having no material, but I really have no material right now, because life has been rather boring for the past while. I need something interesting to write about again. Some people manage to always write really interesting stuffs about their lives, but mine is simply drab and wretched in comparison to theirs.

I saw the newest James Bond movie last night. It wasn't bad. Only thing with JB movies is that you have to take them completely literally. You can't have any doubt in your mind that what is occuring really could happen in real life. For instance, picture this: a man is on top of a structure that you only really see in movies and he's really high up and he's jumping from crane to crane and he's fighting this other d00d that is pretty much pwning him, but he chases him anyway and catches him after jumping from basically 5,000,000,000,000,000,00,0,0 feet in the air. That's not really that great a description. This is going to be a very boring blog entry. But anyway, this is something that happened in the movie last night. I wish I could be describing one of the other James Bond movies like the one where he fights a shark. That would be a lot better to prove my point with.

Anyhoo, though. We are currently passing a car that is very similar to the one we are driving. I was going to say something, but I have forgotten what it was. Oh yes, now I remember: If you guys really want some new, good material, you're going to have to do some more stupid stuff around me and sign a release form so that I can mock you in my writing. I really am drawing straws here, so maybe I'll just make up some random gossip about the various people that might at some point read my blog.

Karys recently ate a cockroach in front of 3,000,000 Australians on live Australian TV.

Jennifer confided in me last night that she was in love with an Albanian Cricket.

Emily picked up Kermit the Frog last night and made out with him.

Taylor routinely picks his cat's nose and eats what he finds.

That is all I can come up with. I'm anxious to see how you all disprove these facts, if you can. But you won't. Because you know they're true.

Monday, November 13, 2006

A lack of material

Wow. I should totally be sleeping right now. Instead I'm sitting up on the computer not accomplishing anything except listening to a really really long techno song. An hour and 40 minutes to be exact. Even sleep would accomplish more than this is accomplishing.

At any rate, I did at some point have material. Several times, in fact, but the memories have faded and these things have been lost. Maybe I'll just write about this techno song. Only because something struck me just as I was searching for material. There is a woman grunting like she is experiencing extreme pleasure. There are only two possibly reasons why this could be:

1) She was having sex with a techno artist when suddenly he pulled his tape recorder out, or
2) She was eating a bon bon.

Gosh those things were good. Why'd the ever have to stop making them? I miss Bon Bons. Especially the Crunch kind. Mmm. Flavor.

Anyway, the lady stopped grunting for a few minutes before eating several more bon bons. She, again, was unable to contain herself.

Now there's a little cowbell effect going on: A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! A coock-coock! ...

And so on, et cetera, ellipsis...

Here comes some climactic sounding music from an organ: doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO doooo-DOOOOO-DOOOOOOOO-DOOOOOOO.

And so on, et cetera, ellipsis...

Now some weird X-Files sounding music that fades quickly, along with the DOOOOOOs.

Oop...There it is again.

My suite-mate (not to be confused with roommate) is apologizing for some noise.

X-Files X-Files X-FiIiiIiiIiiles X-Files X-Files X-FiIiiIiiIiiles X-Files X-Files X-FiIiiIiiIiiles X-Files X-Files X-FiIiiIiiIiiles X-Files X-Files X-FiIiiIiiIiiles SOOOOLLOOOOOOOOOO

I'm slightly reminded of the time that Strongbad showed the anatomy of a techno song. It was pretty good. I was entertained, to say the least, and the techno song he produced wasn't too bad.

While I'm waiting for some new techno material, I suppose I could ramble a little bit. I got a hair cut this weekend. It was definitely in need. It has been about three or four months since I've had one, and I totally wasn't getting the mack on. Hopefully I'll have some better luck now since I'm aerodynamically attractive. Or something. Please don't tell anyone I said that.

Uh oh. I hear a music change coming on.

I was right.

Now it's time for some echoing resonating something indescribable sound.

Oh. And there's the sound of the roommate going to bed.

Yay! Sleep!

Sunday, September 17, 2006

The Support Group is Ripening, My Friends...

As I was studying Chemistry this morning (Acid/Base reactions: <Insert pun here>), a possible new support group member thrust their all too terrible story upon me. As has previously been established, the evil ploy of bananas and, to some extent, oranges is currently being realized. The Fruit Army is attacking us, picking us off one by one. It won't be long till more people start joining our ranks, having realized that they face an enemy that was until recently completely unsuspect. Yet, it is inevitable, my friends. I have preached it since day one. The Fruit Army is a jihadist group that cannot be messed with. They are serious. They mean business.

With that, I submit to you the story of yet another member of our support group. We need to have a sense of identity. If you have any ideas for a name, submit them, along with your application, if you wish. We must work together to stop this plague upon the earth. This member maintains a blog of her own, which this story has been published upon for more exposure to the masses: Clicky click. With any luck, CNN will have our story on the air within the decade. And, if not then, certainly within the century.

And so, without further adieu, I present thee her story:

A short while ago, I was attacked by organisms so crafty you would never suspect them of their cruel capabilities. What could these ghastly creatures be, you ask? Well, they are members of the most organized group of fruits on the planet. Don't believe me? Realize, then, that this was just one in a string of ambushes by these evil beings--here's a link to more of the assaults (and some other unrelated but entertaining stuffs by a friend of mine): http://msisley.blogspot.com/
But now on to my story...
It was the beginning of the school day. I came out of a classroom where I just dropped my load of books off. I’m minding my own business and walking along—dodging the preppy chicks standing smack in the middle of the hall in their skimpy clothes that they never get called on for dress code; holding my breath against the odor escaping the restroom; and avoiding that one scary teacher from the math department who looks like his or her gender could go either way. It is quite fortunate that I have a tendency to check the floor often to make sure there are no cracks in it. I looked down for a second, no cracks there, good, I shan’t trip today. But then—what’s this? A foreign object in my path?!
Closer inspection revealed…a banana peeling. Three inches from my shoe lay that object, potentially deadly to one’s reputation when placed in a busy hallway full of impressionable students. Especially to a girl wearing a skirt…Anyway, I glanced behind me at a sound of laughter. There stood the banana’s minion—clever of it to get a typical idiot to plant some item of destruction. Feeling quite pleased with myself for having avoided certain disaster, I stepped over the peeling and went to class. Little did I know that the fruits would strike again later that day…this time, with more success.
The second assault came in the cafeteria: an ironic place for a fruit plot, considering the portrait of the radioactive broccoli being struck by a massive fork that was painted in a massive mural along the wall.
The healthy food of the day in the “food” line was a nice bowl of sliced oranges. I went through the line, grabbed some of the usual mystery substance that was the main dish, and on last thought placed a bowl of oranges on my tray. I could use the vitamin C…some bug was going around. I went to my seat, as on any normal day, and ate my “food” with the relish of a cow forced to eat a hamburger. The oranges, started on last, weren’t finished by me—I gave them to some random kid sitting across from me in exchange for his pledge to never ask me for food again. I took up my garbage, and sat back down, awaiting release from that house of ill refuse. (And no, I don’t mean repute. I mean refuse—when was the trash last taken out of that place?!) The dean of students’ voice came over the speakers in a garbled tone, but putting voice and time together, we assumed that was the typical signal to scramble out through too few doors, push and shove each other out of the way, and dash to class. It was that moment that the oranges chose to exact their revenge for having been so unceremoniously sliced, diced, and ingested.
As usual, I looked down to make sure I wouldn’t step in any of the day’s food fight ammunition. In front of me was a pair of orange peelings, floating in a large puddle of juice. I deftly turned to the left, thinking I had escaped once more, only to come face to face with…a rather large pole, running from ceiling to floor, that I swear to this day they’d just put in over the previous night. I teetered, and nearly fell on this unsuspecting freshman, who pointed at me, laughed, and shared his glee with the other morons around him. So much for being on top getting you respect. One pair of orange peels, strategically placing themselves next to a pole, ruined that. Beware the fruits!

Sunday, September 03, 2006

New Support Group Member

New Support Group Member Taylor writes:

"Just today I was eating an apple and I bit into it and there was a large hole in the inside with tons of brown stuff and stuff. I puked for fifteen days after that."

We feel for you, Taylor. Stay strong.